You Won't Be So Far Away (Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego, Halloween)
Title: You Won't Be So Far Away
Author: Lucky_Ladybug/insaneladybug
Claim: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego? (General Series)
Table: Do-It-Yourself
Prompt: Halloween
Rating: T/PG-13
Summary: Elliott returns to ACME Crimenet with no memory of where he was before ... or of why he's completely intangible.
Warnings: Dark and angsty situations for a generally-lighthearted show.
Notes: Fictional Rockapella only. I will not write Real Person fic.
Will be cross-posted to ladybug_tales
Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
You Won't Be So Far Away
By Lucky_Ladybug
Notes: The characters are not mine and the story is! The idea of when it's set is from the prompt Halloween at 10 Hurt Comfort. It was originally an RP idea of mine, which I then enacted with Crystal Rose. The basic outline of the plot up to the scene at the docks is taken from that RP, though this fic version is quite different in some ways. And the final couple of scenes are entirely from my own mind, except for the idea of Scott's monologue following the battle. That is also based on one of Crystal Rose's ideas. Many thanks to her and to Kaze for plot help! And please remember, fictional TV show Rockapella only! I do not write Real Person stories!
It was a cold autumn night, the kind with a large, round, yellow-tinted full moon that seems to automatically make one think of Halloween no matter what time of year it is.
But as luck would have it, this night was Halloween. The trick-or-treaters had long since returned to their homes, where the little ghouls and goblins had proceeded to consume far more of the night's winnings than they really should have done. Halloween pranksters were still afoot, leaving mischief for homeowners and cemetery caretakers to discover in the morning. Still others celebrated by introducing themselves to spirits of another sort at bars and clubs. All of this was quite typical for the holiday.
Clouds were slowly passing back and forth in front of the moon, plunging the New York streets into even more darkness. Out around the warehouses, it was rare to see more than one or two streetlamps per block, as opposed to the bustling lights of downtown Manhattan. In the heart of town, the appearing and disappearing moon was not noticed much.
A short, curly-haired brunet was looking up at it, however---as if it could give him the answers he was seeking. But of course he knew it could not. He sighed, pushing back the dark fedora hat on his head.
This was not typical for the holiday---or any other day, for that matter.
Elliott was not sure how long he had been wandering the streets, trying to get home. He could not even clearly remember how he had gotten outside . . . wherever he had been. It was disturbing, that he seemed to be having a form of amnesia where the past hour was concerned. Suddenly he had been standing outside a billboard company at the edge of the warehouse district, as if he had been asleep or unconscious and was just waking up. No one had been around to explain what had happened, and he was missing his comb phone as well as everything else he had been carrying. Maybe he had been overpowered and mugged by someone from V.I.L.E., but he did not feel as though he was injured. He felt just fine. Hopefully someone at ACME would be able to figure out what was going on.
What was even more disturbing was how many times cars had nearly run him down since he had begun his journey back to ACME Crimenet. Of course, there were crazy drivers in New York, but he had never had this much trouble before.
Now he leaped out of the way, narrowly missing yet another rampaging automobile. "Hey!" he yelled from the curb. "Why don't you watch where you're going?!"
As had been the norm that night, the driver paid him no heed. Elliott growled, hurrying down the sidewalk. He had not realized that Halloween night was a time when the especially wild drivers came out of the woodwork.
At least he was almost home. Here was the familiar alley now. In relief he hurried down the path and up the steps. Mrs. Pumpkinclanger was either not at home or in bed, since she did not lean out of her window to scold him for coming back so late. But that was just as well; he did not feel like dealing with her right now. He reached for the doorknob.
But instead of grasping it, his hand passed through. He stared, his heart hammering in his . . .
Wait. . . .
His heart was not hammering anywhere. It was only fully dawning now that he could not feel it. He had not felt it all through his wild marathon across town. He had been driven by such an urgent need to get back home that he had not stopped to even think about something that he had taken for granted. A hand flew to his chest. Nothing. And there was the matter of his hand going through the doorknob. . . . And the cars almost running him down. . . .
A scream of alarm tore from his lips. He ran at the door, phasing through and into Greg's office. Greg was sitting at his desk, going over paperwork and muttering about the Chief having him stay overtime to get it all done tonight. He ran a hand through his light-brown hair, a few stray locks slipping out of place and falling on his forehead. He did not look up.
Elliott ran over, slamming his hands on the desk without thinking. They plunged through, sending him flying forward and right into Greg. The brunet gave a cry of both shock and disbelief as he passed through the desk, Greg, and the chair before managing to steady his wild fall by thrusting out his arms to balance himself. Then he whirled around, his dark curls bouncing with the motion. Greg had looked up, confused, but he did not look like he had seen what had just happened.
"Greg!" Elliott exclaimed, running over to the detective's side. "Greg, I'm right here! You can see me, can't you?! And hear me?! I just fell right through you! You can't tell me you didn't feel that!"
Greg shivered, pulling his dark blue suit jacket closer around him. "I thought we got the stupid heater fixed," he complained to himself.
Elliott shook his head, horror in his eyes as he backed up against the filing cabinet. But he realized what he was doing before he could phase through it too. He stiffened, moving away from it. Then he forlornly raised his gaze to the old photograph of Agnes Acme hanging above the green drawers. The calm and dignified woman continued to stare ahead, unaware of the desperate eyes watching her. If there was ever a time he needed her guidance, it was now. But maybe even she would not know what to do about this.
