Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Brunt finally leaves Carmen alone after a few of the longest hours of her life.

The walls of her former childhood bedroom are bare of the maps and drawings she once hung there; the drywall is cracked where it looked like someone’s fist had whaled on it until the insulation was visible and spilling out. The windows are barred, the door is padlocked, and Carmen is left to lay chained in a pool of her own blood.

She is thankful that Brunt had quickly grown tired of shouting above the crowd as she whaled on Carmen again and again, and had ended the assembly so that she could drag Carmen to a more quiet space where she could really hear her scream.

When Carmen hears the door open again, she can’t find the will to move from where she was lying face-down in the blood that has been steadily dripping from her nose. If it was Brunt again, she would just have to hope she was there to kill her.

Whoever opened the door seems to be deciding whether or not to come closer. Their footsteps keep brushing the floor as they step forward and then step back again before any real ground can be covered.

Probably a student then, Carmen manages to think. It wasn’t as though her location was kept much of a secret- the whole island could probably hear her earlier, especially the time in their hours together when Brunt had decided to break her arm as slowly and painfully as she could manage it. If a student was stupid enough to want to escape from VILE now that they were here, all they needed to do was look in and see what Carmen looked like for their hopes to be dashed…

The footsteps finally grow brave enough to approach her. Or, Carmen thinks, maybe this was a student wanting to practice their own torture methods. VILE probably wouldn’t do much to discourage that, either.

She hears fabric rustle as the person crouches.

“You had better not be dead, Fedora.”

Tigress.

Carmen moves to give her a thumbs up, momentarily forgetting the broken arm. As soon as she moves the pain rockets up her arm and simultaneously reignites the pain off the brand, leaving Carmen mostly just to whimper in response to the question as nausea from the white-hot pain steals her breath.

“Okay. Jesus. You kind of almost are.” Tigress mutters. A bit of the dim light Carmen can see through her eyelids goes out- she lets them peel open and sees Tigress peering at her, covering her face in welcome shadow after the long hours of harsh light. The operative’s eyebrows contract. She pulls away and, without much warning, grabs Carmen’s shoulder and pulls her onto her back.

Carmen cries out. She can’t help it, and doesn’t have the energy to want to. She draws her arm up to her chest, clutching it as well as she can as the brand’s pain begins radiating across her skin.

Sheena sucks in a breath. “You look like shit.”

“Well I feel great. ” Carmen manages to reply, still trying to find a way to support her broken body so that it hurts the least. She coughs as the blood from her nose begins to backtrack into her throat. The iron taste is too familiar, and she bites back a gag.

“Tch. So she didn’t beat the sarcasm out of you. Well, a girl can hope.” Sheena rises to her feet and looks around. The room is mostly stripped bare of anything now (especially anything Carmen might be able to use to escape, not that she can even move anyway), but Sheena finds a curtain and tears a large chunk out of it with a claw. She returns, tears it in half, and presses the piece to Carmen’s still bleeding nose. Carmen blinks.

“Not the most effective way to suffocate me.”

“Oh, shut up.” Sheena growls, removing one hand and using the other end of the fabric to start scrubbing at the dried blood on the rest of Carmen’s face. She winces.

“You shouldn’t be doing this.” Carmen says hoarsely ( whatever this is ) and draws away as best she can. The lines of Sheena’s face harden and she ignores her. 

“ Sheena.” Carmen tries again, and this time the operative stops and glares at her, silent.

Carmen relents after only a second and lets her head drop back down, her eyes shutting again as another wave of nausea and pain overtakes her from the effort of moving. “Fine. On your own head…”

“God, Coach really must have beaten you. I never thought I’d see Black Sheep without her stubborn streak.” Tigress snorts. 

“Don’t call me that.”

“Seriously? You’ve got- what- four or five broken bones and a concussion and a third degree burn and shit and you’re worried about what I call you?” 

“In this room, yes.” Carmen mutters. Sheena brings the cloth away from her face, looking to see if the bleeding has stopped. It has. This leaves Sheena the time to roll her eyes and look around.

“What is this place, anyway? I didn’t even know this building was here when we were students.”

Carmen ignores her, squinting in an attempt to make her brain do anything besides try to tell her she was dying. Maybe Sheena was right about the concussion. “Sheena, if you get caught in here oh-so-tenderly dressing my wounds, for whatever reason you’re doing that-”

“Okay, seriously, Black Sheep, shut the fuck up.” Sheena snaps. “Maybe I’ve got a kink for taking care of annoying beat-up losers who are uncooperative and rude.” The exaggerated emotion on her face tells Carmen that is likely not the reason. “Is your chain long enough for me to sit you against a wall? The sprawled starfish in a puddle of your own blood is not a good look.”

Carmen squints, trying to summon the energy to be offended. “I cannot believe I am having this conversation with you right now.”

“Okay, I’ve asked you two questions so far and you haven’t answered either of them. So until you answer them, I’m going to have to assume- let’s see- this is the room where you lost your virginity and that the chain is long enough, so I’m acting under those assumptions now.”

Sheena’s arms hook under Carmen’s and she begins dragging her towards the nearest wall. Everything else leaves Carmen’s mind instantly as the movement jostles her wounds, and a groan escapes her. Her back hits a wall and her head quickly follows as she grits her teeth against the fresh agony. The chain, fastened around her ankle, had apparently been sufficiently long.

“Fuck, that hurt. A little awareness of the broken bones could be nice.” Carmen hisses. Ignoring her, Sheena drags the thief’s good arm away from her torso and starts to look at the brand, pulling another unused length of curtain and a water bottle from somewhere and wetting the cloth, placing it over the burn. Carmen forgets her annoyance as the cool temperature begins calming the inflamed, blistering red mess she used to call skin, and she sees Sheena grin.

“I thought you didn’t swear, Fedora. Last time I heard you curse was when-”

“-You cheated at our coin pickpocketing game and scratched the daylights out of my leg, yes. I wish you’d been this sweet back then.” Carmen grits her teeth again as another wave of pain goes up her spine. “Gone soft over the years, Sheena?”

“Not very nice to say to the person who’s making your ass feel better. Be happy I’m not in here to torture you. I’ll be the last one to come in who doesn’t. Take this.” Sheena shoves a couple pills in Carmen’s mouth, who chokes.

“ What the- ack-” 

“They’re pain meds. Here-”

“You couldn’t have started with that?” Carmen swallows them, shaking her head a little when Sheena offers water. 

“Not if I didn’t want you to choke and die. Would you answer me about where the fuck we are?”

Carmen sighs and squeezes her eyes shut, speaking reluctantly. “It’s where I lived for…about the first sixteen years of my life that I can remember,” she says quietly. She watches Sheena process that and then looks around the room again, eyes wide.

