Disclaimer: I don't own Sands.
Author's Note: Hey everyone! Hope you enjoy my new story!
Trevor Hartford woke to the sound of his cellphone cutting through the night air. He turned to the nightstand and picked it up, looking at the number. He felt the body beside him turn as she woke up too.
"Is it your wife?"
Trevor looked back at her tiredly. "Are you kidding? She doesn't even know about this cellphone, let alone the number."
But Trevor didn't recognise the number himself and on this phone, his phone for work, that was unusual.
He picked it up. "Trevor Hartford."
"Agent Trevor Hartford, I assume? Agent Hartford, you are a very hard man to find but I suppose in your line of work, that is a compliment."
Trevor frowned. "Who is this?"
"My name is Jorge Ramirez. I am calling you about an agent you have stationed in my country."
Damn it, Sands. What'd you do now?
"Mr. Ramirez, I don't know how you got this number but-"
"I am with the FBI, Agent Hartford and I am calling you because of Agent Sands."
"Look, I know..." Hartford stopped, remembering the woman in the bed next to him thought he worked in advertising. "I know your company and mine are rivals but surely you understand that when our company is on a...project, we try not to step on your company's toes. Sands might not adhere to that rule at all times-"
"No, he definitely does not."
"But I assure you, tracking me down to complain personally-"
"I am not calling you to complain, Agent Hartford. I am calling you to let you know that Agent Sands could probably use your help right now."
Hartford was getting more confused. "Ag- Sands should now be aware that his project has been terminated and see to it that-"
"That's the problem. Agent Sands will not be seeing to anything any time soon."
Hartford frowned. "What?"
"Leave him there."
Everyone in the office looked at Armisen who had just spoken.
Armisen noticed and huffed. "You were all thinking it; I just had the balls to say it."
"He's one of our agents. And one of the best we have." Hartford said. "I didn't know we were in the habit of just leaving them stranded in different countries when they get into trouble."
"Sands has been a liability for quite some time. That's why we sent him to Mexico. He got himself into trouble down there, it's his problem."
Hartford looked around at the other men in the room. "You all agree?"
The men looked from Hartford to Armisen before the boss, Crowley, stood up. "Look, you're his boss Trevor. We'll let you decide what to do about him. But you're his boss, he's your problem. You bring him back here; you have to deal with him."
The rest of the men got up to leave Hartford's office.
"Fine." Hartford said. "But I'm taking Macintosh to get him."
Armisen turned back. "Oh no, you're not. Macintosh isn't going anywhere."
"I'm going to need a doctor."
"Not the best one! Not for Sands!"
Hartford stood from his desk. "I have just been informed that Sands is my responsibility. Well, I'm being responsible and dealing with it. To do that, I'm taking Macintosh and that's that."
Crowley put a hand to silent the men. "Is Macintosh on any other cases?"
"Not at the moment." Hartford answered.
"Then do what you want." Crowley said to Hartford.
Hartford smirked at Armisen before turning back to Crowley. "Thank you, sir."
"But if Sands does one thing, moves one finger out of place..."
"I'll see to it that Agent Sands is a consummate professional."
"I need drugs..."
Sands heard the groan before realising it had come from his own lips.
Wait, what? Why am I not...dead?
He heard a chuckle. "Actually, that is the drugs. Senõr Sands? Senõr Sands, it is time to wake up."
Sands tried to open his eyes before remembering.
They took my eyes.
Whoa, I'm going to be like Belini...except double...and not dead...
Sands brought his hand up to feel his face but his arm felt very heavy.
"Oh, Senõr Sands, you are awake."
Sands didn't recognise the voice with its Mexican accent. "Where am I?"
"You are in the hospital, Senõr. You have been for three days. I am Doctor Ortiz. I have been looking after you."
"Three days? How did I get to a hospital?"
"Agent Jorge Ramirez. He called an ambulance and you were found slumped the street."
"Agent Ramirez called you?"
"He has also been calling to check in."
"It seems he is waiting for your boss."
Sands froze. "My boss? I don't have a boss."