He turned and ran through the office, going past the janitors who never looked up as he tore into the corridor where the agents' rooms were located. Going up the steps to the second floor, he ran to Scott's room and through the closed door. The room was dark, save for the dim glow of the lamp on the nightstand. Scott was laying on his bed, looking either asleep or close to it.
Elliott ran over to the side of the bed. "Scott!" he cried. "Scott, wake up! You have to hear me. Come on, tell me you can hear me! Tell me you can see me!" He leaned over, as if to grip the edge of the mattress, but then stopped himself. If his heart had been beating, it would have surely been thumping loud enough for Scott to hear. The incident with Greg had greatly shaken him. Scott was his best friend; would even he not be able to see or hear Elliott?
But Scott stirred, as if in response to Elliott's voice. He rolled over onto his side, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he tried to focus on the other. ". . . El?" he mumbled, still half-asleep. "What's wrong?"
Relief flooded Elliott's soul. Scott could both see and hear him. He did wonder why Greg had not been able to, but he would worry about that somewhere down the line.
"Scott, look at me!" he said, wildly gesturing at himself.
Fully beginning to process how the beam from the nightlight was affecting his friend, the blond's eyes snapped open all the way as he flew upright in bed. "Elliott!" he gasped, the color draining from his face. "W-what happened to you?!"
"I don't know!" Elliott exclaimed. "I . . . I was on assignment, I remember that much, but . . . I randomly woke up standing in the parking lot of a billboard company, with no one around. So I started trying to get back here, while all these cars kept nearly running me down. And . . ." He slumped back. "When I got here, Greg couldn't see me or hear me or anything, even though I fell right through him and the desk. . . ."
"Fell through . . . ?" Swallowing hard, Scott held out his hand, reaching for the brunet. Elliott extended his hand as well, desperate to be able to grab onto Scott's. He could not be completely intangible. He could not be . . . because then he would have to really stop to think about why it was happening and what it would mean.
Scott stared, alarmed as Elliott's hand phased through his own. They jerked their hands back at the same time, raising their eyes to meet each other in horror.
"It was like a . . . a cold energy just passed through my hand," Scott whispered. "El, you're . . ."
"I'm not!" Elliott screamed, not wanting to hear his fears spoken. "I swear I'm not! I just . . . don't remember what happened. . . ."
Scott swung his legs to the floor, then pushed himself off the bed. "I remember the Chief was going to send you somewhere," he said, "but I don't know where or why. You had to leave before you got the chance to tell us.
"Let's get the others and go ask Greg!" he exclaimed.
Elliott gave a numb nod, following Scott to the door. Would Sean and Barry be able to see and hear him too? He had known Sean the longest, having met him when Sean had moved to Manhattan from the Bronx when he had been ten. Barry had joined them a couple of years later, and Scott a couple of years after that---but they had closely bonded with each newcomer, becoming a surrogate family. Greg had been part of their family, too---though he had always seemed somewhat detached from the rest of them. Being the Special Agent in Charge of Training New Recruits had widened the gap between them and him---though they tried to find time during each case to tease him and remind him of the good times they had experienced together.
Now Scott hurried into the hall, Elliott hurrying right alongside. Crossing to Sean's room next door, Scott gave several frantic bangs. "Sean!" he yelled. "Open up!"
Sean was awake, looking over the day's reports for ACME Crimenet, when he heard the pounding. Stunned, he leaped up, the papers falling to the end table next to the chair. "Scott, what are you doing?" he exclaimed. "You're going to wake the dead!"
He hauled open the door, half-expecting Scott to fall in a la the Dying Informant. He was already steeling himself to catch his friend when he saw the much-different sight. "What happened?!" he gasped, stiffening in shock. "Elliott, you're . . ." He reached out, trying to grab the shorter man's shoulders. Both he and Elliott froze at the effort. Sean could only stare. "Did you get in the way of ACME Mysticnet's annual astral projection get-together?!" It was the only possibility he could think of at the moment.
"No!" Elliott retorted. "I was on an assignment. But I don't remember where I was or how this happened!"
Sean swallowed hard. "If we find out where you were, maybe we'll find out what happened to you," he said. But would there be anything they could even do? For Elliott to turn up here like this, it really seemed that there could only be one explanation. Sean was horrified. From Scott's expression, he was thinking the same thing---and trying not to.
Just down the hall, Barry's door opened. "What's going on?" he frowned. As he stepped out and approached his friends, he caught sight of Elliott. His usual deadpan faltered.
"Elliott . . ." he breathed.
"We have to see if Greg knows where Elliott went on assignment!" Scott exclaimed before Barry could continue his train of thought.
Now Barry swallowed hard. ". . . You don't remember?" he said to Elliott, trying not to stare at the brunet's translucent condition.
"No," Elliott said, feeling helpless as they turned to head for the stairs. "I just . . . woke up out by some billboard company near the warehouse district and came back here." He looked at his friends, the sinking feeling increasing. "You guys . . . you all think I'm . . ." He could tell from their expressions. And he could not bear it.
"We don't know!" Scott exclaimed.
"It's just that . . ." Sean ran his tongue over his lips. "El . . . when you're like this . . . that doesn't happen every day, and . . ."
"I'm not dead!" Elliott screamed. His eyes widened as he realized he had spoken the forbidden word. Suddenly growing quiet, he turned away from them as he forlornly went down the stairs.
Scott's heart twisted. "El . . ." For a moment he reached for his friend, not thinking of what a futile action it was.
Elliott did not turn back, even when Scott's hand phased through him.