“What- you mean you were raised here?”

Carmen’s silence answers her. Sheena laughs. “Well, doesn’t that explain a lot. No wonder you were so good in every fucking class. And why you had a codename at the start of the year.” Her eyes widen again. “ That’s why Brunt is so pissed. You didn’t just leave a year of VILE, you left a lifetime! God, you’re lucky you aren’t dead!”

“Am I?” Carmen mutters. 

Sheena stops laughing and sits back on her heels, frowning. “Don’t say that.”

“Oh, please. You’re suddenly acting like you didn’t just hold me down to be branded a few hours ago.” Carmen snorts, confusion suddenly flooding in as the pain relents enough for her brain to start working. “Is that why you’re here now? Guilt? I made a cat joke while I was being burned at the stake and you remembered I’m a person?”

“Please. I’ve always known you were a person. God, you excelled at it. At least with you finally down I don’t have to prove to Coach that I’m not just your shitty replacement.”

Carmen stares at her, wide-eyed, and Sheena sighs, mouth twisting into a frown. “As soon as you got caught, you weren’t VILE’s one that got away anymore. I could be the best combative operative they had. And once that drive to prove I was better than you was out of my head…” Sheena glances at her, and her lips tighten. “Well, the fog cleared up and I think- God, I don’t know, maybe I am guilty. Maybe I can see that you always were better than me no matter how hard I tried because you chose to be good, even though it’ll end up killing you.” She runs a hand over her face. “Who the fuck knows. But I’m here now, risking my ass for Carmen Sandiego of all people, and I can only imagine that it being you is the reason why.”

She throws her hands up and turns on her heel, going to stare out the window, which is difficult since it has bars on it. She’s trying so hard not to look at Carmen that it’s almost painful.

“Well,” Carmen says. “Thanks for being here, for whatever reason that is.” She exhales. “And thanks for earlier, too. I do actually appreciate you…doing what you did for me. On the stage.”

“Don’t mention it.” Sheena shakes her head as though clearing it, and her lips form a tight line. She looks back and her gaze lingers on Carmen. “If I were in your shoes…just- don’t mention it. Anyway, you’ll get out of this. You always do.”

Carmen is quiet for a second. “That’s a nice thought.”

“You don’t think so? For the love of God, I’ve had you hogtied in a mine 100 feet underground outnumbered ten to one and you still got away.”

“This is oddly encouraging from someone who’s supposed to be my mortal enemy.”

“Just a prediction.” Sheena rolls her eyes and steps closer. She crouches and takes the wet cloth off of Carmen’s brand. The air hits it and Carmen flinches- the pain is duller from the meds now, thankfully, but nowhere near gone. “And then you’ll go and have this cool scar to show all of your little annoying redhead henchmen and we can go back to hating each other.”

“I probably couldn’t go back to hating you knowing you put yourself on the line just to do this.” Carmen murmurs. “Bring me some comfort before VILE- I don’t know what. Slaughters me or tortures me until my mind breaks or erases my mind and makes me steal for them.”

Sheena’s face tightens and she looks away as though embarrassed. “I’ve probably been here too long. I should go.”

“Right.” Carmen replies, strangely reluctant for her to leave. “Thank you. Again.”

“Like I said, don’t mention it. And, Carmen,” Sheena swallows, and then looks away again, “-whatever they do to you next, I hope it’s quick.” 

Chapter Text

Crash.

The breath leaves Carmen’s lungs like it’s on fire as her back slams against the wall, shock reverberating up her spine.

Alright, I’m up.

When her eyes peel open, Brunt is towering over her, eyes sweeping her body. “Who was in here?” She demands, and aims a kick at Carmen’s side like she’s a dog. She can only respond with a groan of pain, the extent of her previous beatings reminding her incessantly of their existence. “Who helped you?”

Coach isn’t alone this time. Bellum and Maelstrom emerge from behind her, eyes sweeping her and the room. Cleo, evidently, could not bear to get blood on her shoes and is absent.

Carmen can feel the knot in her stomach squeeze tighter.

“Evidently,” Bellum says, “someone dragged you to the wall. You were sleeping like the dead, which indicates medication. Your wounds seem better, too- better than I predicted they should be, and I am never incorrect. So-”

“-who was it?” Maelstrom finishes the hiss in her other ear. Carmen cringes away.

Tigress. The name balances on her tongue tip in an instant. Every breath is a reminder of what’s been done and what is still to come. Perhaps, if she gave Tigress up, they would be gentler, give her a break, focus their efforts on a different traitor for a change, make an example of her instead…

She squeezes her eyes shut for just a second. “Bite me,” she says instead, because she knows she could never live with herself if she transferred even a fraction of the pain she was being dealt onto someone who had helped her.

The Faculty are still, annoyed glances flitting between them. “Have it your way.” Maelstrom says. “Go ahead, Coach, dearest.” Carmen sees him smile, and the sight sends a chill into her feverish body.

Bellum and Maelstrom retreat to a far corner, leaning against the wall lazily and watching. Brunt picks up a hammer.

“You’re a good pickpocket, aren’t you, Black Sheep?” Brunt says. The woman grabs a hold of her by a wrist and tosses her forward effortlessly, so that she lands prone. Carmen yelps, pain cracking along her prior injuries upon the rough landing. She ignores it, still trying to steel herself, eyes wide and breath hitching. 

“I said, aren’t you? ” Brunt’ voice pitches into anger and she pins one of Carmen’s hands flat to the floor with one of her own. Dread rips through the thief. No. Please… Fruitlessly, Carmen squirms, trying to yank her hand free.

Brunt lifts the hammer in her other hand and brings it crashing down onto a finger. The thief howls, feeling her nail split under the force of the blow as it travels down into bone.

The hammer comes down again on the next finger. Carmen’s body takes over from her mind, animal, and she thrashes in Brunt’s grip, wild howls like trapped animals escaping gutturally from her core.

“A name, Black Sheep! That’s all it takes to stop me!” Brunt roars over the din. Carmen screams, and does not say a name.

When all five fingers are bloodied and blue, Brunt draws back for a moment and lets them curl and shrivel into the sanctuary of the palm, Carmen drawing them to her chest as she whimpers.

“Oh, Black Sheep.” Maelstrom has crawled closer again. “Wouldn’t it be easier just to give up one more traitor? Isn’t your mission to doom us all anyway? What’s the difference in getting one more operative out of the way early?”

