SAND AGAINST THE WIND

By Cecilia
ccadams@optonline.net

I was out of town seeing what changes 25 years wrought on my high school classmates. Thanks to Christina for the lyrics and Jo for the theme.

Disclaimer: Fireworks owns them. Maybe we can convince them to do a time-share deal?

Rating: R Language and violence.

Feedback and beta welcome!

Spoilers: There are a bunch here. Honor Thy Father, Runaways, Destiny, The Serpent, The Counterfeit Queen at the very least.

~~~~~

You throw sand against the wind
And the wind blows it back again
William Blake

The winds blew. Hot, dry and strong; they swept down from the mountains, through the canyons and all the way to the coast. They ruled the night and early morning when the cooler sea breezes rested. They sucked the moisture out of everything they touched. The dust they carried stung the eyes and chapped the skin. Their constant wailing assaulted the ears. The temperature rose, plant life wilted and animal tempers frayed under the gusty onslaught. Especially those tempers belonging to animals of the two-legged variety.

"Good morning, Marta," Tessa muttered as she sank into a chair at the kitchen table. "I hope you slept better than I did last night. I think it might be too hot for breakfast."

"Too hot to cook, at least," Marta agreed. She put plates of cut fruit on the table for the two of them. "I thought you said these devil winds wouldn't last more than five days?"

"They don't usually. Seven days is rare. There has to be a break soon." Tessa sounded edgy; they had been staying close to home for almost a week now.

"I hope so, Tessa. Are we still going into town today?"

"Yes, we'll go this afternoon. Things will be cooler then. I worry about what might be happening while we are stuck out here. The Queen should have ridden in to check on things."

"Being caught in the canyon with that wind whipping through would not be good for you or Chico. Besides, there is something..." her voice trailed off.

"What? What do you see, Marta?" Tessa prodded.

"I don't know," Marta told her. "I sense that something strange is about to happen. The cards don't tell me what." She laughed shortly. "Maybe the wind is getting to me."

~~~~~

The wagon ride into town was enjoyable. The winds had died down and it was not too hot. Both women were glad to get out of the house, even if it was only to do the marketing. They spied Doctor Helm drinking a glass of wine at one of the cantina's outdoor tables. They made their made their way over to say hello. He would know how things were in town. Tessa looked at the doctor with concern. He had dark circles under his eyes and he looked exhausted.

"Good afternoon, Doctor," Tessa said brightly. "You look like you had a busy day."

"Ladies," the doctor nodded. "Busy is something of an understatement. This place is a madhouse."

"What do you mean?" Tessa asked. She was keeping her voice light, but her concern still showed.

"It's that damned wind," Helm said. "It's affecting people strangely. I don't know if it's from the heat, the constant noise or if it's because no one seems to be getting much sleep. There were three separate knife fights in town last night. Señora Lopez smashed her husband on the head with a skillet because he was snoring. She's lucky he has such a hard skull; she could have killed him. Captain Grisham has beaten four soldiers to a pulp during "training." Two of them have broken bones. That's a bit excessive, even for him. Finally, Colonel Montoya is after me to look at his bloody horse again because he thinks the heat may be bothering him. Do I look like a veterinarian?" He sighed deeply and took another sip from his glass.

He watched as a group of children passed by, their hands filled with yellow flowers. Helm regarded them quizzically. "Is there something going on that I don't know about?" he asked the two women. There have been people passing by with those flowers in their hands all day."

"Dia de los Muertos," Tessa told him, "Day of the Dead. It's a custom that came over with some of the settlers from Mexico. Today they go to the cemetery, clean the graves and decorate altars near them with flowers. They will leave a glass of water, some food and maybe some possession that the dead person cherished in life. The spirits of the dead are thought to return to their home tonight. They have different things they do to honor the dead each day until All Soul's Day."

"Interesting custom," Helm commented. "It makes sense, though. I had forgotten it was Halloween today."

"Halloween?" Tessa and Marta asked together.

