Title: "The Insomniac's Lullaby"
Author: monimala
Fandom: "Once Upon a Time in Mexico"
Rating/Classification: AC for language, gen, Sheldon.
Disclaimer: Nope. I don't own him.
Summary: Someone without eyes doesn't sleep.

Someone without eyes can't sleep.

He doesn't know when he concluded that. Somewhere between midnight and four a.m. with dried blood sinking into his pores. He desperately needs to ex-fucking-foliate but nobody in Culican will lend a blind man a loofah. Which is fine since he can't even find his own ass in the dark to wash it and he's pretty sure nobody gives a fuck about Sheldon's pretty boy face and he might just lie in a pile of his own filth until he just gives up and dies.

But he won't. Die.

To die, to sleep, to sleep perchance to fucking dream.

Ay, there's the goddamned rub.

Mama Sands didn't raise her boy to give up just because he got his eyes gouged out in Mexico. Of course, to be fair, Mama Sands didn't raise her boy at all. He didn't have a mother. His pistol of a foster dad told him he hatched from a fucking egg. That was five minutes before he brained him with a kitchen chair. He spent two years in juvie for that gorgeous stunt. Thank the fucking Lord for sealed records...not that the Agency cared. Maybe they hired him on expressly because of his skill with chairs.

But he still can't sleep.

He tried naming all the Beatles albums in order. Including each track. Then, he tried it in reverse. Still awake. Sheep. He tried sheep. And you can bet your bippy that's the *only* time Sheldon Jeffrey Sands will admit anything of that nature. Still nada.

So, his spidey sense tells him that there's no rest for the wicked.

Maybe he's looking forward to years and years of listing every city that begins with 'R' in southern Texas, the 'B' sides of obscure vinyls from the late 70's, and the locations of every freckle on every girl he's ever boffed.

Maybe he'll never sleep again because he's got no eyes to close.

Of all the things he's lost... he never thought this would be the worst. To be left like this, for all eternity. Awake. Always awake. It's fucking awful. The worst. The absolute worst.

Him and Van Morrison and Jim Croce forever and ever. Amen.

And then he remembers that someone without eyes can't cry.

--end--

October 7, 2003.



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