Barry watched him with narrowed eyes as they followed him down the steps. Even . . . like this, he was still Elliott. He had not changed. If he actually was . . . a ghost, would he linger in this form from now on? Or would he eventually be called away to whatever afterlife was prepared for him?
And where was his . . . his body? Why didn't he realize he was dead, if indeed that was the case?
Now they were passing across the map on the ground floor. Scott swallowed hard. Only a few lights were on at the moment, mostly for the janitors. When the families and friends of the detectives-in-training were here to observe the cases, they usually joined in the celebrations when the cases were solved. One time Scott had jokingly decided to dance with Elliott on the map. He was seeing them now in his mind's eye---him laughing as he tried to teach Elliott a waltz, Elliott so awkward as he tried to follow Scott's lead, stumbling over Scott's feet, and then at last giving up. . . .
Scott gave a weak smile. Poor two-left-feet Elliott.
He looked away.
Greg was still in his office when they arrived. He looked up in surprise, blinking to see them all coming in.
"Hey, fellas," he said. "What's up?" He frowned. "Are you worried about Elliott?" He could see from their expressions that something was bothering them.
Elliott shrank back. "He still can't see me," he said to no one in particular.
Scott bit his lip. "Do you know where Elliott went?" he asked Greg, who shook his head.
"I don't," he said. "The Chief's the only one who knows."
"And she's already gone home!" Sean said. "Maybe it would say in her files." He looked to the green door.
"Oh come on, guys." Greg frowned. "You can't just go pawing through the Chief's files. Sometimes these assignments take a while. You know that."
"But we don't have a while!" Scott burst out.
Greg regarded him in confusion. "You act like you know something about Elliott," he said.
"We do!" Scott said, but then trailed off. How would he explain what they knew without Greg thinking they were just nuts? Frantically he racked his mind for an idea.
"Hey," Greg said then, looking annoyed, "the heat's not working again." He pulled his jacket closer. "It was doing this a few minutes ago. This cold breeze came right at me."
"That was me!" Elliott cried, desperate to be heard.
Greg frowned, looking disturbed. ". . . Okay," he said then. "I think you guys are getting to me. I thought I heard Elliott just now."
Elliott stared at him, struck speechless. Sean hastened to explain.
"You did hear Elliott!" he declared. "He's here!"
"Then how come I can't see him?" Greg objected. "And why were you asking about his assignment if he's already here?"
Recovering from the shock, Elliott moved closer to him. "Can you feel this?" he said, passing his hand through Greg's shoulder.
Greg's eyes widened. He reached up, clapping a hand over the spot. "Hey!" he exclaimed. "What was that?! And what's the deal with me hearing Elliott? Is this some kind of a prank?" He glared at Sean. "It's not funny."
"It's not a prank!" Scott retorted. "That's El you're feeling."
"That's what we've been trying to tell you!" Sean said. "Elliott's here . . . but he's not . . . well, solid. . . ."
"I'm . . ." Elliott's shoulders slumped. "I'm a ghost. . . ."
The color began to drain from Greg's face. "Elliott . . ." He looked in the general direction of the voice. The anguish and sorrow he was hearing could not be faked.
"We need to know where he went on his assignment so we can find out what happened to him," Barry spoke.
"And i- . . . how to fix it," Sean added. There could not be any "ifs." Elliott had to still be able to be saved! From his tone of voice, he was already beginning to give up hope. His friends could not give up as well.
Greg nodded, getting up from his desk. "Let's go paw through the Chief's files," he said, crossing the room and taking out his spare key. Inserting it into the lock, he turned it and opened the green door. He hurried inside, flipping on the lights as the others followed.
Sean hauled open the top filing cabinet drawer, thumbing through the folders until he found the one he wanted---Current Assignments. He pulled it out as the others gathered around him.
"This is today's roster," he said, looking it over. "Here you are, Elliott. . . . You were out at Reagan Advertising, trying to stop RoboCrook from stealing the power to the electronic billboards."
Elliott frowned. "Well, that's just great," he said. "That was where I . . . woke up, but I didn't see any bodies laying around."
"Let's go there and look around!" Scott said. "Maybe we'll find you!"
Greg watched them, uncomfortable. Now it looked like he could see a vague silhouette standing by Scott. He shook his head, rapidly blinking, but it was still there. Elliott was becoming visible to him. Why? Was that a good sign . . . or bad? Or did it not have any specific purpose?
"Are you coming?" Barry asked, looking to Greg as they hurried for the door.
Greg hesitated. ". . . Maybe I should stay here and see if I can get in touch with some of our other agents," he said. "Someone could've seen RoboCrook."
"Good idea!" Scott said. "Okay, we'll keep in touch."
They dashed out the door. Greg followed, pulling it shut behind him. He was still shaken by what he had seen and heard. If Elliott was really . . . gone, things would never be the same at ACME Crimenet. And the others would be heart-broken.
And he, Greg . . . how would he take it? Had he even fully processed it? He was so used to Scott as the Dying Informant always coming back that the thought of any of them dying for real was foreign to him. And Elliott . . . cheerful, ridiculous, girl-shy Elliott. . . .
He shook his head. The story about trying to contact other ACME agents was mainly a cover, even though that was something he could be doing. But the real reason he had opted not to go with them was because it was too uncomfortable for him. He did not know how to handle Elliott being a ghost. He needed to be alone for a while to think it over.
And maybe no amount of thinking about it would make it easier to process.