“You-” Carmen pants. Wheezes. “-you taught me interrogation survival yourselves.” She starts laughing, and laughs harder when it starts to hurt. “Undo your own work. To get that name, you’ll have to break me. ”

“Interesting.” Bellum muses. “Why would you have any loyalty to them? Surely a pill and a wipedown with half a curtain aren’t enough to endear someone to you to the point of this. Not when we both know their punishment would be a comparative slap on the wrist.”

“ Fuck you.” Carmen gasps. Her fingers pulse with agony, every thump of her heart making them send pain pulses to her brain again and again.

“Or- perhaps this must be someone from your class! Bonding over the course of a year is a good way to ensure some lingering loyalty. What do we think?” Bellum ponders, standing in front of her so that she must crane her neck to see her. “El Topo, perhaps?”

“No-” Carmen’s voice whirls unbidden from her chest. The thought of him, hand in hand with Le Chevre, watching her, flashes through her head. “It wasn’t him. It wasn’t- any of them.”

When Black Sheep was a child, she used to believe Maelstrom could read minds. She wonders if it's true now as she lies through her teeth. She hopes the fact that their knowing that guessing blindly about which operative to punish will result in more consequences than benefits.

Brunt finds a chair from somewhere and plunks it down in the center of the room. She drags Carmen to it by her hair.

“Fine.” Maelstrom rolls his eyes. “If you wish to be uncooperative, then break you we will.”

Carmen is hauled into the seat and strapped down. She jumps as something touches her face before she goes blind- someone finishes tying the cloth around her eyes and her panic spikes as all of her visuals are lost to her, leaving only the metallic taste of blood in her mouth for her to ponder.

Something metal cracks across her ribs once- twice. She doubles over and wheezes- it feels like a metal pipe, just a little lighter. Familiar- like she’s felt it before. Over and over…

A jolt of electricity crackles through her body from her back, and she realizes what it is. This must be a new setting, because the crackle rod isn’t knocking her out to merciful darkness and it doesn’t seem to be killing her. It just feels like fire going through her body, speeding up her heart, immobilizing her and yet somehow she is still writhing-

It stops. She slumps. Brunt yanks her head back by her hair, her throat curving out in a vulnerable arc as she struggles to breathe.

Carmen whimpers. The cold edge of the crackle rod briefly presses against her neck and she chokes at the sudden lack of air, sucking it in hungrily when it is released again. From behind her, Brunt shoves the back of her chair and she crashes forwards onto her face and stills, feeling unconsciousness start to beg her to succumb.

She does not like to be asleep when they are hurting her. It makes her a doll, a figurine, a plaything. People are willing to do much worse to a toy than to a person.

So she fights away the sleep and pretends the best she can that she is already in the future when her mind will have reduced this to a hazy blur and the blinding pain will have faded to burning and throbbing and aching instead.

Brunt puts down her tools and begins to hit her.

–

Outside, watching from a distance through the window with her glasses, Tigress is carelessly letting a tear slip down her face. She watches Carmen’s mouth and begs it to say her name, but all it does is scream.

She cannot give herself up, but she wishes the other thief would. She wishes she would break those perfect fucking morals just once, to show she did have a selfish streak underneath the stubborn generosity. To see her snap again, and see past the perfect teacher’s pet gone rogue in the name of justice, in the way it used to be so easy to do when Black Sheep was still just Black Sheep.

To show her that the feeling that’s boiling in her chest is based on nothing, as it always is in this world of smoke and mirrors she works in.

She doesn’t.

Carmen never says her name, and the Faculty, once they’ve beaten Carmen so that her skin is more black and blue than brown, give up on getting the name. Tigress suspects they stopped caring once they got another hit of vengeance to stimulate their senses.

Long after Carmen has gone completely still but for the weak, rattling breaths struggling in her bloody chest, left as a lost cause for the information, Tigress sits and watches from afar. Her claws dig deep into her palms, and the streaks of red lefts across her face when she swipes a hand over it are a promise.

Chapter Text

Is Carmen still breathing? It has been a few days. Surely they would have made an announcement if she had died and Sheena would be curled up in her bed struggling to breathe. The view through the smudged window is too poor to really tell, and so there is nothing else to do but go inside.

Tigress waits for the groan, the irritated look, the sarcastic quip that Tigress has hungered for in the days since she left Carmen propped against the wall. It doesn’t come- Carmen barely even stirs. Barely. 

Sheena notices her muscles bunch far too late, and Carmen jumps before she can dodge out of the way. The chain tightens, one of Carmen’s feet holding it taut as her good hand wraps the other end around Sheena’s throat and pulls.

“You-” Carmen snarls, but she is already beginning to shake with the agony of it all, “-how could you fucking come back after seeing what they did to me after the last time? This is how you repay me for keeping silent? You fucking-”  

Her anger is already slipping into exhaustion and Sheena finds that she can breathe, the chain nothing more than a collar. And so, she draws a breath and begins to laugh.

Carmen’s black-and-blue body gives out on her. The chain drops along with the thief’s body, and Sheena is only barely able to catch her, clutching at Carmen’s limp form to keep her upright in a horrible tango. Her shoulders shake and she lets her head fall into Carmen’s shoulder. Carmen sucks in a breath.

“Thank God,” Sheena chokes. “You are human. You’re angry. Jesus fucking Christ, I thought it was impossible.” She bends, letting Carmen down to the floor. The thief makes no movement, the adrenaline gone and taken over with pain Sheena can only imagine. “You said you couldn’t go back to hating me and you did.”

“I didn’t.” Carmen says, almost too quietly for Sheena to catch. “If I really hated you like I should, I would have said your name.”

“Well, you should have. I would have said yours.” Sheena nearly stumbles over the sentence, unable to decide whether or not she is lying.

“One of us has to think of someone other than herself.” The thief recovers just enough to curl her broken body into a ball, clutching her swollen fingers to her heart. “I’ll think of the both of us next time- next time-” 

Sheena cannot recall a time she has heard Carmen’s voice wobble with tears, not through every beating she has endured. Or maybe it’s just exhaustion. Whatever it is, it's new.

“Why snap now?” Sheena sits beside her, facing the door. “Why not give up my name if you were just going to try to kill me as soon as I came in here?”

Carmen snorts, eyes opening, glassy as they stare into space. “I could never kill you. I wouldn’t have the heart. The Faculty could.”

“They haven’t killed you.”

“I’m of value to them.” Carmen offers a quiet, sardonic laugh. “You’re replaceable.”

Sheena waits for surprise, or betrayal, or hurt. Nothing surfaces but a cool glare with nothing behind it and she sits back, searching for the words she wants.

“Why do you hate me?” Sheena whips around as Carmen’s voice emerges again, the wobble definite this time.

“I helped you.” Sheena says incredulously.