"All Hallow's Eve. The evening before the Feast of All Saints. In my country, the superstitious believe that ghosts prowl the earth tonight, looking for mischief or even for souls to possess. We have several legends and customs surrounding it. We carve a large beet or a turnip and put a candle in it for a Jack O' Lantern. The poor will go from house to house singing and begging for soul cakes. Some people even wear masks outside so the ghosts won't recognize them. It can be a lot of fun." He sounded a little bit wistful.

A mocking voice entered the conversation. "Don't tell me you believe in ghosts, Doctor?" Unnoticed by the three of them, Colonel Montoya had come up beside them as the doctor spoke. Tessa noticed that even the normally immaculate Montoya looked a bit wilted around the edges.

Helm sighed. "No, Colonel. The only spirits I believe in come in a bottle." He lifted his glass to Montoya in a mock salute, then swallowed the remaining contents.

"Excellent, Doctor. Since we have settled that and you have finished your drink, perhaps you will be so kind as to see to my horse." Montoya wasn't exactly shouting by the time he finished, but he was definitely louder than usual.

"Good day, Doctor, Colonel. We need to be returning home. Come, Marta." Tessa moved away quickly before either man could see the smile she was struggling to suppress.

"Poor Doctor Helm," Marta chuckled. "He's not used to having patients who can't describe their symptoms to him."

"I don't know, Marta," Tessa replied innocently. "He could always get Colonel Montoya to translate for him."