****
Scott had been growing increasingly anxious the closer they drew to Reagan Advertising. It was there that they would finally learn what had become of Elliott---he hoped. But at the same time he dreaded it. If Elliott's body was dead, then there was nothing to be done. Elliott would be forced to remain a spirit. And he would not likely be able to stay with them for much longer. Once he acknowledged that he was . . . not part of the mortal plane, wouldn't that mean that he would be sent away? He had stopped saying that he was not dead before they had even left ACME. And his hope had only decreased on the drive. Maybe he even knew the truth, deep down, but could not say it aloud. But his despondency was already saying it loud and clear. Scott felt like crying.
"El . . ." He turned to look at the curly-haired brunet, who had been sitting next to him on the ride. Elliott had mostly been staring out the window at nothing in particular, though every now and then he had turned to look at the others in the car. Upon hearing Scott's voice, he stiffened, turning to look at his dear friend.
"El, you can't get like this," Scott pleaded. "If you don't believe in yourself, we might not be able to do anything for you, and . . ."
Elliott gave a sad shake of his head. "The closer we get to this place, the more I know the truth," he said. "I knew it when I got back to ACME. Maybe I even knew it when those cars kept almost running me down. Let's face it, Scott, we both know I'm . . ."
"Don't say it!" Scott interrupted. "Please don't say it. . . ." His eyes clearly showed his heartbreak. "I don't want to lose you, El. . . ."
Elliott's smile was sad. "You won't," he said.
The building was finally in sight now. Two or three black-and-white police cars were visible, their blue-and-red lights flashing. Scott's heart did a champion flip-flop. Yellow Do Not Cross tape was stretched across both parking lots. An ambulance with flashing lights was visible at the far corner, the red glow reflected in all the darkened windows.
Sean parked the car nearby, then got out and made his way towards the building, his expression grim. He had to admit, things were not looking good. As he approached the yellow tape, an officer came out to meet him.
"This area is closed off," the policeman said.
Sean dug into his pocket for his detective badge. "What happened here?" he asked as he brought it out.
The officer took the badge, looking it over and then back at Sean. Clearly he was surprised that Sean was a detective. It was probably the braids.
"Two people were found inside, badly hurt," he said. "There was an anonymous call to 911 that led us here."
All of Rockapella was stunned. "Two people?" Scott repeated, coming up from behind Sean.
"Badly hurt?" Elliott echoed, even though he knew he would not be heard.
"Do you know who they were?" Sean asked, taking back his badge.
"Both employees of Reagan Advertising," the policeman said. "One of them woke up just a bit and was moaning about being attacked by a . . . walking robot." He frowned. "The security cameras have all been broken, too. And get this---somehow the entire power supply has been wiped!" He shook his head. "Something's going on here that doesn't make much sense."
"So you don't know where the robot's gone?" Scott said.
"No clue," frowned the police officer. "We're asking around to see if anyone else has seen it."
"Maybe it ran off with a car," Sean suggested.
"Right now we're not putting anything past it," the policeman sighed.
Elliott had been mulling over everything the officer had told them. Now his eyes widened. He turned to look at Scott. "I remember something!" he exclaimed.
Scott's own eyes grew wide. "What is it?!" he asked.
"I found those people!" Elliott told him. "I'm the one who called the ambulance. Then I heard RoboCrook tramping through the building and I had to hurry after him."
"Then . . . maybe you ended up here later because subconsciously you remembered and you were worried about those people!" Scott said.
"Maybe!" Elliott agreed. "And it also means I probably didn't get too far away from here, because the police and the ambulance weren't here when I found myself standing in the parking lot. So not more than a few minutes could've passed."
Scott suddenly froze, feeling the policeman staring at him. Of course he could not see Elliott. He must think Scott was nuts.
Sean tried to hurry and brush over the incident. "We'll spread out and go over the surrounding area," he volunteered. "The robot is probably a felon we've been chasing."
"A robot felon?" the policeman muttered.
"He wasn't born bad, he was built that way," Sean intoned.
"Thirty minutes ago, I would've said you were nuts," said the police officer.
"There's a bunch of warehouses around here, right?" Sean said. "Maybe he's out there." He turned to head back to the car. "Thanks for the information!"
The policeman watched the others follow after Sean. "Robot robbers . . . detectives talking to themselves . . ." He shook his head. "What's this world coming to?"
Sean hauled open the driver's door and climbed inside. The others got in as well, Elliott following Scott into the back even though he technically did not need a door right now.
"Well. . . . What do you think about this?" he said, turning the key in the ignition as he pulled on the safety belt.
"I still don't remember what happened to me," Elliott said, feeling helpless. "But I have this feeling that maybe I got waylaid by RoboCrook. . . ."
"I'm thinking the same thing," Sean said, his voice grim. Quickly he drove past the building, heading for the warehouse district nearby. The old buildings stretched ahead of them, dark and foreboding. Though some were still in use, many of them had been abandoned. Sean parked in front of one of them and got out.
"Let's split up," he suggested. "Barry, you come with me. El, you go with Scott. And we'll meet back here in fifteen minutes."
The others agreed. Elliott and Scott moved to search out the warehouse nearest to them. Sean hurried to the warehouses across the street with Barry, his braids flying as he ran.
He had been trying not to fully think about what was happening. Part of him was still insisting that this was only a terrible dream, something that would vanish come morning. Elliott was not really dead; that was also part of the nightmare. And soon he would wake up and discover that truth.
He had grown up with Elliott. It was not possible that the cheerful goof could be gone . . . just like that. . . .
"We have to hurry," he called over his shoulder. "Wherever El is, he needs help."
". . . If he isn't already beyond that." Barry's tone was grim and sobered.