“No. You set me up.” Carmen’s laugh is thick with tears. “You held out a hand and showed me kindness. Lit a little candle in my heart. Made me believe I might be okay.” She’s shaking again now, not with pain but with a miserable rage that makes Sheena want to run. “And then you left me to the wolves, let them see that candle’s flame and they used it to burn me again and again. And you’ve come back to do it all over again. I think only someone who really hated me could do that.”

Sheena’s heart twists as Carmen’s forehead presses into the floor, sobs choked by clenched teeth and broken ribs. Her legs itch, yearning to flee from the responsibility of her actions, but her heart is stone-heavy and doesn’t let her get up.

“I care about what happens to you.” Sheena says.

“Not enough to care beyond the fact that taking care of me makes you feel less shit about yourself. I leave your mind once you leave this room, and then the consequences of your actions hit me instead of you.”

Sheena shifts. “That’s not true.”

“Really?” Carmen scoffs, sobs drying to gasps. “That’s funny.”

“I’m serious. I watched them hurting you. I- I begged, Black Sheep, I begged you to give me up, and you didn’t, you just let them hurt you-”

“That is funny, Sheena, seriously, because I didn’t fucking hear it.” Carmen turns stiffly to face her.

“I cried-”

“And I screamed, Sheena. Everything but your name. And you’re still putting the blame on my shoulders.” Sheena withers under a glare that she’s never seen Carmen wield. “Do me a favor and leave me alone so that we can both rest knowing that the next time I get tortured it won’t be your fault.”

Sheena’s fists ball again, claws finding the familiar crescent-scabs and re-opening them. A war begins between her heart and her cowardly legs, yearning to run. “I can’t. Just leave, I mean.”

“You could. You just won’t.”

The breath catches in Sheena’s chest and she feels pressure build in her head, threatening tears. “I won’t.” She repeats. When she meets Carmen’s eyes, one swollen nearly shut and the other bloodshot, her heart suddenly pulls ahead.

“Are you willing to die?” Sheena asks.

“For you? Less and less.”

“No.” Sheena unleashes a claw and begins to saw through the chain binding Carmen to her prison. “With me.”

When she looks up, Carmen’s eyes are wide and her mouth has fallen open. Sheena falters. “Hopefully not today. If all goes well. But if they catch me, then- well-”

“Sheena.” Carmen breathes. “Are you serious?”

Sheena nods.

“You’re not going to cut my chain and run?”

“No.” Sheena breathes. “Not this time. Not again.”

Carmen nods, and the return of that familiar goodwill nearly makes Sheena’s hand slip off of the chain as the other thief speaks. “Get me out of here.”

Chapter Text

“I grow tired, Gunnar.” Bellum leans back in her chair. “You promised me a test subject. The Coach has, instead, gotten a punching bag.”

“Coach Brunt has scores to settle, Saira.” Maelstrom says. “I am unwilling to get in her way, but you are more than welcome to try…”

“Gunnar.” Bellum stands, turns his chair so that he will look at her forcing him to quit the over-the-shoulder dismissal he's been in the habit of lately.. “If she ‘settles any more scores’ with Black Sheep, the mind we want to wipe will be splattered all over the walls of that cell.”

His hands steeple.

“I will have a chat with her.”

“I raised that bitch with my own two hands, Maelstrom, you think your fancy fucking doo-hickey is going to make her listen to you?”

Gunnar ducks as a chunk of the table they had just installed flies past his ear.

“Coach, dearest, being raised here, by you, by us, is what made her the accomplished thief she is today. No one can deny it. We are simply fixing whatever caused her to stray from her family in the first place.” His hand rests on Brunt’s wrist, and does not even halfway circle it. “She clearly will not break on the rat, and if your… physical tirades against her continue, she may be broken to the point where we need to discard her. She’ll never be of any use like that.”

“Who cares? She betrayed us. You should want to see her suffer as much as me.” Brunt snarls.

“And I have.” Maelstrom nods sagely. “You have done a wonderful job of making her suffer. She carries now the symbol of VILE with her for the rest of her life. But we cannot begin to repair the damage she has done to us all without a monetary source. A brainwashed superthief could be that source…but not if you keep breaking her fingers.”

Brunt’s fists relax just slightly from their tight ball, and Maelstrom knows that he has won.

Bellum grips the mind-wipe glasses and trembles so much- the excitement of it all- that she has to ask Maelstrom to open the door. Two grunts trail behind them. Carmen, though, is not well enough to even move to a different place for this first complacency modification, so she doubts they will be needed.

When the door is opened, her test subject has been replaced by a sawed off chain.

“Can’t you go any faster?” Sheena snaps. Instead of a burst of spiteful energy, Carmen lets out something like a whimper. Sheena curses. 

“Carmen. Don’t fucking pass out on me, we’re almost there. Carmen. ”

“It hurts.” Carmen murmurs, like a child. “Maybe you should just–”

“ No, Sandiego-”

“-pretend you caught me up here. Be their hero. We’re not–”

“Shut the fuck up. We’re almost to the helicopter and I need you fucking conscious to help me run it, so stop fucking talking and walk. ”

Carmen takes in a shaky breath, and Sheena feels a tiny bit of her weight lift off of her side. Carmen’s shambling steps speed up, just slightly. Not enough, Sheena’s mind says. She stays silent.

Somewhere, down the hill, a door slams and someone screams loudly enough for them to hear it. Carmen stiffens and lifts her head, eyes locking with Sheena’s. Their countdown has just started, and they are not close enough to the helicopter to make it in time. 

“Up here!”

Maelstrom’s head turns, and his guard strides in front of him as a figure comes racing down the hill, from the direction of the helicopter pads.

Tigress.

“Professor Maelstrom, Sandiego’s fucking loose, bring the guard–”

“Take me to her.”

Maelstrom feels the corners of his mouth turn up as he runs after Tigress and the guard. Sandiego must have been concussed harder than they had originally projected. To attempt an escape with the island crawling with loyal operatives was an exercise in futility. Punishing her for it would be fun, at least.

“There!” Tigress points with a sneer. The figure turns, and the blood-red sunset reflecting off of her panicked eyes. She tries to run and stumbles, crashing to the ground.

Maelstrom walks to her and enjoys, for a moment, the sound of her wheezing as she tries to crawl.

“Black Sheep.” He tuts. Her chest heaves, and he watches with satisfaction as her shoulders tighten and she stills. Her body slumps. “What did you think this stunt would accomplish, hm?”

“Please. Please let me go home,” she whispers.

“Black Sheep, my dear, you are home.” He circles her and lifts her chin with his boot. She sees him smirk at her before he lets her head drop back to the ground heavily. “We just need to… compel you to realize it. Guard!”