"On the contrary, Senõr Sands. It seems that Agent Ramirez got in touch with an Agent Hartford who is flying down with a doctor who can better deal your...condition. A Doctor Charles Macintosh."
Sands didn't feel too good and it didn't have anything to do with the two holes in his head though they definitely didn't help. "Trevor Hartford? He's coming down?"
"Indeed, he is. I have spoken to him myself over the phone. He should be here in a day or two."
Sands gulped. "A day? But I'm staying in Mexico, right? Or am I going back to America?"
Doctor Ortiz frowned. "I do not know. Agent Hartford did not specify. I would assume so. You do not live here, do you? From what I know, I was under the impression you were here for work."
"I am. I mean, I was." Sands didn't particularly relish going back to the States. Although he didn't relish staying in Mexico either. But in Mexico, he didn't have to deal with facing up to all his actions and the consequences. After all, he did have a sweet deal going in Mexico.
Before the, you know, eye extraction...
Sands realised he'd been silent. "I'm not really in the mood for chatting anymore. What say you pump up these lovely drugs a little more and wake me when my boss gets here, savvy?"
"Savvy?" Doctor Ortiz asked, not understanding.
"Great. See ya later. Or hear ya later."
"Agent Ramirez, nice to meet you." Hartford said, shaking hands with the man. "Thank you for calling me."
"It was the least I could do."
"Are you and Agent Sands friends?"
"Not really. I want him out of my country."
Hartford nodded, understanding. "Well, that's the plan. Have you seen him?"
"No, I haven't but I left Agent Sands with someone who I felt would match Sands in maturity and wit."
"Hola, Senõr Sands. Cómo estás?"
"Not good, kid." Sands replied, knowing it was the boy in the yellow t-shirt as it was every day.
"Muy bueno." The boy said, sitting on the chair next to the bed.
"Mhmm." Sands said. No matter how Sands said he was, the fact that he was awake and saying anything at all was always 'muy bueno.'
It had only been a few days and Sands was already sick of lying in this bed. He had successfully made his way around Mexico and killed four people right after he got the eyes pulled from his head and now he wasn't allowed get up without doctor's orders? He was annoyed to say the least. But the doctor was the one prescribing the drugs; at least he would be for another couple of hours. Hartford and the new doctor were coming today. Sands wondered how this was going to go down. Did Hartford know what Sands had tried to do? Well, he was going to find out soon enough.
"Senõr Sands, are you awake?"
"No, go away."
"Senor Sands, Senõr Hartford and Doctor Macintosh are here."
Sands heard footsteps approach his bed and stop.
Hartford frowned down at the kid. "We didn't leave you down here that long, did we?"
"Funny." Sands said. "He's a damn bit more dependable in a crisis than you are."
"How are ya feeling Sands?" Hartford asked.
Sands sounded overly chipper. "Fan-fucking-tastic Trevor, how are you?"
"Agent Sands, there is a child present." Doctor Ortiz chided though Hartford knew better than to try.
"He's cool." Sands said. "And doesn't know a word of English."
"Eso es correcto." The boy said, trying to help Sands, not realising.
"Thanks for trying, kid." Sands said. "Like I said Trev, never felt better."
Hartford chuckled. "It's nice to see that you're still a sarcastic son of a bitch."
"I bet that is nice to see."
"Bad choice of words. Sands, allow me to introduce your doctor..."
"Charles Macintosh." Sands interrupted. "Hey Mac."
"Actually Agent Sands, its Charlie Macintosh." Sands was shocked to hear a feminine voice. "But you can call me Mac if you wish, or even, God forbid, Doctor Macintosh." He could hear the smile in her voice.
Sands was a little surprised at this turn of events and even more shocked when he felt a pair of female hands touch his face. "Do you mind?"
Without waiting for an answer, she began gently taking off the bandages that were on his face, presumably to get better look at his eye cavities.
Doctor Ortiz huffed at the people in the room who obviously cared or knew little about children before calling the boy and taking him out of the room so he wouldn't see anything. No one took any notice.
Sands was frowning. "Wait, you're a woman?"
"So I've been told. I hope that's not a problem."