Sean stiffened. "Don't say things like that!" he snapped. "Elliott needs our support."
"He'll need it even more if he can't come back," Barry said.
"You're just giving up," Sean said. "How's that going to help him at all?"
"I'm trying to think of it from all angles." Now Barry sounded sad. He was just as upset over this as the others were, but he was particularly concerned about how Sean and Scott would handle it if it could not be resolved. None of them were ready to accept the possibility that Elliott could not come back to them. And if he could not, would that eventually tear the rest of them apart?
Sean shook his head, walking to the back of the warehouse they were approaching. Deep down, he knew what Barry said was true. But he was not to the point where he could even consider it. Elliott had to still be able to be saved.
****
Scott and Elliott had been traveling around and through warehouses for what seemed ages. They rarely spoke, in case RoboCrook or someone else unfriendly was lurking about---and also because they could not come up with anything to say. Neither was in the mood to reminisce, but the memories stayed with them anyway. And thinking of the happier times in contrast to this only made it worse.
Scott would never forget the horror and anguish that enveloped him upon seeing a limp, bloodied hand hanging out from among a stack of crates. For a long moment he stared at it, disbelieving. Then his mind snapped into place again and he was running. Somehow he could sense that Elliott had remained frozen for a moment before following. Somewhere in his mind he knew that Sean and Barry were running over from the other direction, having seen the fallen crates too. The wood was digging into his hands as he clawed at the crates, throwing them aside and not caring as they splintered into uselessness. Then he dropped to his knees, as if in a daze, and slowly reached out to touch the cold body he had uncovered.
"El . . ." he whispered.
Elliott's mortal form was sprawled among the crates, mostly on his stomach but somewhat on his right side. His dark fedora had come off in the fall and was laying next to him, while his curls had started to slip over his face. Just looking at him was enough to let Scott know the truth---but reaching to feel for a pulse and finding none was still just as much of a blow. Scott's shoulders trembled, but the silent, shattered tears did not fall.
"What happened?!" he cried. "What happened to you?! Why weren't we here to help?!"
Sean was asking himself the same question. To actually see Elliott here . . . to know that Barry's warnings were coming true . . . it felt like an icy wall was going up around his heart. And he could sense Barry's pain, too, even though he did not speak of it. When Sean dared to look at him, the sorrow was etched deep into Barry's features.
Elliott himself was standing by, his shoulders slumped, his eyes anguished. He had long ago suspected this outcome. He was not surprised. But he was agonized over the pain and heartbreak this was causing his friends.
"I remember," he said quietly. "I remember what happened. . . ."
Scott jerked, looking up at him, his eyes filled with questions. "What happened?" he pleaded, not wanting to know and wanting to know all at once.
". . . I chased RoboCrook here, but he knew I was following him," Elliott said, his voice far-away as the memories swirled through his mind. "I tried to sneak up on him and throw nails in the road so his tires would get punctured. Instead . . . he snuck up on me around the corner and . . ." He clenched a fist. "He hit me with his car. . . ."
The others stared at him. "H-he hit you?!" Scott gasped. "He ran you down?!"
Elliott gave a slow nod. ". . . I remember flying up on the windshield . . . and it breaking. . . . Glass was going everywhere. The last thing I heard when I fell off the hood and into the crates was RoboCrook laughing."
Scott clenched a fist. "We won't let him get away with this," he vowed. "We'll bring him to justice. . . ." But that would not bring Elliott back. Nothing could do that now.
Elliott looked down. "I'm sorry," he said sadly. "I failed. If I could've at least gotten back what he stole . . ."
"You'd still be dead," Sean spoke at last.
"But I wouldn't have died a failure!" Elliott spit out the word. "I'm pathetic."
"That's not true!" Scott scrambled to his feet, facing his friend. He struggled to ignore the light of the moon shining through the translucent form. It was such an eerie sight.
"El . . . if anyone's a failure, it's probably me," he said. "I'm always getting in trouble with Carmen's goons. Then I go back to ACME and die on the floor. . . ."
"But you always bring important information!" Elliott retorted. "Without you, a lot of crooks would still be running free with their stolen goods." He shook his head. "But me . . . I've always been a nobody. I'm just the idiot of the group."
"That's not true!" Sean cried. "That's just what you get people to think when you act crazy!"
"I really am clumsy," Elliott said, still sounding bitter. "That's not part of the act. And if I'd been watching better, I would've known RoboCrook was coming with the car. I could've gotten out of the way. . . ."
"Not necessarily," Barry said with a sad shake of his head. "If he was going over the speed limit when he went around the corner, you might not have been able to do a thing about getting out of his way."
Elliott knew that was true. But he was angry at himself. Right now he did not want to think that maybe there was nothing he could have done. He wanted to blame someone for what was happening, and he held himself responsible as well as RoboCrook.
". . . I think I know now why I've been hanging around," he said at last, looking up at his friends.
Something gripped at Scott's heart. Whatever Elliott was going to say, Scott did not want to hear it. Somehow he knew that, just by the sad finality he could hear in Elliott's voice.
"All this time . . . I've just been denying the truth. . . . But I knew I was dying when RoboCrook hit me." Elliott clenched a fist. "I heard him laughing and I knew . . . and the last thing I thought was that I couldn't go like this. . . . I didn't want you guys to be back at ACME and get the phone call that . . . I'd been found. . . ."
Scott shook his head, his eyes wide and agonized. He could only mouth a weak "No" as his shoulders trembled.