Maelstrom waits for the heavy stomp of his guard’s boots. When they don’t come, he looks over. The guard is lying still, Tigress crouched over him. Something in him runs colder than it usually does. When she looks up, her eyes reflect the sun’s red.

“Tigress,” Carmen says.

“What?” Maelstrom breathes. Tigress remains still, eyes fixed on him. He backs up a step.

“You wanted a name. Here it is.” She says. “Tigress.”

Maelstrom hears the shck of Tigress’s claws coming out and has the good sense to try and run.

Sheena lifts Carmen from the ground with shaking hands which are leaving red prints wherever they land. Both women try to ignore the animal wails of the man Sheena has left to die in the grass.

“You promised you wouldn’t kill him.” Carmen pants.

“I didn’t.”

“That’s- you-”

“Are you seriously fucking arguing with me on this? Now? ”

They make it to the helicopter. The sun dips below the ocean as Carmen tries to remember what Zack had told her about flying helicopters. She hadn’t quite thought she would need it outside of playing Rogue Vendetta: Chopper Mania with him on one or two quiet nights.

Sheena gets blood on all the buttons. They manage, somehow, to lift off anyway.

“We made it.” Sheena breathes. “We made it! ”

She waits.

“Carmen?”

When she looks, the thief has slumped forward against her harness, her head lolling with every shake of the chopper. The color has drained from her face.

“Fuck.”

Chapter Text

Carmen thinks she first met Death in Argentina.

In another million universes, she had died the night her father had been shot. Another operative had been sent, and had killed her as they should have. Shadow-san had set fire to the property without checking, and she had been burned alive, leaving Interpol to find a bit of charred flesh. The Faculty had decided raising her was too much of a risk and tossed her into the Atlantic.

He left her for a long while after that fateful night that VILE had taken her in. The island was her home. She never felt any pain worse than a scraped knee, and no fear stronger than a rebuke from Cleo for being unladylike.

Once she left the illusion of paradise behind, the red hat and coat carried Death in the weaving of their fabric. The moment she donned them, Death followed her like a shadow.

They had become well acquainted.

His fingers pressed on her neck, trying to snap it; they spread through her body, making her muscles seize and her skin burn with the shock. They were cold, and drew frozen breath from her lips in a way that was almost gentle. Other times they were harsh, and balled into fists, and let no breathe enter or exit at all. 

Carmen thought that she and Death could someday be friends. Someday after she had done her duty and vanquished VILE, she could willingly take the rest he offered.

It wasn’t supposed to be now. She was supposed to win the game first. She was supposed to vanquish the villain and return triumphant to her family, and maybe learn to cook, and get through that list of movies they had been adding to since she and Player had met. It had grown so much since Zack and Ivy and Shadowsan had pitched in. She was supposed to travel to every country in the world that she could manage, and try all those new foods they had always been too busy to stop for. She was supposed to learn to draw, and take those college classes she wanted to take, and maybe get a tattoo, and watch her scars fade.

The night VILE had caught up with her, she felt Death rest a hand on her shoulder.

A trap worked too well. An overeager new operative with a crackle rod had cracked her across the back of the head. Dizzy, she hadn’t seen the Cleaners approach until her knees had been kicked out from underneath her, a syringe emptied into her neck.

She had woken up and fought like a lion, forgetting the whip.

Death’s hand got tighter on her skin.

But she wasn’t supposed to die now. Not like this. Not when Sheena had already pried Death’s fingers away, and taken their power in her own hands. She was not supposed to die at the last moment, when Sheena had already killed two so that she could live.

And yet, as she feels the helicopter rise from the island, she can’t keep herself awake any longer. Familiar skeletal fingers hold her head and beckon her to rest.

She hopes Sheena will carry on her fight.

“Get the fuck away from her!”

Carmen hadn’t thought that would be what being dead would sound like.

Someone hisses. Like, really hisses. Maybe a demon, if that particular religious theory turns out to be right.

“I saved her life , bitch! Don’t– don’t touch her– she’s barely hanging on as it is–”

“Whose fucking fault is that?”

“You think I did this to her? I got her off that fucking island–”

“Oh, excuse me if I don’t believe you, operative. Your turn up with her, foot on Death’s doorstep, your boss’s fucking logo branded onto her skin–”

This voice breaks suddenly, and starts gasping in a way Carmen recognizes as crying. The horrible, uncontrolled kind that can’t be any more raw. Maybe she didn’t do enough to stop VILE and her punishment is hearing those she loves in pain. After all, she recognizes that she loves the people speaking, and they both sound like their hearts have ripped in half.

“Zack, look out!”

That thought hits her like a truck, and she takes in a breath. It makes her body remember that she is supposed to be dying, and the agony makes her slip into the dark again.

Carmen wakes up to someone stabbing her.

That is what it feels like, anyway. The pain is enough to drag her from death, and she screams. Brunt is back, and I am being tortured again, she thinks, and accepts the reality so that she can figure out how best to make it through.

“Boss! Fuck, why did she wake up on the last thing? I know, I know, Carm, it’s okay, I know it hurts. Shit – we have to set this bone, Carm– can she hear me? At least she’s awake–”

The voice is one she has heard a million times, digging shrapnel out of her leg or bandaging a wound, comforting her as she pretends she is immune to pain. That is confusing, seeing as she has died and is clearly being tortured all over again. She must be. The pain is blinding and everywhere.

“Fedora, calm down–”

Hands– well-manicured, soft with long nails– find her shoulders and press her firmly to the surface (cushioned with fabric, warm?) she is lying on. Death’s fingers have changed since they last held her.

“ Fedora, seriously?” 

“Ives, not now– just–” 

The first voice growls. More hands find her arm again, and the stabbing returns as her bones grind against each other, settling. Carmen groans from the pit of her stomach, an animal wail. 

Her eyes flutter open for a moment, and she glimpses three sets of blue eyes before her brain decides she has had enough. Life drains out of her body again.

Something cool presses against her lips.

Water.

Some of the pain has diminished a little. Her eyes open, and a freckled face smiles at her as it tips that miracle liquid into her mouth and makes sure she swallows it.

“Zack. Tigress,” The face says softly.

Two more heads briefly enter her field of vision, before the blonde one spirals away and apparently slaps a wall, from the sound of it.

“Oh, thank fuck. I thought I’d done all of that for you to go and die.”

Carmen is starting to suspect she has not, in fact, died.

“Where am I?” Carmen tries to say. The words are more of a groan.

Ivy sets the water bottle down, and Zack fidgets nearby, wiping tears away before they land on her.

