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Meyers knew that their little meeting was taking far too long. He had been ignoring his gut feelings to race in the room and see what was going on. Sands had promised him, that if he needed help he'd send him a sign.

After he had heard the first gun shot, he was pretty sure that Sands was dead. Then he heard his friend talking, his voice was calm. In other words, Sands had the situation under control for now.

He couldn't stand it. Sheldon might be perfectly fine with the scenario but Meyers wasn't. In fact, the more he thought about it the less he liked Sands' brilliant idea. He walked over to the door and cracked it open. The door opened soundlessly so he watched. He saw Ethan Schmidt's body on the floor and hoped that Sands hadn't done that, or had anything to do with it. As it was Collins was standing less than a foot away from Sands with a gun aimed at the former agents head. Meyers was just about to go in when there was a second shot. Meyers watched in shock as Collins fell to the floor.

Meyers must have made some noise because in a matter of seconds, Sands jacket was open and there was his right arm with a gun in his hand. The gun was aimed right at him. "Jack Meyers. Don't shoot."

Sands put his gun back in the holster as Meyers walked into the room and shut the door. Meyers knew the hows of Collins getting shot. His assumptions were confirmed when there was the sound of air and the prosthetic arm dislodged. This was the same one that he swore he left in Mexico.
Meyers snickered. "I thought you left that in Mexico."

Sands stood up and straightened his glasses. He shrugged and smiled. "That's what I wanted them to think. The fact was I didn't leave it behind and I didn't want to give it back. It had saved my ass too many times, I knew that I'd need it."

As he spoke he slipped his jacket off his shoulder and reattached the fake arm. Meyers watched in awe. He was glad that Sands couldn't see that he was smiling. Even blind he managed to make it out of a tight spot. He had been out-numbered and he still kicked ass. He was amazing.
The more Meyers analyzed the situation, more specifically, the more he analyzed Sands, the more he realized he was falling in love with him. That thought saddened him because he knew that Sands would never feel the same way about him. He decided to make himself useful. He began going through Schmidt's desk. Before Meyers even heard anything Sands was 'looking' towards the door. Sands relaxed when he smelled Bradney's familiar cologne.

"Sands."

"Bradney."

Bradney walked completely into the room. He noticed the slight blush that Meyers had. At that moment he was glad that he wasn't psychic. He had the feeling that he didn't want to know what the man was thinking. He turned to Sands. "Sheldon, while you were in here, having your little meeting I was with the big bosses. They found all of your Intelligence reports, the missing phone records and the original report about what happened in Mexico."

"Is that all?" His voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"No. Apparently. . ."

Sheldon shook his head. "I may be blind but I'm not stupid. I knew right from the beginning that there was going to be some sort of set up in Mexico. I figured that was why they wanted me to go so badly. I just thought that I'd have enough time to expose Barillo and his little plan, and get enough information on the corruption that was going on inside the CIA and get the hell out of Mexico. But the fuck up happened and well, we all know the result of that." He tapped the side of his sunglasses.

Bradney shook his head. "That's not what I mean. According to all the documents that I've read you were never supposed to leave Mexico."

Sheldon raised an eyebrow. "How were they going to do it?"

Meyers was the next to speak. "That man that you shot before you made it to the center of the city, he was working for the CIA, Agent Spardler. His job was to make sure if you did make it out of the coup alive, that you died in Mexico."

Sheldon spun around so that he was facing Meyers' general direction. "Were you in on this too?" Now, more than ever he was reminded that he was blind. He was used to being able to tell if someone was lying by their body language or the look in their eyes. Now, he was reduced to the way that the person's voice sounded. He hated that. Right at this moment he couldn't tell if Meyers was lying. It didn't help that his once finely tuned inner voice was full of shit.
His sight had been his ass-saver. Many times when he was about to be bull-shitted to (and the consequences of that would usually have resulted in his death) his eyes had told him the truth.
With his sight gone and no hope of ever getting it back, the entire world was against him. That also meant that everyone was out to get him.

