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Getting shot sucked. There was really no other word for it. It flat out sucked. And hurt like hell. And landed her in hospital for the foreseeable future. A month at least, and probably closer to two or three if she believed the doctors. Ivy lay back against the all too flat pillows and shifted her weight gingerly, gasping slightly as even that tiny movement sent jolts of pain though her. It wasn't like she hadn't been beaten up or otherwise injured before. Chasing after a master thief for much of her teenage years taught her that a few bruises and scrapes and broken bones were part and parcel of being a detective. It wasn't until now that she fully realized how different the real world was from the life of a sheltered ACME teen detective.
She left ACME after college, figuring six years of trailing mastermind criminals was really enough for any sane person. Unfortunately, she must not have been sane because the first thing she did after graduation was to join the local police department. With her record at ACME and stellar grades, they were happy to have her as the new junior detective (even if she hadn't been called that since she was fourteen). Most criminals, as she expected, weren't anywhere near Carmen's level of talent or flamboyant style. They also weren't anywhere near as nice. In the two years she had worked with the department, she'd come to appreciate just much more Carmen could have done but never did. For example, she actually survived six years of flat out impossible chases and life threatening situations with little more than bruises and scrapes and the occasional broken wrist or ankle. Unlike now.
Ivy drew a deep breath and winced. It was supposed to be a simple case, something she could have done in her sleep. Instead it turned into a four way shootout between two different drug cartels, the feds, and her. She held her own at first, but her luck didn't last. The first bullet was a sledgehammer to the gut and the second to the ribs. She didn't remember anything past that except blood and screams. From all they told her, she was lucky to still be alive and even luckier to not be paralyzed. At least she was out of the ICU now. Not that she wasn't hooked up to more machines than she liked, but she could breath on her own again. Scuttlebutt had it that she was going to get a commendation out of this whole mess. Or a stack of demerits. Or more likely, given her record, both.
It wasn't so bad during the day when she had the occasional visitor and enough energy to sit up and read, but now it was late at night and her painkillers were wearing off. Jesus Christ, everything hurt. A lone tear trickled down her face. She shouldn't be feeling sorry for herself, but what else was there for her to do? She knew damn well what that she was looking at an early retirement at the ripe old age of 24. No way she'd be able to keep up with the physical demands of the job after this. And Zach was always the smart one. She was just the muscle. Another tear dripped onto her pillow. The room was silent save the sounds the machines around her and her own strained breathing. The toxic mix of pain and fear and frustration finally overwhelmed her, and she broke down sobbing.
She almost missed the movement in shadows. Eight years of training overrode any other instincts, and she sat up fast. Too fast. A wave of nausea and agony hit her already abused body. Ivy slumped over, moaning softly and gasping for breath. She heard the soft click of heels against tile floor and felt gentle hands easing her back into bed and wiping away her tears. She protested with a low whimper but did not have the strength to resist.
"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes, detective," an achingly familiar voice whispered by her ear.
It was several long moments before Ivy could open her eyes and stare at the woman perched at the edge of her bed. She recognized the long raven hair, the piercing blue eyes, and the ever present teasing smile even though it had been years since she'd seen them last "Carmen?" she asked, not quite believing what she saw.
"Who else?" Carmen Sandiego, master thief extrondinare, smiled and reached out to brush back a stray lock of Ivy's hair. "You didn't think I wouldn't keep tabs on my favorite detective, did you?"
"What are you doing here?" Once, perhaps, she might have recoiled at the touch, but that was a long time ago. The leather clad fingers were warm and soothing. Black leather. Carmen always wore black leather gloves. "You're not supposed to be here, you know," Ivy whispered.
"I heard what happened and thought you might want some company," Carmen flashed her a brilliant smile. "Nights can get lonely sometimes."
"But...but you might get caught," she blurted out without thinking and was rewarded with a rich laugh from the thief.
"Ivy, darling, if you and Zack couldn't catch me all for all those years, do you really think the staff here will?" Carmen asked playfully. "You're giving them far too much credit, and me too little."
"Perhaps," Ivy managed a small smile despite everything. "I should be trying to arrest you. You're probably in the middle of some heist right now and coming here throws ACME off your trail."
"Trying being the keyword there, detective," Carmen smirked. "You're not in any shape to do anything, much less chase me around the city."
Ivy scowled. Damn that woman for being right. As usual.
"Is it so hard to believe that I would wish to see you of my own accord?" the master thief rested one hand on hers and asked softly.
"Just a little," Ivy whispered. "I didn't think you cared."
"How could I not? You and Zack were my best opponents in the game. You were a challenge and a pleasure to play against, and not at all like the kids they're sending out against me now. Sometimes I wish you hadn't left ACME, Ivy," Carmen's voice turned oddly tender with just a hint of sadness. "You never got into situations like this when you were busy chasing after me. Should I plan something special for you, to keep you out of trouble?"
"You're a little out of my jurisdiction these days, Carmen," Ivy grinned at the older woman. "Don't think the boys at the precinct would believe me if I told them I was after you."
