didntseeit: (princesa on the run)
[personal profile] didntseeit
The air is dead when she steps through, dead and filled with sounds and smells of modern battle; smoke, blood, gunpowder, screams, and the dull cracks of bullets. This isn’t Milliways, or Texorami. This isn’t even the Mexico that El had taken her.

This, blood and rubble and all, is her Mexico.

And she’s three steps into it before she realizes where exactly she is. Mexico. Home. Even with the gunfire and the twisting fear that made her run out here, her movements are slow as she starts to turn around. Home, home, smoke and dust and she’s home and-

And she stops

There.

(a crumpled figure along the wall)

No.

(Beatriz Barillo Trejo was always going to be too late.)

No.

(because even if time passes a minute for a month, it’s still passing)

Without thinking she runs forward and falls down on one knee. She takes her father’s hand and presses it against her mouth and she can’t fucking breathe let along think. He’s….he’s…he can’t, not after she betrayed, not after she gave everything up at his word because he’s her father and he can’t be…

Perdón, Papa,” she whispers, taking a ring from his hand (he hadn’t given them all to that double) and sliding it onto her thumb. The gold is still warm, but she’s feeling too dizzy to notice. For a moment she just bows her head and then she lets her father’s hand fall, getting to her feet and feeling ancient. It’s then that she catches sight of Sands.

Sands. Dressed in black and sprawled out against the worn cobbles, moving slightly in agony as the painkillers wear off and he’s there.

stand and shoot


Without thinking, she starts to walk forward and doesn’t stop until she’s squatting next to him, perfectly balanced. She tilts her head and looks at him, and for all the emotion on her beautiful Aztec face, he’s nothing more than a butterfly impaled by a pin. He’s not her boyfriend, ex or otherwise. Not the love of her life or the ruin of it or anything else. Just an exotic insect, wounded and still buzzing.

Without quite meaning to, she picks up his sunglasses and puts them back on. “Fucking little monkey,” she says quietly, and her voice is full of wonder even as she lightly slaps him. Slowly, she brings the gun up and rests the muzzle under his jaw.

sands sands i love you im sorry i hate you fucking bastard you killed him you killed them ruined everything why why couldn’t run don’t you see bound by love and duty never understood did you really expect me to go with you i should have god oh god i should have i should have theyd be alive my fault my fault traitorous bitch

malinchista


Of course she pulls the trigger. What else were you expecting her to do?

Date: 2007-06-01 11:56 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] rigthegames.livejournal.com
The moment he’s through the door, Sands realises his mistake. The smell hits him first, all dust and blood and gunpowder and all too fucking familiar, as his eyes adjust to the sudden burst of Mexican sunlight. For a second he thinks he’s going to throw up, stumbling backwards into the doorway and closing his eyes tightly.

“Shit,” he hisses, glancing back the way he came even though he knows Milliways has already faded. He’s stuck here.

This isn’t where he was, this isn’t where he’s meant to be. This isn’t his Mexico. Or rather, not anymore, it isn’t.

Date: 2007-06-02 12:03 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] didntseeit.livejournal.com
She hears him (she thinks), feels him as a prickling between her shoulder-blades. But she doesn't move, can't move.

His blood is cooling against her skin and her own has turned to ice.

Date: 2007-06-02 12:20 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] rigthegames.livejournal.com
It takes a moment of blind, anywhere-but-here panic for Sands to realise the body in the middle of the courtyard is him. Which means, of course, the girl is her.

(this, he thinks numbly, must be what going mad feels like)

It’s a scene he’s dreamt a million times before. Ajedrez and him. Him and Ajedrez and el Dia de los fucking Muertos. Obviously, he’s never actually seen it before. He was a little, hah, incapacitated last time ‘round.

This time ‘round, he’s fumbling for his gun before he even realises he's begun to run.

Date: 2007-06-02 12:23 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] didntseeit.livejournal.com
His footsteps are loud.

This could be a problem for him as she's standing up and turning around and her gun is still in her hand. In the light, that golden, murky light, his blood on her face and pretty blouse look dark. Almost black, but not quite.

Date: 2007-06-02 12:35 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] rigthegames.livejournal.com
He skids to a halt, only a couple of metres away.

“Look, Beatriz,” he says, gun aimed easily at her head and teeth bared in a grin. “Déjà vu.”

He’s staring at her with a hint of desperation, like the only other option is staring at himself.

Date: 2007-06-02 12:38 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] didntseeit.livejournal.com
"And no little girlfriend to stop us, baby."

She's smiling at him, but only really in the same that she laughed before. If you look close enough, listen to her quiet voice, there is an edge of hysteria.

Date: 2007-06-02 12:43 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] rigthegames.livejournal.com
He snorts, eyes flickering to the side and down.

“She is a vampire, you know. That tends to beat back-stabbing cartel bitch on the list of people I don’t want to meet in a dark alley.”