Meyers had backed up as if Sands had hit him. He knew that Sands was only protecting himself, but it was painful. After all, they had known each other since their training days. Now here he was saying that he didn't trust him. "Jeff, I was never in on their plot to kill you. I only recently found out. All of that shit was on the disc that you wanted me to read."

Sands cocked his head and smiled. Meyers couldn't exactly pin what it was, but that smile was precisely why Sands was known was psychotic. "Of course it was." Meyers wasn't exactly sure what Sands was thinking but he was pretty sure that it terrified him.

Sands turned around so that he was facing Bradney. He took a few steps in the man's direction. He was standing so close that they were practically nose-to-nose. He turned back to face Meyers, "catch." He threw his unfolded stick at him. He didn't do anything further until he heard Meyers catch it. He turned his attention back to Bradney; he grabbed the man by his shoulders, brought his face forward and inhaled.

As Meyers watched, he thought that Sands had finally flipped his last card. He was certain that Sands was smelling Bradney. "Sands, what are you-"

Sands stepped back, looking like he was staring at Bradney. There were dozens of sensations running through his mind at once, none of them good.

The sound of Barillo's laughter, the whirling of the drill, the pain in bright white. The pain that he felt in his apartment. The shame and humiliation of being violated in his own home, once again the pain was bright white. The real kick in the teeth had been that cologne. He had smelled the same cologne when he had had his eyes drilled out, it was the same cologne that had led him out of the Cartel's building. "It was you. You son of a bitch." He pulled a gun out of his belt and placed it against Bradney's forehead.

Meyers felt like he had been pulled out of reality and zapped into the twilight zone. "Sands?"

"This fuckmook had been there. He had been there in Mexico. He watched as I had my eyes drilled out, he was one of the men that made sure that I made it out of the Cartel's grimy hands safely. That 'incident' that happened at my apartment, he was there. He was the one that ra-" He swallowed hard. He was losing his grip and he knew it. He had to regain control. "He raped me. I want to put a bullet into his head."

Meyers looked at Bradney in disbelief. Bradney figured that maybe he could deny the whole thing. However, when there's a gun being held to your head by someone unstable, you feel compelled to tell the truth. Before Bradney could say anything Meyers remembered a conversation that he had with Richard Mullens, his supervisor about a month before Sands had been sent to Mexico. There was a mole within The Company. Suddenly all the pieces seemed to fit.

"Shel, he's the mole."

"Huh?"

"About 2 years ago it was discovered that The Company had a mole among its ranks. They had found out that the mole had been alerting the Cartel in Mexico as to our inside operations against them."

Sands jaw dropped. " They thought that I was the mole."

Meyers nodded. "Whoever the mole was," he glared at Bradney, "he was very good at covering his tracks. He changed or in some cases, deleted some critical information in your reports. From what I could dig up, he had been doing this, unobserved since the early nineties."

A light seemed to click, Sands made a sudden connection. " Shit. The Company was the one that tipped off the Cartel as to where they could find me. Fuck me hard and fast, that's why they removed my eyes."

Meyers nodded again. "From the Psychiatric evaluations you had done, it was one of your greatest fears. They used what you had admitted to the Psychiatrist against you."

Sands cocked his gun. "So, the big fuckmooks were hoping that I'd either die or become so hopelessly depressed that I’d become one of the many casualties of Mexico. Apparently they don't know me very well."

Bradney knew that if he wanted to get out of current situation he'd have to do some fast-talking or else he'd become a casualty of Sands. "What will you do? Kill me? Then what? Go back to the CIA? You're useless to them now. You've been with them since you were in your mid teens, you have no life outside of that. If you kill me, you'll be up on murder charges. Blind people don't do well in prison."

Sands laughed. He had aced his classes in Interrogation techniques, he knew this quite well. It was where you said all the things that you figured your subject was afraid to hear. The only thing was Bradney didn't know shit. "You're grasping at straws. I have 2 dead bodies in the room. What's one more?"

Meyers had moved so that he was standing behind Sands. He figured that if Sands was going to shoot Bradney at point blank range, the bullet would go right through and he didn't want to risk getting hit.

Sands pulled the trigger.