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It was cold, and bitterly so.
Carmen should’ve expected this, of course. She had fully gained consciousness again, but almost wished she hadn’t. She understood hypothermia - the instructors at VILE had insisted she learn about it and how to deal with it in case of any accidents when on a caper - and, more importantly, understood this entire ordeal would be easier if she sleepily slipped into oblivion.
Now that wasn’t an attitude she was going to have and survive. Carmen almost wished she had stolen the communicator pen from Julia - at least that way, she had a last resort. Her comms were already broken, so that was a no go. Maybe Zack and Ivy could search?
She hoped so.
Carmen had long since given up on climbing out. It was pointless. All she could do now was stay as warm as possible and hope someone would rescue her. That, unfortunately, meant she had to uncuff her jeans, pull her socks as high as they could go, and wrap herself in the glider fabric.
How did she get here, again?
Stay focused, Carmen! She repeated the earlier events in her mind to keep herself calm. She had found Julia. They had discussed their tallies. What a delicate topic of conversation, one that only with Julia was Carmen completely comfortable discussing it. She wondered why that was. Perhaps it was because some part of her trusted one who had so much love to give. Perhaps it was because Julia had never once judged her on her lack of tallies. Or rather, her singular tally. She had just shown she could relate, and admitted she had gotten a new golden tally she couldn’t explain.
Much like the golden tally that Carmen herself had gotten…
And it suddenly seemed so obvious, so plainly in front of her, that Carmen cursed herself for not being able to see it earlier. Sweet, sensitive Jules, who defied societal rules with her and showed her arm, covered in tallies. Brave, beautiful Jules, who loved fearlessly, loved recklessly.
Jules who fell in love with people who would never notice her.
And Carmen? How did Carmen feel? How did she feel about someone who she worked in perfect tangent with, even if they were miles apart? Someone who had always believed in her, even before they’d met? Someone who loved history as much as she did, someone who didn’t mind her lack of tallies, someone who proudly displayed her own.
Someone who trusted her, and she trusted in return.
Carmen shivered, collapsing onto the ground. She curled up in a ball. So often she was the savior, she was the battle-worn soldier, she was the knight in shining armor and countless scars. She would save the whole world, and never think to save herself along with them.
But… maybe someone who loved her would? Someone she loved?
Someone who had just as many marks, but for a far different war?
“Jules,” Carmen whispered aloud, her shoulders shaking. She studied the mark on her wrist and knew that Julia would be doing the same. Sobbing, shaking, wondering why she didn’t see it sooner.
Was it worse to mourn Carmen now, or to never have realized?
Carmen knew in her heart she was dying. She had so often glimpsed death, lived through what she could’ve died in. A raspy chuckle broke through her chattering teeth. I almost died surrounded by fire when I was a baby. And now I’ll die from the cold.
No. No. Who was she, to give up that easily? Carmen was no coward. She was brave. If Julia could face a cruel, uncaring world and give her heart to so many then Carmen could fight through the cold. She could hold on just a little longer,
Hold on for what?
She was waiting for Julia to come save her. What a cruel expectation for her to enforce upon her beloved. What a thoughtless hope. She burned and froze and burned again, she shook and finally her breathing steadied.
Death crawled closer like the shadows of sunset fell upon graves. It had waited patiently, oh-so-very patiently, for Carmen to pass away, for twenty years. It had come close to her before - the battle with brunt, specifically, Carmen remembered - but never like this.
Death.
Carmen was almost afraid now. But not for herself. For the mourning she was inflicting on everyone else. For Player, who she had never hugged. Who she wouldn’t be able to comfort. Would Zack, Ivy, and Shadowsan find his address, and hold him close? She hoped so.
A family.
They had been her family, that ragtag group of criminals. They had cried with her, comforted her, and loved her. She had loved them too, a pure kind of love she knew was just as important as the kind she loved Julia with.
Julia.
Carmen wondered - if she hadn’t fallen, would Julia be able to figure out she was dying? Would she have seen the bleeding tally, felt the shock of pain, and known Carmen’s end was near?