"I didn't remember after everything went dark . . . but I stuck around to say goodbye." Elliott looked from Scott to Sean and Barry. Slowly Barry lowered his head, his expression sobered and solemn. Sean's eyes widened.
And Scott did not want to accept it.
"No!" he exclaimed. "Don't say that!" His heart twisted. "Don't go. . . ."
He had felt helpless many times. As the Dying Informant, he had to wonder if every mission where he was waylaid would be his last. From one day to the next he did not know if he would live through it. But that uncertainty, and the pain of slowly dying from the wounds V.I.L.E.'s agents inflicted, was far more preferable than the anguish of seeing his best friend dead.
"You know I'd stay if I could," Elliott said, his voice and eyes filled with sorrow. "I don't think I have a choice." Now that he had realized why he had lingered, he could feel his spirit beginning to fade from this realm. He shimmered, lightly-colored mists beginning to encircle his form. As he held up his hand, staring at it, the same mists began to swirl around it.
Scott could see it, too. "Fight it, El!" he begged. "It can't be your time! You have to fight it!"
"That's right!" Sean exclaimed. "We could still save you! The ACME doctors should be able to do something . . . !" Of course none of them really knew how bad Elliott's injuries had been. All that they knew for certain was that his neck and back were not broken. So many other things could be wrong, but Sean did not want to focus on that. He wanted to focus only on the possibility of Elliott remaining with them, alive and eventually well.
Barry looked over, agonized as well. "Elliott . . ." But he was not certain what to say or how to say it. Usually he studied a situation in silence before making a sometimes helpful, sometimes wry comment. This time his mind was blank. He knew what he wanted to say; Sean and Scott were already saying it. And he knew he was afraid that Elliott would not be able to stay no matter how hard he tried.
But Barry did not need to speak. Elliott understood.
A new pang stabbed into his soul as he saw the others' agony and desperation. He reached out, clawing at the air, wanting to be able to grab hold of them and be pulled back into the mortal realm.
"I don't want to be dead!" he screamed.
"How touching."
The cold, robotic voice sent icy chills into all of the ACME agents. They whirled in shock, looking to where RoboCrook was coming towards them. And then Scott's feelings overtook all rationality.
"You!" he cried, his voice filled with hate. He lunged forward before Sean or Barry could restrain him, his dark trenchcoat flying out in the breeze.
RoboCrook easily sidestepped the attack. "You humans are far too emotional," he said.
"You killed Elliott!" Scott burst out, his voice climbing.
RoboCrook raised his arm, shooting a laser blast. Scott leaped out of the way, but only barely in time. Splinters rained on his feet from a newly-shattered crate.
"Scott, no!" Elliott exclaimed in horror. "You'll end up like me!" And usually Scott was so in control of himself. If one of them was going to lose control, it was generally Elliott himself, in a fit of anger and grief. But now something inside Scott had broke. He was charging at RoboCrook again, and now Sean and Barry were running after him.
The cruel android smirked. "Haha," he said, shooting off more lasers at their feet. Almost in a bizarre dance, they jumped and twisted out of the way.
Sean grabbed a nearby metal pole as he dodged another laser bolt. "We are taking you down," he said, his voice cold and drastically unlike his usual, mischievous self.
"You're under arrest," Barry added, suddenly coming upon RoboCrook from behind.
"In the name of ACME Crimenet." Scott lunged at RoboCrook from the side, at the last moment pulling the standard-issue gun that all of them carried but rarely used. With so many attacking at once, the robot's attention was divided. Scott fired, the bullet driving into the metal arm. RoboCrook stiffened, whirling to punch Scott with his good arm.
Sean brought the metal pole down on RoboCrook's head. "We're overloading his circuits!" he cried. "Finish it off, Barry!"
Before RoboCrook had a chance to turn and see what Barry was going to do, the bassman was pointing a taser at the metal body. As he pulled the trigger, electricity shot into RoboCrook.
"AUUUGH!"
Sean and Barry leaped out of the way at the electronic scream. RoboCrook staggered, sparks flying in all directions. Raising his arm, he grabbed for the nearest human to him---and that happened to be Scott, trying to sneak up on him for one final assault. His eyes widened in pain as the remains of the electricity channeled into him as well. RoboCrook sneered, pleased, and began to lift the blond off the ground. Gritting his teeth, Scott threw several small, round disks at RoboCrook in spite of the immense pain coursing through his body. They landed on RoboCrook's hat.
"Scott!" Sean stared in horror. He and Barry could not touch RoboCrook right now; they would only be electrocuted too. But Sean was still holding the pole, which he had brought with him upon leaping away. Now he threw it with all his might. If it could just hit RoboCrook . . . and shatter his concentration long enough for Scott to get free. . . .
Barry grabbed Sean's arm as the pole went flying. "Sean . . . look!" he said.
Something in his tone made Sean immediately follow his gaze. Elliott had gotten in between Scott and RoboCrook, the remaining essence of his spirit blocking all further attempts at shocking Scott as he kept his arms protectively around the blond. As Sean's pole slammed into RoboCrook's back, Scott was released, crashing onto some nearby crates.
The blond groaned. His head was pounding. He must have hit it on something during his fall. Already he was sinking out of consciousness. But he could still hear Elliott's voice from somewhere nearby.
"It's okay, Scott. It's really okay! You did just fine."
"El . . ." Scott whispered as the darkness fell.
Even in death, his friend had tried to protect him.
****
"Scott?"
"Scott, can you hear us?"