Laughing, the two women climbed aboard the wagon to return to the hacienda.

~~~~~

That night, as Marta prepared for bed, her mind drifted back to what Dr. Helm had been saying. Ghosts roaming the world looking for mischief or, even worse, souls? She preferred the Mexican idea of their returning home, as if for a visit. Whichever might be the case, the veil between the lands of the living and the dead was thin this night. More so than on any other night of the year. She could almost hear voices in the hot wind shrieking down from the mountains.

Tessa tossed restlessly in her bed. The temperature had risen dramatically with the nighttime return of the winds and it was too hot to sleep. She thought about the things she had told Dr. Helm. "I wonder if the ghosts do return home tonight," she mused. "Perhaps I should go and leave something for Mama and Papa, just in case." She roamed the house looking for the perfect offerings. She considered and rejected item after item before she found two that suited her.

She found her father's favorite pipe in his study. She filled it with tobacco from a worn leather pouch. She put the pouch to her face and inhaled the familiar scent of her father's tobacco. There were tears in her eyes as she resealed the pouch, carefully rolled it back up and returned it to his desk.

In the kitchen was a large clear glass bottle filled with colored pieces of broken glass. The bottle sat on the windowsill where the morning sun could catch it, throwing sparkling glints of light throughout the room. Tessa remembered her mother collecting glass shards for the jar. Friends would even bring her mother brightly colored bits of broken goblets or other glass. Her mother called it her personal rainbow. Tessa took a small stoppered bottle and filled it with shards from the bigger bottle.

She threw on a robe and wandered outside. "This may have been a mistake, she thought. The sand and dust carried by the wind stung her face. It burned, seeming to retain the heat of its desert birth. She forced herself to ignore the discomfort as she climbed the hill to her parents' graves.

As she reached the top of the hill it was as though she crossed a barrier. There was no wind on the hilltop, the sound was muted and it much cooler. She looked back down the hill to where the ever shifting branches assured her that the wind continued; yet here near the graves she was sheltered.

Tessa placed the pipe and the bottle on the graves and then knelt in prayer. A harsh laugh behind her startled her. "You look good on your knees, girl."

She turned and saw Raul. The deserter looked exactly as he has the last time she saw him. That had been the day she killed him. "But, but you're dead. You can't be here. You're..."

He moved closer. "What's the matter, Señorita?" The word sounded like a curse in his mouth. "Ghost got your tongue?" He chortled at his own joke. He was close enough that she could see the holes in his shirt where the pitchfork had impaled him.

Tessa scrambled to her feet and moved away from him. "What do you want?" she asked with an unsteady voice.

"Why vengeance, of course," he rasped. "You murdered me."

"It was an accident and you know it. Besides, you attacked me. I was only defending myself." Tessa drew courage from her anger.

"So tell me, girl, was it an accident that you and your woman buried my body in an unmarked grave in unconsecrated ground? That no priest said words over me?"

"We couldn't tell anyone what happened, we might have been found out," Tessa shot back indignantly.

"You think keeping your secret is more important than my soul? Your father deserved what he got and you deserve what I am going to do to you," he snarled. He started toward her.

Tessa backed away from him. "How do you fight a ghost?" she thought frantically. She took another step back and fell on top of her father's grave. Raul's eyes lit up with impending triumph. "Papa, help me," she cried.

Suddenly, Raul was tossed back across the clearing. She looked up to find her father standing beside her. He glared at the man huddled on the ground a few feet away. "Begone. You have no power here. You said what you needed to say; your business is finished. You cannot hurt her."

Don Raphael Alverado took his daughter's hand and helped her to her feet. He pulled her into his arms. She rested there a minute drawing comfort and strength from his presence. When she moved away from her father, Raul was gone.

"Tessa," her father's voice was stern, "I don't have much time and there are things we must discuss." "First," he moved to the two graves and removed the items Tessa put there, "thank you for these. Your mother will be pleased."

"Will I see her tonight?" Tessa asked hesitantly. "I miss her so much."

Don Raphael softly stroked the side of her face. "No, my angel. She sends you her love. I can only be here because there are things unfinished between us. Things I need to tell you."

Tessa looked her father in the eye. "Who killed you, Papa? I've tried everything I can think of, but I can't find the truth." When he remained silent, she continued. "How can I avenge you if I can't find the murderer? You showed me my destiny, can't you give me some answers?"

"I'm sorry, Tessa," he said sadly. "Either you will find the truth eventually or it will find you. That is all I may say about it. But before I go, I need to tell you how proud I am of you. You have helped many people. You are an amazing woman, my daughter. I could not have been any prouder if you were my son."

Tessa felt something unclench within her at his words. It was as if she had been waiting for them her whole life. She knew her father had loved her very much, but she had always carried the fear that he was disappointed in her because she wasn't a boy.

She wasn't sure how much he knew about her recent activities, though. "I've had to kill men, Papa. To save myself or others." She watched his eyes carefully to see his reaction. To her surprise, he smiled fondly at her.

"Did you kill in hate or vengeance? Did you enjoy it? Did you kill unnecessarily?" he asked her.

"No. It was awful, but it had to be done."

"Sometimes, death is unavoidable. It should never be easy to take a life, but I would be disappointed in you if you didn't kill to protect yourself or the innocent. You know this in your heart, why does it plague you so? Is it because of the English doctor?"

"You know about Doctor Helm? He thinks I'm wrong to kill anyone, even to save his life. Then he killed a man to save me." She smiled faintly at her father. "It gets very confusing."

"He loves you. His need to save you overcame his need to avoid violence. Your doctor is a good man forced by circumstance and war to do difficult things. He carries great pain in his heart."

"I love him," she admitted. "He cares for the Queen of Swords, but he thinks Tessa is a spoiled aristocrat."

"And she is not?" he teased. "Time will reconcile the differences. And do not despair, Tessa. There will come a time for you to set aside your sword and mask. I promise you this. As for your doctor, I give you my blessing, even though he is a foreigner."

"I love you, Papa."

"Goodbye, Angel. Remember that I love you always." He kissed her forehead and then he was gone.

Tessa knelt and said a prayer for each of her parents and for Raul. Then she made her way back to her bed.

~~~~~

The winds howled through Santa Helena. Doctor Robert Helm finally sank into his bed. He didn't remember being this bone weary since Spain. His patient load had picked up in the afternoon and carried through to the late evening hours. At least most of the injuries had been fairly minor today. He was tired enough that he didn't worry about the heat or the noise keeping him awake. "Maybe I'll even manage to skip the nightmares tonight," he thought as he closed his eyes.