Death crept upon her like a prayer. Death laid it’s blanket over her and whispered sweet nothings. Death told her, you have fought so well, you have done beautifully, I’m so proud of you.
Please, she begged, desperate, as her consciousness started to fade. Please. Let me see them. I want to see them, at least one last time.
Death chuckled, and sat next to her in the snow. She knew she wasn’t alone. She felt it’s presence - that, or she was hallucinating. And she burned, oh how she burned, but she knew she shouldn’t pull off her coat. She knew it was just her mind, but the snow looked so cold, and she felt so hot, but barely resisted.
She wasn’t sure she even had the strength too. Not anymore.
Carmen’s eyes fluttered for a few more moments, and then, and then-
“Carmen!!” Julia’s voice cried, echoing throughout the ravine she was in and into her ears.
Her thoughts were muddled, but she could put one together. Maybe it was her own way of begging for mercy, or showing her gratefulness for these last moments. So death is kind.
Thank you.
It wasn’t a scar yet. It was bleeding, but it wasn’t a scar. It was almost a scar, but it wasn’t.
The never ending chant in Julia’s head as she drove through the snow, as she desperately searched. She knew the chances of her finding Carmen - the chances of Carmen surviving - were growing slimmer and slimmer with every second that passed. The tears in her eyes told her she was already shaking. She trembled and knew that Carmen was doing the same.
Her eyes settled upon the damage of the trees first, and the cliff. She threw her door open and sprinted towards the edge, seeing the glider lodged in the snow first and then the body at the bottom second.
Carmen.
The breath escaped her lungs, in one big rush. There were no fears of abandonment holding her back now. There were no blushes and stammering and soft touches now, nothing to hide behind. The truth was in front of her, that someone she loved, someone she wanted a future with lay there, dying.
“Carmen!!”
The words escaped her lips before she could comprehend them. She had to find a way to get to the bottom, to be able to drive down there and then out of there so she could take Carmen to the hospital. Down, around, and taking way too long. Even driving as recklessly as she was, far more reckless than anyone she had ever driven before.
Until finally, finally she held the one she loved, the one who loved her, in her arms. “Carmen?” She whispered, horrified. Carmen’s eyes slowly peeled open, her cracked lips curling into a smile as she saw her. “Hey, Jules.” Julia pulled off her coat, but Carmen barely waved her off. “It’s okay.”
“I… I’m getting you to a hospital,” Julia said desperately, tears forming in her eyes. She shifted to scope Carmen into her arms, and for her part, Carmen did try. “It’s gonna be okay. They have - they have good… they have great health… hospitals,” she stammered. Her words tumbled out, in no particular order, just like when she was younger. But Carmen made no comment, just curled into her arms.
Both of their shoulders shook with the weight of the world. With the grief of a lover.
“Jules,” Carmen repeated softly, heartbreak and grief and acceptance all swirling together. Her eyes fluttered shut as Julia carried her towards the car. “I love you. I… I always have.”
“No, no, no, please,” Julia begged. She couldn’t have Carmen stolen from her now. Not when their story had just begun. Not when it was written in golden ink, carved into their skins. “I love you. I love you. Please, Carmen, I love you. This can’t end like this.” Her body was racked with sobs, but she couldn’t fall. She couldn’t allow herself to fall, because she carried Carmen in her arms. She was holding Carmen over the edge, trying to pull her back from the nothing. She fought so valiantly in life, fought the mistrust and anger of the world, the lies and tears. Now she was fighting death itself, looking it dead in the eye and saying, not today. You will not take her from me today.
Carmen smiled, now, weakly. “We... could’ve been... happy,” she rasped, her breathing steadily getting shallower. Julia placed her in the backseat of the car, pulling off her coat and draping it like a blanket over Carmen. “But… I feel it. It’s here.” Julia didn’t know if Carmen was talking about the end, about death, or about anything else. But she did know she wouldn’t stand for it.