Sands smirked. "No, no problem. So will you be dealing with all aspects of my recovery?"
He could hear her voice full of concentration as she inspected him. "That's the plan."
"So gunshot wounds and everything?"
"You know, I did get quite nasty shots to my thighs if you want to take a better look."
"Sands, you're confined to a bed for Christ's sake." Hartford interrupted in a warning voice but Sands heard Charlie softly chuckle.
"Perfect place to be then, isn't it?" Sands said.
"You have no eyes. She could be a dog for all you know."
"Thank you, sir." Charlie said, not looking away from the cavities.
"No problem, Macintosh. Sands, I risked my neck just trying to help you and if you-"
"Trevor, get out." Sands said quickly.
"Sheldon, I will not..."
"Actually sir," Charlie interrupted "I would appreciate if you let me speak to Agent Sands in private."
Hartford looked at Charlie for a second before agreeing and leaving the room, closing the door behind him. Sands feared the worst upon hearing she wanted to speak to him in private. If it was good news, she could have said it in front of everyone. He felt her sit on the side of his bed.
"Well Agent Sands, I'll be honest. While I've never encountered something quite like this-"
"What a shock."
"-I think there maybe something we can do for you."
Sands sat up in the bed, disregarding the pain in his gun shot wounds. "You mean I can get my eyes back?"
"Not your eyes, no but an eye transplant is possible. The Argawal Institute in Madras successfully completed one on a Pakistani boy after the eyes were donated. I don't want you to get your hopes up as the process doesn't have a one hundred percent success rate. The surgery is a long, hard one and we need to wait for a donation. Many people don't like donating their eyes after death and we'd have to wait for a match. But I promise you, I will try everything in my power to help you as best I can."
Sands couldn't help but feel a little deflated. "So, what you're saying is that this whole situation is a maybe and even if it does go ahead, I'll be waiting for a good while with empty eye sockets."
"Actually, the reason they brought me to you instead of waiting to bring you to the States was because I can fill your eye sockets in the mean time."
"With what? Cotton Wool?"
"With an ocular prosthesis," She explained. "Also known as an artificial eye. They are what you'd typically call glass eyes."
"Like Sammy Davis Jr.?"
"Exactly. The prosthetic fits over an orbital implant and under the eyelids. The ocular prosthesis roughly takes the shape of a convex shell and is made of medical grade plastic acrylic." Sands heard ruffling and then scribbling, he could only guess that she was writing notes.
"But it won't let me see?"
"I'm afraid not but don't give up hope, while you recover in the rehabilitation training program, I'll stay on my toes for any donations."
Sands was about to tell her that it was great, he supposed, when he realized. "Rehab? I'm going to rehab?"
"It's only to get you used to being...in your situation. It's to help you adjust."
"I've already adjusted. I killed right after I went blind; I'm a very well adjusted human being."
Charlie's head shot up and she was a little taken back to say the least but she had been warned about Sands and she had dealt with this kind of stuff before. She was a doctor for the CIA. "Yeah, killing people always amount up to a happy and well adjusted individual." She was being sarcastic in hopes he wouldn't think he fazed her.
Sands chuckled. "So when am I getting back to the States?"
"Well, it's up to you really. I can do the surgery to put in the ocular prosthesis' here or you can wait till we get back to the States. If I do it here, you'll have to stay longer. If you want to wait, we just have to wait for your stitches to heal."
"I can't get on a plane because of stitches?"
"Better safe than sorry, Agent Sands."
Sands huffed. "Sands." He probably wasn't an agent anymore.
Charlie smiled. "Sands, it is then. Do you want some time to think about your decision?"
"Just do it now. There's no difference between being stuck in a bed in Mexico and being stuck in one back home."
"Are you positive?"
"No, I've changed my mind in the last three seconds."
"Keep being sarcastic Sands and I'll give you purple eyes."
Sands eyebrows shot up. "You can't do that."
"Who's going to stop me?"
Sands considered it for a moment. "I'm beginning to like you."
Charlie laughed and looked up from her notepad. "Good, because we're going to be spending a lot more time together."
Bring it on, sugar.
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