The familiar voices penetrated Scott's consciousness. Weakly he forced his eyes open. Sean and Barry were leaning over him, obviously worried.
". . . How long have I been out?" he managed to ask, moving a hand to his head as quickly as he could. It was pounding. His eyes did not feel so great right now, either.
"A minute or two," Sean said. "That was quick thinking on your part---throwing those magnets at Robo to short out his computer!"
Scott blinked. "Did he go down yet?"
"Right after he dropped you," Sean said. "He turned to face me and Barry and then just . . . signed out." He smirked, but it was clearly forced. "I'm not voting to get him a new motherboard."
The rest of the memories flooded back. "El!" Scott cried, sitting up straight despite the shooting pain. "El was there, protecting me when Robo was trying to electrocute me. . . ." Ice crept into his veins at the sudden looks of sorrow from his other friends.
". . . Elliott's gone," Barry said at last.
Sean nodded. ". . . After he saw you were okay, he . . . he faded away," he said. "He was already almost gone by the time he broke free to go to you . . ."
Overwhelming anguish washed over Scott as he struggled to process this. "H-he said he stuck around to say goodbye," he said at last. ". . . And then when we were in trouble, that bound him here too. . . ."
He forced himself to get up in spite of the pain. But he swayed, the wooden-planked floor seeming to tilt up to knock him off-balance. Sean and Barry were immediately at his sides, grabbing his arms to hold him up.
With their support, Scott stumbled back to where they had left Elliott's body. But the sight of the cold, lifeless form sent any strength out of Scott's legs. He fell to his knees, the sob that had been building finally tearing free.
Elliott was not there now. He had gone on to whatever afterlife awaited him---and Scott knew it would be good. He was free of pain. But they had lost him.
"It wasn't supposed to be this way," Scott choked out. "It wasn't . . . !" Shaking, he picked up Elliott's abandoned fedora. For a long moment he stared at it, clutching the edges so tightly it was a wonder they did not permanently crease. In that moment so many memories teased him in his mind, flitting past before becoming entangled with all the rest.
Snow falling on his head from the tree in Central Park . . . El's good-natured laugh about it . . . Scott throwing a snowball at him. . . .
Their crazy antics at ACME. . . . Trying to fly like Superman . . . dancing on the map . . . the marble accidentally breaking. . . .
All just memories now. And there never would be any more of them.
El was gone.
Elliott had been growing so discouraged and heartsick over everything that had kept happening to them on their assignments. . . . Scott had tried to comfort him, even though he had known he could not say that they would always come out of their misfortunes alive and kicking.
And now it was El who had not come out of it alright.
Scott reached out, laying the fedora on Elliott's head. That was where it belonged.
"We . . . we'd better take him and go," he said at last.
Sean nodded, reaching for his phone to call for another car to take RoboCrook. There would not be room for all of them and RoboCrook in the car. And they were taking Elliott with them. They would not turn him over to the morgue until they were back at ACME.
Suddenly Scott noticed that Elliott's left hand was positioned uncomfortably on top of a crate's corner. Frowning, he leaned over to move it. A shiver went up his spine as he took the clammy hand in his own. But then he could scarcely believe what he was feeling.
The fingers had given a weak jerk and then had started to curl.
Scott cried out in shock. "El?!" he half-wailed. Could he really have felt that? Was it possible?
Sean nearly jumped off the pier. "What is it?!" he exclaimed, pulling the phone away from his ear.
"It's El!" Scott exclaimed. "He . . . he moved! His hand moved just now, when I . . ."
Barry frowned. "It couldn't have been because he . . ." But he trailed off. Scott was searching for a pulse, his eyes wide and pleading.
"Look!" Scott cried. "There's a pulse! Right here---you can feel it!" He indicated Elliott's wrist.
Still skeptical, yet longing to believe, Sean reached to touch the spot. He stiffened. ". . . It's weak, but it's there," he said. "We don't need the morgue; we need an ambulance! He's come back." He shook his head in stunned amazement and joy. "He's come back. . . ."
They could still lose him, depending on how serious his injuries were. Because of that, Sean was not sure that he could fully give in to the hope that was swiftly beginning to build. But now there was a chance. He grabbed the phone again as Barry leaned over to feel the spot for himself.
Scott gave a shaky smile as he watched. He could see the slow rise and fall of Elliott's shoulders and back. Elliott was breathing.
And somehow he knew---they were not going to lose him.
****
Greg was still at ACME when they arrived. He could hardly believe it when the doors burst open, admitting the ACME medics wheeling Elliott in on a stretcher while Scott, Sean, and Barry ran in alongside.
"You found him?!" Greg gasped, getting up to hurry after them as they made their way towards the ACME infirmary.
Scott nodded. "It's a long story, but we did!" he said. "He was dead then, but he came back! He's going to be okay!"
Sean could only pray that was true. They could not follow through the doors of the emergency room. He came to a stop as the medics pushed Elliott through, the doors swinging shut behind them.
The next couple of hours were a flurry of activity, waiting, and worry. Greg stayed with them for a good portion of the time, though he was then called out on a new case. Reluctantly he left, but not before making them promise to call him when Elliott woke up. When they were finally allowed to see Elliott, back in a quiet room, they were all ready to drop. But none of them could think of sleeping yet.
Scott crossed his arms on the bed railing. "I'm going to stay here until he wakes up," he vowed. Elliott was laying on the mattress, his head turned to the side. He was wearing a dark red robe in addition to the white gauze around his forehead and his right arm. His left arm was on top of the covers, the little monitor for the machines clamped over his forefinger.