“We can be happy. You’re going to survive this,” Julia promised. But it felt empty, as empty as her heart was. The world was draining of it’s color, in the helpless, broken way that world’s do.
“Jules,” Carmen said again, like it was the only thing she knew how to say, like Julia’s name was a prayer. Like Julia was her savior. But Julia was no savior. She couldn’t save herself. She couldn’t save the one she loved - she had damned the one she loved to death because she hadn’t been careful enough. “Jules.”
Carmen closed the door and got in the front seat. “I know, Carmen,” she murmured. “I know. But you’re gonna be okay.” As gently as she could, so as not to harm Carmen, she sped through the mountainside. She had to get to a hospital. She had to get to a hospital. She had to save Carmen.
She had to save the greatest love of her life.
“I’m sorry,” Julia sobbed, wiping her tears away. Her wrist ached, bleeding, ever a testimate, a witness, not to the tragedy of their love but the truth that Carmen was still alive. “I’m sorry. I’ll save you.” As she turned onto a road, she let one hand drop behind her, and Carmen took it, her own hands cold as ice.
“Oh, Jules,” Carmen murmured, eyes fluttering shut again. “You... already have.” Her voice dropped even lower, barely audible, so Julia had to strain to hear her. “Thank you for loving me.”
No.
No.
Their shaking shoulders had turned into Julia’s as Carmen’s hand slipped out of hers.
The funeral was quiet. A small affair, even though Carmen had helped so many. It wasn’t even a funeral, just a gathering of Carmen’s… family.
They were family.
None of them blamed Julia for Carmen’s death. They should’ve, but they didn’t. They had seen Julia speeding downt the highway to get Carmen to the hospital, had seen the way she sobbed.
Julia placed purple hyacinths on Carmen’s freshly dug grave, quietly shaking. Her tears were a silent affair, almost lifeless, shaky and unsteady and yet constant. She had been almost numb to it at first, not wanting to believe that Carmen was dead.
But the days went by, and Julia had to face the facts. Three days after Carmen died, she at the freshly scarred tally on her wrist and sobbed for hours, until her throat was sore, until she had exhausted herself.
Carmen had placed all of her trust in Julia, and Julia had failed her. And still, Carmen’s reputation throughout the world, her life, it was nothing but stories of a criminal.
Julia was going to change that.
It started with her blog. Posts about a hero, an almost modern day Robin Hood, who stole artifacts before the real criminal to return them. With help from Team Red, Julia made things as accurate and believable as possible.
Slowly her blog picked up traction, until she was getting interviewed on live TV, until she could tell the world, “Carmen Sandiego was an unknown hero.”
The was hurt most of all.
As word of Carmen’s death - and her life - spread, more and more people began to come forward with their own stories of Carmen. Tales of her greatness, of how she was selfless, of how she had helped the world be better.
Julia returned to the same grave a year later, forget-me-nots in her hand. “Hey, Carmen,” she murmured. Tears were already in her eyes, but that was okay. “I.. I told your name to the world. I made sure they would - they would never forget you.” She chuckled a bit, tears falling onto the flower in her hand as she kneeled. “I know that’s not what you wanted - it never was - but you deserve it. You helped so many people - touched so many hearts. You carried the world on your shoulders, and you did it with a smile.” She exhaled, her voice shaky.
“And - and we’re doing okay. We miss you. I miss you,” she added quietly. “But - but Player, he’s so bright, and full of hope. He’s a great kid. And Zack, and Ivy - they’re always there for me, and they always make me laugh. Shadowsan - he misses you. But he cares about all of us, so much, even if he can’t always find the words to say it.
“And me? I miss you every day. I wonder what’d you be doing, if you were here with us.” Julia turned her head towards the sky, letting the sunlight fall upon her face. “I’m finding your mother. I’ll tell her what you did. Tell her your name.” She fell silent, placing the flowers on the ground. “Don’t you worry, Carmen. You can be at peace. We’ll be okay.”
And though she shook with tears, with grief, with every aching tale she had told about Carmen, she knew it would be true.