“We’re in Morocco, Carm,” Ivy says slowly. “We couldn’t take you to a real hospital because the streets are crawling with VILE, so we’re in SH-SFE01.”

The letters and numbers take a moment to register. Safe house. The first one they had ever established, just in case of an escape from VILE just like this one. Packed with enough medical supplies to kill a horse and then resurrect it again. Its three letter code was SFE, a silly suggestion from Player based off of “selfie,” after he had found the picture of little Black Sheep beaming with the city’s skyline behind her.

Player. The signal blockers here would make it difficult for him to make contact.

“Casablanca.”

“Yes.”

Ivy. Zack. Sheena. Casablanca.

Carmen tries to will her brain to work again, but the pieces refuse to slot in under the haze of pain and, now that she thought about it, medication. Hadn’t she been concussed, too, maybe…? 

The stabbing pain is no longer present. She feels the stick of medical tape and gauze as she casts her focus down the length of her body. Broken nose feels like it has been set. Her head still aches, but dully. The bruising around her neck is a distant memory compared to before. Her arm seems to have been stabilized– she doesn’t think she can raise her head to see how, exactly– and set. The mangled fingers are immobilized, and the agony is muffled. The brand’s fire is slightly cooled. Still hurts to breathe. 

“You should get some new henchmen, Black Sheep. They almost let you die.” Sheena’s voice chimes in, and Zack and Ivy whirl.

“Excuse us for not exactly trusting that you could perform surgery, Tigress,” Ivy snaps.

“You can?” Carmen murmurs. 

“I’m a med school dropout.” Sheena says, like that explains it. “We all knew you were bleeding internally, and there wasn’t a doctor here to patch you up. They nearly let you bleed out rather than just let me–”

“We don’t usually let VILE operatives perform major surgery on our boss, so sorry for not exactly feeling comfortable–”

Sheena cuts Ivy off. “You had some abdominal shit going on. Luckily, they are smart enough to have figured out that if they didn’t let me try, you’d die either way. Voila, ” Sheena smirks, but her eyes crease in a way that says something else. Her eyes search Carmen’s with something akin to hunger. “I saved your life. Again. No thanks to the Beantowners. You’re welcome.”

Seeing Zack barely flinch at that nickname is almost more scary than having accepted death.

“Sheena–” Carmen’s breath hitches unexpectedly, and her good hand finds the lump of bandage where Tigress must have opened her flesh. Her stomach turns.

She wasn’t on VILE Island, and she had lived. She had escaped Death again.

Sheena had sent two into his hands instead, and it had been enough to make him let go.

“Boss?” Zack says softly. His hand finds her bruised cheek, and he wipes a tear away. Then another. “It’s okay.”

Carmen is going to be sick.

The crying strains her stitches, so someone sedates her.

She has no idea what time it is when she drifts back into consciousness again. She hadn’t known what time it was when she’d fallen asleep, either. So.

“You’re sure?’

Water runs, across the room somewhere, and then shuts off again.

“They couldn’t have saved him,” Sheena says. “That sunset was his last.”

Someone whistles. “Can’t say I’m sorry. That’ll mean VILE isn’t happy, though.”

Sheena snorts. “You think? Carmen gone, Maelstrom dead, and me at fault for both and decidedly not dead about it. Plus his guard.”

“Guess we lay low for a while,” Zack says.

“You got a base?” Sheena asks, then answers herself, “You must. We didn’t see you for months before Sandiego turned up in Botswana.”

Carmen senses the air chill. She does recall Tigress slamming her against a chain-link.

Carmen tries to raise herself to her elbows, but it sends a bolt of pain through her and she groans. Instantly, three stand beside her.

“Carm,” Zack smiles when she looks at him with clear eyes. “How do you feel?”

“ Così-così, ” she says, because she feels only slightly better than “dying” but doesn’t want to admit it. The medications keeping her sedated and staving off the pain have clearly worn off. She clears her throat and hates the way she already wants to go back to sleep, but the crawl underneath her skin prevents it for the moment. “When are we out of here?”

“Hold your horses. Shadow-san is nearby, but he says with the amount of operatives around we’re going to have to wait until you’re mobile. He hasn’t even felt safe enough to get here.”

“I’m mobile,” Carmen lies. She swings her legs over the edge of the cot and is on her feet before anyone can stop her.

The pain is instantly nauseating. Sheena steps forward and catches her at the waist right before she blacks out, leaning in and tilting her face up. Carmen cannot pinpoint the cause of her stomach flipping.

“Sandiego,” Sheena says as soon as she’s sure Carmen is looking. “You are a fucking idiot. Sit down.”

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Ivy snaps. She takes some of Carmen’s weight, and the two of them firmly set Carmen back onto the cot. “But… the cat’s right.”

“I’m fine,” Carmen says again. She knows she isn’t, but the itch to flee is rapidly growing stronger than the need to rest and recover. “I’ve had worse. But if the city is crawling with operatives like you say it is, the four of us need to–” Carmen swallows, the excessive talking already exhausting her. “It’s too close. It’s too dangerous. I can’t– we need to get out of here.”

“Carm.” Zack kneels and looks at her, brow furrowed. “They tortured you. You need more than a couple days.”

“I know they tortured me.” The snarl rises into her voice unbidden. She regrets it as Zack’s eyes widen, and looks instead at Sheena. “That’s why we need to go. This– being here, this close, right now–” She falters and leans back gingerly. “It feels like there’s a knife at my throat every second that I’m awake.”

“Yeah, when you’re awake.” Sheena rolls her eyes. “You think I fucking like this either? Your team and I do not get along. I am technically still their prisoner, if a couple days and a successful surgery mean nothing. I want to get out of here as soon as possible. And I am telling you to lay the fuck back down and rest. Trying to move now would get us all re-captured or killed, and there will be no one to hold you this time.”

The brand, white hot, pressing into her skin. Sheena, holding her still to be marked and yet still holding her. Biting Sheena’s hand as hard as she can so that she doesn’t scream.

She shoves the thought into a dark corner of her mind and lays back down, resigned to the cot.

“You took Sheena prisoner?”

Ivy scoffs. “Carm, when we found you, she was dragging your lifeless body into a back alley. You expect us to just believe any VILE operative dragging you around unconscious has good intentions after you went missing for a week? We thought you were dead. For all we knew she coulda done all that to you. ”

“But you trusted her in the end.”

Zack and Ivy look at her, a similar expression on each of their faces. Something conflicted.

“Some operative got there and found us all there. She defended you.” Zack said. “We just…I mean, just in case she was playing some long-con, we weren’t gonna let her leave. And we took all the weapons and stuff. But… she told us what happened. And we figured– the couple times you were lucid you didn’t freak out, so she must be alright.”