"Well that all depends, Doctor. What would you consider me?" The mocking voice was familiar.

The doctor sat up in bed opening his eyes in disbelief. It couldn't be...yet it was. "El Serpiente?"

"Nice to see you haven't forgotten me." The bandit took the half-full bottle of wine from the table near the bed and pulled the cork out with his teeth. "Mind if I have a drink?" Without waiting for a reply he took a long pull from the bottle.

"That's it. I have to be dreaming," the doctor mumbled.

"What's the matter, Doc? Don't you believe in ghosts?" The bandit laughed. "We believe in you. Why wouldn't we? You created enough of us. Here I thought you were a peaceable healer. Imagine my surprise when I found out I was just a drop of water in an endless sea of bodies."

Helm flinched at the bandit's words. "What do you want?"

"What I'd really like is to finish killing you." Serpiente grinned at him. "Unfortunately, I can't do that. Instead I thought I'd come and have a drink and torment you a little. You can't object to that. After all, you betrayed me then you murdered me."

"I didn't betray you," Helm said hotly.

"No? Leandro is dead because of you - even if it wasn't your hand on the trigger. Poor Leandro. He liked you, Doc. Even now, he doesn't say a bad word about you. Then you have the nerve to show up back at my camp and you lead the Queen of Swords right to me. Isn't that some sort of violation of the doctor patient relationship? Whatever happened to your oath to protect the sick? Fending off the little she-devil was hardly conducive to a complete recovery."

"I didn't know she was following me," the doctor protested. "She was trying to protect me. And it was fortunate for me that she was. You might recall that you had a machete to my head when she appeared."

"That's beside the point," Serpiente continued, ignoring Helm's objections. "You were supposed to be my doctor and act in my interests. Hey, but I'm just a murdering bandit who happened to be your patient. Nobody important. Not like your girlfriend. I notice you were more than willing to abandon your high blown principles for her. Not a hint of hesitation in taking my life to save hers. You two are quite a pair." He set down the now empty bottle.

Helm sunk his head in his hands. He didn't want to hear any more. It didn't seem to matter how hard he tried or how far he went, violence surfaced in his life. He had sworn never to take another life, yet how easily the dagger flew from his hand to El Serpiente's heart. The worst thing was he knew that in the same circumstances, he'd do it again.

"Robbie, isn't it time to stop tearing yourself apart?"

Helm looked up. The Serpent was gone and instead he found his brother Charles sitting in the chair.

"Charles? I don't believe it!" Robert jumped off the bed and rushed to his brother's side. He dropped to his knees and drew his brother into a tight embrace. "I've missed you. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, I didn't even find out until-"

"Hush, Rob," Charles murmured into his hair. Rob felt like he was seven years old again, seeking safety and comfort in his brother's arms when threatened by the nameless monsters populating the night.

The doctor pulled away from his brother and started pacing the room. "Either this is one hell of a dream or I'm losing my mind. People can't talk with the dead, Halloween or not."

"Look at it this way, brother mine; whether I'm really here or you're dreaming - we are still having a chance to have a much overdue conversation."

"What do you mean?"

"When you left for the Army, you thought that we all disapproved of your decision."

"Didn't you?" Rob could not quite keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"Father did. Mother feared for you. The girls didn't know what to think. I admit that I had doubts about your choice, but it was your choice to make. I admired you for going out and doing what thought was right despite everyone's objections. I should have told you that. You were more than just my little brother; you were my best friend. You deserved my support. I'm sorry."

"Thank you," Rob said softly. The relief he felt at his brother's admission surprised him. He hadn't realized how much his brother's lack of support had hurt. A distance had grown between them after that. He had grieved when his brother's death had removed any chance of healing the breach between them. "As it turns out, it wasn't the best decision I ever made," he said sadly.

"Doesn't it get tiring carrying all that guilt around?" His brother's voice was kind.