"More's the pity then," the thief shook her head, black hair falling loose into her face. "Will you join ACME again? After this, I mean. They'll take you back, I know. Chances are, they still haven't revoked your clearances yet. Goodness knows mine are still in the system."
"Zach did get around to purging your data before he left for college, so you can't just waltz in like you did that one time," Ivy said. "As for the other, I don't know. Not that I didn't enjoy chasing you all over the world or anything, but...but I want something more."
"We're alike in that way, you and I," the thief chuckled softly and tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "Always wanting just that little bit more out of life."
When she was younger, she would have disagreed and protested that she was nothing like the criminal mastermind. Now, older and wiser, she wasn't quite so sure. They were two sides of the same coin, she and Carmen. No one knew her quite as well as the master thief did. Six years of rivalry and one-upsmanship taught her Carmen's flaws and virtues and Carmen hers. At some point in her tenure at ACME, Carmen had turned from the enemy into something like a friend. A friend that broke the law consistently and sent her on the craziest wild goose chases around the world (and on some occasions, through time), true, but also a friend who watched out for her and made sure she never actually got hurt. She realized then that capturing Carmen would put an end to that unspoken relationship between them, and the game lost its thrill. That was when she walked out of ACME one summer evening, swearing that she would never come back.
"Do you still enjoy the game?" Ivy asked. "Or are you also looking for something more?"
"I'm always looking, darling," Carmen gave her a sly little smile. "I'll let you know when I find her."
"Flirt," Ivy whispered and then winced. The really good painkillers she was on had well and truly worn off by now, and she couldn't just ring for the nurse for more. Not unless she wanted Carmen to leave. Which she really didn't. "Damn," she said through gritted teeth, "wish it didn't hurt so damned much."
"Hush, darling," Carmen reached out to stroke Ivy's pale face and then tapped the call light on her nightstand. "Let me."
"But they'll find you..."
"You underestimate me, darling. Not many see past the hat and the coat, you know. If they should ask, I'm just another concerned coworker of yours, checking up on you. But they won't. People are never that curious, or I wouldn't get away with half the things I do."
Ivy blinked. She'd been so surprised at seeing Carmen that she hadn't noticed the lack of that signature crimson fedora and trenchcoat. No, Carmen just wore a simple short sleeved black dress belted at the waist, neat heels, and the ubiquitous black leather gloves. Nothing special, nothing to distinguish her from any other well dressed woman, unless you knew the mocking gleam in those piercing blue eyes. Which she did very well. "Only half, Carmen? You're slipping."
"I misspoke. Three quarters. ACME isn't what it used to be," the thief smirked, but her hand continued to stroke Ivy's tangled hair.
"Liar," Ivy whispered. The friendly banter and soft caresses kept her distracted enough until the night nurse came rushing in with the tray of syringes. She tolerated the nurse checking her vitals and hissed as she felt the syringe prick her arm. Somewhere in midst of all that, she realized that Carmen had never let go of her hand. The nurse eyed Carmen warily at first, but a charming smile and some concerned questions disarmed her completely. Ivy should have known that she didn't need to worry about Carmen. By the time the nurse left, the painkillers were kicking in again, and she was drifting off in a drug-induced haze.
"Carmen?" she asked, her voice soft and hesitant.
"Yes, Ivy?"
"I missed you."
"I know, darling, I know."
"You have to go now, don't you?"
"Yes. The game calls, and I must answer," Carmen leaned forward, almost close enough to kiss, "but you know how to find me, if you wanted to. See you next crime, Ivy."
Ivy was never quite sure what happened after that, but she remembered falling into clear blue eyes and the lightest brush of lips against hers before being claimed by darkness.
Morning came, and she woke alone with the memory of a stolen kiss from the best thief in the world. She sat up slowly with a soft sigh. Perhaps it was all only a dream. Then something unusual on her nightstand caught her eye, something that hadn't been there before. A Ming vase filled with a dozen crimson roses the same shade as a well known trenchcoat and fedora welcomed her. Ivy suppressed a groan. Vases of that quality didn't grow on trees. Someone in a museum somewhere must be throwing a fit right about now. A card of creamy linen paper monogrammed in burgundy ink sat propped up against the blue and white porcelain. She reached for it with trembling hands.
No one maiden I think shall at any time see the sunlight that shall be as wise as thou.
I know not what to do, my mind is divided.
The moon has set, and the Pleiades; it is midnight, the time is going by, and I sleep alone.
~ C
PS: The vase is authentic Ming Dynasty, from the Summer Palace in 1900. Don't worry, no one will miss it. It would only have been broken anyways.
PPS: Channel 8 news, you might be entertained.
Ivy closed the card with a smile and turning on the news to the indicated channel. The breaking news story involved several hundred pounds of cocaine left on the governor's desk and the capture of multiple local cartel leaders by law enforcement. The same ones she had been investigating earlier coincidentally. She hid a small smile. With Carmen, there was no such thing as coincidences.