“You aren’t, uh, technically still a prisoner.” Ivy mutters. “For the record.”

“Great,” Sheena scoffs. “I’ll leave if I start feeling suicidal. Which, considering the company, I may.”

“Oh, please. Carm, you want something to eat?”

With the question, Carmen suddenly becomes aware of how hungry she is and nods.

Ivy nods back. “You must be starving. Soup or beans? Or, like, jerky, but…”

“Soup, please.”

“‘Kay.” She stands, and Zack follows her. Sheena stays crouched by her side. As soon as the two have made distance, the look on her face drops, and Carmen meets another pair of tired eyes.

“You didn’t leave,” Carmen says.

“You nearly did.” Sheena looks down at the concrete.

“Well,” Carmen says. “I didn’t. Not this time. Thanks to you.”

Sheena smiles a half smile for a second, before it drops.

“What did you do with the helicopter?” Carmen asks. Sheena blinks, and then laughs for real.

“The Mosque Hassan-II has a beautiful new modern art installation in the ocean beside it, so I hear.”

Carmen barks a laugh, but it hurts so badly that she finds Sheena holding her good hand while she waits for it to subside enough to be coherent again.

Her good hand.

She grits her teeth and looks over at the blobby, bandaged lump that her right hand used to be. Sheena follows her gaze.

“It’ll heal,” Sheena murmurs.

“No.” Carmen laughs humorlessly. “I don’t think so.”

“What, you’re going to let what Coach did take you out of the game?”

“I never said that,” Carmen growls. “You would have to kill me to get me to quit. But you were watching, weren’t you? You saw her shatter every finger. This hand won’t be the same again.”

“What do you mean, she was watching?”

Ivy has returned, bowl of chicken noodle in hand, pale. Zack trails behind her, glancing between Carmen’s mangled hand and her face.

Sheena shifts back onto her heels and looks away. “I…”

“She wasn’t there for anything but the start.” Carmen forces her tone to be flat. “But when– after she helped me the first time, they wanted a name. And you saw that from a distance.”

Sheena’s face scrunches. “I couldn’t have stopped them.”

“I know.”

Ivy looks like she wants to say something, but just helps Carmen start eating the soup. Finally, she settles on saying, “You got her out. That’s all that matters now.”

Mangled bodies appear behind Carmen’s eyelids when she blinks. She isn’t sure she agrees.

The next time Carmen falls asleep, she dreams a dream that haunts every night for the next week.

“Black Sheep, my dear, you are home.” Maelstrom drops her head to the dirt, and her blood runs cold. He steps on her hand, and each finger shatters again. “We just need to compel you to realize it.”

Someone grabs her wrists. When she turns, pulled to her feet, Tigress is holding her, giving a pitying smirk. Her claws snake in an almost loving embrace around Carmen– one holds her stomach, the other drapes over her shoulder and rests by her heart.

“Tigress,” Maelstrom nods.

Her claws suddenly dig deep into Carmen’s flesh, and pull her insides out through her skin. Carmen struggles to hold onto both her heart and her intestines, slick with blood. Her right hand isn’t strong enough to hold onto her heart, and it falls to the floor.

Tigress picks it up and squeezes it.

The scene shifts. She holds Maelstrom’s intestines instead of her own. Her fingers are bloody, and she has never felt happier. When she looks up, the rest of the Faculty smile at her and beckon her towards his empty chair.

The branded V burns.

When she goes to sit, the chair squishes beneath her weight. She looks down as a thousand mangled bodies contort to make her throne. Tigress perches on the arm of it and grins.

“I made it for you,” she says. “What do you think?”

Death’s hand squeezes her arm, and he whispers that it should have been her.

Chapter Text

It is another agonizing week of closed curtains and hushed voices before Carmen is well enough to move. It should have been months— but they aren't home. They are in Casablanca, and they don't have that kind of time.

So Carmen gets reacquainted with pretending she can feel no pain.

They all stick out like sore thumbs in the streets, so the night of their escape, the team splits up. Shadow-san awaits with a boat; Zack and Ivy have gone to scout ahead.

We only have to make it to the water.

And so, with every cell begging her to stop, rest, sleep, heal, Carmen creeps after Sheena, cloaked in the night.

The city is still crawling with operatives. Evidently VILE thinks I can't get far in my state. Ha! Their mistake. The joke is on them. With the power of painkillers I can do anything. I could even fight a fish or something…a big one…

Maybe she took a few too many painkillers. She shakes herself. Focus. You can rest on the boat.

But despite the mantra, the unsteady laps around the safe house are proving to be wildly inadequate. More than once, only half-present due to the overdose of meds (which are doing less for the pain than she would have hoped), she stumbles and is only barely caught by Sheena.

"Sandiego," Sheena says after the third time. "Come on. Just a little further." Carmen nods, pretty sure she agreed with that…whatever she's said. The effort of moving quietly is making her vision dance with spots. Sheena, apparently satisfied, pulls ahead again to continue scouting.

You can rest on the boat.

Carmen grits her teeth. And then a hand clamps over her mouth.

"Gotcha."

She's slower to react than she would have liked. She drops, making herself dead weight (oh god— fuck, that hurt—) and lashes out wildly with her legs, scraping the street to make as much noise as she can.

Sheena— Sheena, please—

The operative grunts and hauls her to her feet. A knuckle drives into her chest, right where the brand is, and her vision flashes white. "Shut up," he whispers furiously, but its too late: Sheena turns, and Carmen sees that same murderous glint in her eye as she lunges.

The operative sees it too, and seems to suddenly think better of trying this alone. He drops Carmen and tries, fruitlessly, to get away.

Carmen barely catches her breath in time: "Don't kill him!"

Sheena pauses, claws digging into his skin, one hand at his throat already.

"If we let him go, he'll bring every operative in the city to us in five minutes," Sheena snarls.

Carmen's mouth twists. "No. I will not let you murder someone else on my behalf!"

The operative's eyes are wide and glistening with panic as he swallows against the claws at his throat. He's young. He probably just graduated.

"It's our lives or his, Carmen," Sheena says incredulously.

"Just knock him out." Carmen's breaths rattle in her chest, but she struggles to her feet. "And hide him. We'll be gone."

Sheena doesn't move. Carmen's dream— the one she's been having for a week, filled with twisted bodies and blood— fills her head, and tears fill her eyes.

"Sheena. Please."

She stares for another second before she groans. "Fine." She wraps an arm around his throat, and he struggles (weaker and weaker by the second) as she cuts off his air. "But I am not happy about it."