"Am I just supposed to forget about it?" Robert asked. "Do you have any idea what I did? I can live with killing enemy soldiers in battle, but I did more than that. I let them turn me into an assassin. They aimed me and I killed for them. For what? Patriotism? Love of King and country? I was nothing more than a cold-blooded murderer. I took pride in it, for God's sake. Robert Helm, hero. Ha!" He laughed harshly. "There was nothing heroic in it. It didn't make a difference in the grand scheme of the war. It only made a difference to the lives I destroyed."

"You know that's not true. The people you killed were threats to English lives. If Latham had delivered those troop movements to the French, how many would have died? Or if De Courcy had been able to arrange for the additional arms? Or if Mecklin had been able to contaminate the stores of flour?"

"And his daughter? What was her crime?"

"You had no choice. She was trying to kill you. You had to defend yourself."

"She was little more than a child. She saw me kill her father. Of course she tried to kill me. I should have been able to stop her without hurting her."

"It's always easy to second guess yourself once things are over. If you had hesitated, she would have shot you. It's time for you to let it go, Robbie. What's done is done. You can't keep bludgeoning yourself over the head with your guilt. Start trusting yourself again."

"Physician heal thyself?"

"Something like that," Charles answered, giving his brother a smile. "At least think about it?"

"I'll try," Robert told him.

"Good, because I'm out of time." Charles crossed to him and threw his arm around his brother. "Try and stay out of trouble. Don't turn your back on that Montoya or his pet viper. Kiss the pretty masked lady for me. I think she's better for you than Camilla ever was."

"Wait, Charles! Who is the Queen of Swords?"

"Ah, little brother, that would be telling. Goodbye, Robbie."