His hands are shaking, almost imperceptibly.

Date: 2007-06-02 12:47 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] didntseeit.livejournal.com
"C'mon, honey, aren't we even now? You kill me, I kill you, we're both still standing."

Date: 2007-06-02 12:51 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] rigthegames.livejournal.com
“We are not even,” he hisses. “We are never going to be even. Unless you want to have your eyes drilled out too?”

Date: 2007-06-02 12:52 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] didntseeit.livejournal.com
"Mmm, think I'll pass."

Date: 2007-06-02 01:00 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] rigthegames.livejournal.com
Lip curling, “Yeah, I figured.”

He glances away again, for longer this time as his eyes linger on the blood on- his- face.

“Why the fuck am I here?”

Date: 2007-06-02 01:07 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] didntseeit.livejournal.com
She gives him a long look.

"How should I know?"

She doesn't look away, just keeps...staring at him. Eyes too wide in her blood-splattered face and her lips twist.

"Why are you here? You...I...why?!" It's the same question he asked her, but around the other way. She doesn't notice.

he's dead they are dead killed him killed them killed you traitorous bitch

He's dead. They are dead. Her father is dead and Guevera and her father and Sands and she wants to start screaming.

Date: 2007-06-09 08:45 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] rigthegames.livejournal.com
“I don’t know why.”

His hands shake, gun dropping down to point at her stomach before jerking back up again sharply, and laughter hisses out from between clenched teeth.

“I had the door. I had it. I don’t want to be here. I’d rather be back at- at the fucking bar than here, but I guess that place likes fucking around with us so much it had to go and send me here. With you.”

Date: 2007-06-09 09:46 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] didntseeit.livejournal.com
"Oh, like that's the worst thing." Her lips press together, but she's only another insult away from either screaming or crying.

"They're all...papa...they are dead and it's all your fucking fault"

Date: 2007-06-09 09:59 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] rigthegames.livejournal.com
“Maybe not the worst thing, but- I gotta tell ya, it’s pretty fucking high on the list.”

He snarls, taking a step closer. “I didn’t kill them. I didn’t even get through the fucking doors. This is not my fault.”

Date: 2007-06-09 10:02 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] didntseeit.livejournal.com
They are close now, so close.

She could drop the gun and it'd only take a couple of steps to clench his neck.

"Yes, it is. You. American. Fuck us up, like you always do. Bribe here, whisper there, and the whole country falls."

Date: 2007-06-09 10:05 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] rigthegames.livejournal.com
They’re close enough that, if he shot her now, he could taste her blood.

“So unlike yourself, right? So unlike you and your poor, pure, innocent cartels.

Date: 2007-06-09 10:08 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] didntseeit.livejournal.com
He'd be covered in it, like she is with his.

"Without us, Latin America would be bankrupt."

Date: 2007-06-09 10:26 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] rigthegames.livejournal.com
“And I suppose you’d get on just fine without American’s too, huh?” he grinds out through clenched teeth.

Shoot her, shoot her, why won’t he fucking shoot her?

Date: 2007-06-09 10:32 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] didntseeit.livejournal.com
And she's still Ajedrez enough (or maybe, this part of her is real) to make a face and shrug a little even as she re-adjusts her grip on the gun.

(why can't she just shoot him?)

"Without your government? Yeah. Tis the goverment that fucks everyone around. Hmm? Like Chile, Nicaragua...Mexico. Doesn't involve you."

Date: 2007-06-09 10:56 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] rigthegames.livejournal.com
“And I suppose if your daddy dearest had succeeded today, he wouldn’t have dreamed of fucking people around, setting his sights on bigger things?”

He snorts, casting a contemptuous glance over his shoulder at her father’s corpse.

Date: 2007-06-09 11:02 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] didntseeit.livejournal.com
Now that, Sands, is what we call a mistake. Or rather, two. Because insulting your ex-girlfriend's dead father is always a bad idea when she is holding a gun. As is looking away from her.

Now, if she, for example, steps forward and slams her gun into your jaw, is anyone really going to be surprised?

Date: 2007-06-09 11:16 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] rigthegames.livejournal.com
It shouldn’t come as a surprise, but it does. The blow sends him spinning, and the shock leaves him staggering. He hits the ground with a pained hiss, internal monologue chanting stupid stupid stupid all the while.

He blinks, and he’s staring his own corpse in the- face.

Date: 2007-06-09 11:18 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] didntseeit.livejournal.com
She stares at him, the gun hanging almost limply in her hand. Eyes too wide, but it's as if he isn't there.

"Don't," she says. "Just, don't, Sands."

Date: 2007-06-09 11:28 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] rigthegames.livejournal.com
He sits up slowly, rubbing a hand across his jaw, and nudges the body with a toe.

“What did you say to- him?”

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Ajedrez

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