When he goes still, Sheena takes a moment to tie him up with a stolen piece of cord and hide him. The adrenaline quickly fades from Carmen's body. The street, mercifully empty, absorbs her whimper and goes still again. If she'd hurt before, the scuffle had made the pain double.

You can rest on the boat.

But the boat seems so far away, and her body was not forgetting the terror at thinking she was about to go back.

The burning of the V pulses on her skin. When Sheena emerges, wiping her hands on a rag, Carmen flashes her a small smile before letting herself lean into her arms.

"What? What? Did he hurt you?"

"No. Take me home. Please. I'm so tired."

Sheena's face softens for a moment, and her hand rests on Carmen's head. "Okay. We're close. Just a little more."

Sheena doesn't leave her side this time. The water sparkles gently in the moonlight as they round a corner, and Carmen nearly cries with relief as she sees the small spot of darkness that she knows is Shadow-san, Zack, and Ivy with the boat.

"Hey," Sheena whispers as they draw near. "I was just angry. That he tried to hurt you. I'm sorry."

Carmen blinks, and nods. She ignores the sort of reluctance in the apology. Pretends she is imagining it. "You're a good guy now." A smile quirks at her lips. "We have to turn your reputation around somehow."

Sheena says nothing.

Zack and Ivy run up to them as soon as they are close enough, eyes skating worriedly across the pair. "We were just about to go out looking! What took you?" Zack says.

"Small ambush," Carmen mutters. "All good."

"All— okay, you know what, never mind. As long as you're fine. Come on. Shadow-san is waiting." Ivy says, and leads them towards the boat.

Carmen barely takes it in— small, paint chipped, inconspicuous as they come— before someone takes her into their arms.

Shadow-san pulls back after a moment and looks her over. She can't tell whether it's just the moonlight or if his eyes are shiny with tears, but the sight of him makes the pain momentarily fade.

"Carmen," he breathes.

"Hi," Carmen's smile wobbles at the familiar touch, and she finds herself slumping into his body. He scoops her up carefully and carries her into the boat like she's little again.

He lays her down into a small nest of towels and nods before turning to offer a hand to the other three. Carmen watches a look pass between him and Sheena before the moment passes and she sits down, slumping so that her head is below the boat's edge. Zack and Ivy follow suit.

Shadow-san starts the motor, and the boat quietly chugs out into the water. Just a little while before they get to where Carmen knows a tiny plane and a well-paid pilot are waiting, and then they can get home.

With the stars shining down on their escape, one hand unknowingly creeping to squeeze Sheena's, the exhaustion crashes down on her, and she sleeps.

Sheena becomes a familiar part of Team Red. She shuttles food from Zack's lively kitchen to wherever Carmen has insisted on "bed-resting" that day (usually the couch, because she insists she feels too fidgety alone in her room). She meets Player, who gets her new documents and hides the family she pretended not to have.

She is there while Carmen learns to be herself again. She fidgets, and paces, and stares out the window. She sometimes disappears at night and comes back smelling like the sea, and speaks to no one. But when Carmen needs a hand, or a painkiller, she makes it her mission to be there.

And then Carmen is on her feet again, learning to be proficient with her left hand nearly as well as she had been with the right. She is smiling again— more every day— and getting back into the rhythm with her team. She calls Shadow-san while he is traveling on capers, plays games with Zack, learns a new recipe.

Needs Sheena less and less.

Carmen gets up one morning and finds that, for the first time, Sheena isn't waiting— she is leaving a piece of paper, and slinking away before Carmen can say anything.

The paper is a letter.

Carmen,

I can't stay here.

I don't think I can ever belong. If you'll forgive the dumb phrase, I'm a cat declawed here. I'll never regret escaping with you, but you can't train my nature out of me. You can tell me over and over again not to scratch, but I will.

Every time, I will.

I am not gentle. And if you're going to keep being you— which you will, always— then I have to keep being me. I need to make VILE pay for it all in a way that you never could. I need to get Jean Paul and Antonio out of there before it's too late.

Maybe I'll see you out there. I'm sorry. I

Sheena

Carmen barely finishes skimming the note before she launches herself out of bed. Something strains in a way it isn't supposed to, but she ignores it and throws the front door open.

Sheena spins around, nearly to a car, and freezes. Carmen draws near in the dim almost-light of morning, and Sheena meets eyes hard with fury.

"A note?" Carmen growls. "You were going to leave a note? You can't do what we did and then leave with a damn note."

"I didn't want to hurt you," Sheena's heel scrapes the ground as she looks away sheepishly. "Carmen, I- I can't-"

"Sheena, after everything?" Carmen whispers. "You're just going back to— what— solving your problems with violence again—"

"I can't do things like you, Carmen! I'm not like you! You only finished recovering from this and you're already talking about when you can get back in the field! I mean— you won't even give those operatives more than a kick in the ass, and they want to kill you. I don't even get—"

"I'm sorry that lives mean something to me, Tigress. And I'm sorry that you apparently don't care—"

"I do care! That's the whole reason, Carmen! That's everything!" Sheena explodes. "I need to go make the Faculty pay because they hurt you. It is all for you. It is because I care. I can't fucking live knowing that you're just going to wait for your peacemongering shit to work out and think everyone will just get their just-fucking-desserts in prison!"

"Stealing lives is not the answ—"

"Oh, cut that shit out. Do you know what happens if you just continue on with your lovely little Robin Hood plan? People die. The Faculty take it out on Jean Paul, and Antonio, and that freak fucking Mime, because eventually they are going to start thinking that if you went sour and I went sour, who's next from that class? Crackle already disappeared, and he was the closest with you out of everyone! Who knows—"

"He's fine."

Sheena pauses, and then throws her hands up. "Alright, so you know. How long do you think it will be before they figure out you've been apparently chatting it up with him and snipe him too? They just— they need to be stopped, Carmen, permanently."

Sheena waits, breathing hard, but Carmen stays silent. She stares, eyes chips of steel, and then sighs and turns away, nose wrinkled.

"I really can't convince you, can I?"

"No."

"Then," Carmen says, "at least give me a proper goodbye before you— well, give me a proper goodbye."

Sheena reaches out a hand. Carmen takes it, and then pulls her into herself. Their lips meet suddenly, messily— Sheena moans into Carmen's lips as something like hunger is finally sated in the pit of her gut.

And then she pulls away.

"I can't. I'll—" Sheena gasps for air. "I'll never leave. If you— if we—"

Carmen's eyes glisten as the sun starts to appear. "Okay," she whispers. "Knock 'em dead."

Sheena tries to smile, finds she can't, and then turns. She gets into the car.

She looks back.

Carmen is already gone.