"Goodbye, Charles," Rob answered. He went back to his bed. He felt at peace for the first time in a very long while and when he slept, he did not dream.

~~~~~

Colonel Luis Montoya returned to his quarters in a foul mood. He had been in the stables trying unsuccessfully to coax his stallion to eat. He was hot and he stank. He ordered a cool bath. When the tub had been filled he poured himself a large brandy and settled in to soak.

He leaned back and rested his head against the edge of the tub, eyes closed. He had another headache. "This is not the way things were supposed to be," he told himself softly. He had seen his appointment as a chance to make a mark on the world. He had planned to become rich, powerful, and respected. Instead, the Spanish empire was falling apart. The last supply ship from Spain had been in 1810. He had been forced to engage in prohibited trade with England, America and any other nation's ships that happened by. Wages for the garrison and for Montoya himself had last arrived on that ship. He was tired of having to devise creative means of keeping the garrison fiscally afloat. He sighed deeply.

A voice he knew and hated intruded on his thoughts, "It's bad enough that you are a complete failure. Must you also wallow in self-pity?"

Luis opened his eyes. His father sat sprawling in his best armchair; boots propped up on the low table nearby. Luis closed his eyes again, waiting. When he opened them, his father was still there. "What the devil are you still doing here?" he asked his father angrily. He closed his eyes again.

"What are you doing?" Esteban Montoya asked his son. "Do you think you can banish me by napping?"

"I'm doing what I always do when thoughts of you intrude," Luis told him. "I close my eyes, only for a moment, and the moment's gone and so are you. I can't imagine why you are still here."

"Why, I came for a heart to heart talk with my 'beloved' son," his father said nastily. "The least you could do is open your eyes and show some respect."

"I had no respect for you while you were living, why should I acquire any now that you are dead? Go away. I have nothing I want to say to you."

"Were I not restrained from doing so in this form, I would teach you a lesson you wouldn't soon forget, boy." His father moved toward him, hand raised.

It took every bit of nerve that Luis had gained over his lifetime not to flinch in the shadow of his father's uplifted fist. He forced his face to remain calm and his voice steady, "Of course. Violence was always your first response when faced with opposition. Why should you be any different now that you are dead?"

"I am glad I did not live to see the pathetic creature you turned out to be. What happened to you dreams of building your own empire? Where are your riches? And respect, ha, don't make me laugh. You're a bad joke both here and back in Spain. The only thing you've managed since you arrived is to finally put an end to that bastard Alverado."

"What choice did I have?" Luis asked bitterly. "Once he found out I was your son, he was determined to ruin me. He turned the other Dons against me. Once again, you managed to destroy any chance of my success or happiness."

"And your desire for his land and hacienda played no role in his death?"

"Had it not been for your past relationship with him, I might have married his daughter. The Dons were all thrusting marriageable daughters at me. Then, Alverado began to spread word about my wretched father and suddenly I am regarded with suspicion and scorn." Luis looked at his father intently. "Do you have any idea how much I hate you?"

Esteban laughed. "The worm begins to grow a backbone after all." His voice grew quiet and cold. "Tell me, Luis, do you still wake up screaming when you dream of me? Or shall we reminisce about your sweet Francesca? Shall I tell you how she tasted? Or how she cried out for you to save her?"

"Stop!" Luis shrieked. He rose from the tub and moved toward his father, water streaming unnoticed down his body. "You have no right to talk about her, ever. God, I wish I had killed you myself."

"You didn't have the guts," Esteban told him. "Instead you set me up like the mewling coward you are. Did you think I didn't know? The information they had could only have come from you. You would have dragged our family name through the mud. At least I had the courage to take my life so the scandal would never be made public. You should be grateful to me for that."

Luis turned from his father in disgust. "You're pathetic," he said as he wrapped himself in a towel. "I'm not afraid of you any more. You have no power over me. Go away." He walked toward his bed without looking back.

"What's the matter, lover, tough night?" a seductive feminine voice from the bed asked him.

Luis pulled back the bedcovers. "Hello, Carlotta." He sighed. This really wasn't a good night. "Aren't you a bit early? I thought our next meeting was scheduled for hell?"

The thief smiled at him. "A girl is entitled to change her mind, isn't she? I just thought I'd visit and cheer you up a bit." She ran a finger lightly down his chest to the towel at his waist. "Would you believe I missed you?"

"Sadly, no. I would not believe it. I was under the impression that you hated me."

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder?" she asked jokingly. "No, I wouldn't believe it either. Let's just say I gained a new perspective. It was just business, right? I used you, you used me, and we betrayed each other. But it was fun while it lasted, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Luis said gently, "it was most enjoyable. Unfortunately, nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky." He reached a hand out to caress her face, surprised that it had substance.

Carlotta leaned into his touch and sighed. "You are not as bad a man as you wish you were, Luis Montoya. You are not even as bad as you think you are."

"Is that a cryptic message from beyond that I need to decipher?" he asked.

Carlotta laughed. "No, it's just my opinion."

"Good," Luis said. "I was afraid that next you would be telling me to repent and walk the straight and narrow for the sake of my soul."

"No, darling, it isn't your soul I'm concerned with. Let me tell you a secret." She leaned close and whispered into his ear, "I forgive you, Luis. Remember me fondly." He felt her lips brush his cheek, then she was gone.

~~~~~

Morning arrived silently. The air was still and cool. The winds had ended. Residents of Santa Helena and the surrounding haciendas awoke and began to clear away the fine layer of desert dust that covered everything inside and out. At the Alverado hacienda, the young mistress explained to her duenna why one of the glass bottles from the kitchen was missing. In the pueblo, the doctor laughed at his dreams. When he noticed the bottle of wine was empty, he assured himself he must have had more to drink during the night. In his solitary quarters the town's military commander pensively regarded the lace mask he had found beside him when he awoke and the scuffed boot prints on his favorite table.

Dust In the Wind
I close my eyes
Only for a moment, and the moment's gone
All my dreams
Pass before my eyes in curiosity.

Dust in the wind.
All they are is dust in the wind

Same old song
Just a drop of water in an endless sea
All we do,
Crumbles to the ground though we refuse to see

Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind

Now don't hang on,
Nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky
It slips away
And all your money won't another minute buy!

Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
In the wind.