"That might not be for a while," Barry said. "He's had a rough experience."
Sean nodded, crossing his arms. Of course when Elliott woke up he would object to that statement, saying that the others had had it much worse because in addition to everything they had suffered before, they could only watch and worry while he remained unconscious and unaware.
"I'm staying anyway," Scott said. "You guys can go if you want."
"We're staying too," Sean said, pulling up a chair.
Barry nodded his agreement. They could not leave now.
Scott stared down at their friend. Even though it had not been that long of a period of time, it had seemed an eternity that Elliott had been intangible and translucent. Now, somehow, he had been restored to his body. Would he wake up with all of his memories intact? Would he think what had happened tonight was just a horrible dream? Maybe he would not remember it all. When he had first been a ghost, he had not been able to recall how it had happened.
". . . Hey," Scott frowned then, "why was RoboCrook still hanging around, anyway? Normally he would've been a thousand miles away after all that time."
Sean gave a grim, humourless smirk. "ACME scientists are still checking it out, but it looks like when he ran down Elliott he ended up damaging himself and the car in the collision," he said. "He was staying at the docks because he was trying to repair himself. Then I guess when he saw us, he decided to try taking us out, too."
"So his cruel act ended up being his undoing," Barry mused.
Sean nodded.
For a while they sat in silence, lost in their thoughts of the past few hours. But at last Elliott stirred, bringing everyone to attention.
It was strange, to finally open his eyes and see the ceiling up above him . . . to feel the mattress against his back . . . to hear the machines beeping behind him. But the strangest of all was when Scott leaned into his line of vision.
"El?!" he exclaimed. "El, you're awake!" And he joyously yet gently hugged his friend.
Elliott stiffened at the touch. ". . . I can feel this," he choked out, the awe obvious in his voice. He reached up with a shaking right hand, gripping at Scott as he returned the embrace with a half-hug.
Sean and Barry were instantly at the bedside. "El!" Sean greeted. "It's about time you woke up. We wondered if you were going to sleep through the rest of the night and the day too!"
Elliott managed a weak smirk as Scott pulled back. "So . . . how bad's the damage?" he asked.
Barry pretended to survey him. "A twisted ankle. Assorted cuts, scrapes, and bruises. Several cracked ribs," he said.
"And you're just lucky it's not a cracked skull," Sean said, pointing in emphasis at the bandage around Elliott's forehead. "You've got a pretty bad concussion."
"Yeah?" Elliott frowned. "I wonder if that's what killed me. . . ." He leaned into the pillow, looking up at the others. "After I . . . faded, I heard the Voice tell me that me being so determined to stay here while you guys needed help would save my life tonight. And he said that I'd be healed enough so I wouldn't have any permanent damage."
Scott looked confused. "The Voice healed me all the way that time he intervened when I died," he said.
Elliott tiredly raised a hand off the blanket in a shrugging manner. Maybe he was supposed to learn something from this. Or maybe the Voice had just gotten too bored or busy to finish the job.
Sean studied his childhood friend. "There's something more to it, isn't there?" he frowned.
Scott had suspected the same. "El . . . what is it?" he pleaded. He did not want secrets between them, not now. Barry was also giving Elliott an expectant look.
Elliott sighed. He had not wanted to tell the rest, mainly because he did not want the others to feel guilty or responsible in any way. But there was no way out of it now.
". . . Before that, when I was first fading and RoboCrook showed up, I was told that if I kept resisting death, I wouldn't end up in Heaven." Elliott frowned.
Scott stared. "You mean you'd go to . . ."
". . . I said I didn't care." Elliott looked to Scott, then the others. "I said I wouldn't leave until you guys were out of danger with RoboCrook. And I meant it."
Scott swallowed hard. He knew Elliott would have, too. And under the same circumstances, any one of them would have done the same thing.
"After what the Voice said later, I started thinking maybe it had really been some kind of test." Elliott frowned.
"Like of your loyalty?" Sean said.
"I guess," Elliott said. "Or how far I'd be willing to take it."
"And you passed it! But . . ." Scott suddenly felt sick. "What if it hadn't just been a test, El?" he gasped. "What if you'd really ended up in . . ."
Elliott shook his head. "Don't think about that," he said.
Scott gripped the metal railing. "But I can't not think about it," he objected. "It's horrible!"
". . . They never would have made Elliott go there," Barry spoke up. "Not when he doesn't deserve it at all."
"That's right," Sean said. He really had no idea what sort of policies were to be had in the afterlife, especially when it had not been that long ago that he had not even believed in an afterlife. But condemning Elliott to Hell was just not done. He was too good for such a fate.
Scott gave a slow nod. He knew he had to accept that for now and be thankful it had only been a test. But just the thought of it still bothered him. Elliott could have given up everything he had left in order to help them fight RoboCrook.
"Hey . . ." Elliott managed a weak grin. "I'm back." He reached up with his left hand, in spite of the annoying clamp on his index finger, and let his hand rest on Scott's forearm. "I'll get better and things will be just fine."
Scott could not help smiling too. It did not look as though Elliott would suffer any lasting scars from the experience . . . though Scott was certain that as for himself, he would always be haunted by the memories of seeing Elliott coming to him, panic-stricken by his ghostly state, then later beginning to accept the reality of the situation and finally starting to fade from the mortal plane.
Though Scott said nothing, Elliott seemed to realize this too. Deep regret flashed through his eyes. He gripped Scott's arm a bit tighter.
". . . You know, this has to be the most eerie Halloween we've ever spent," Sean remarked.
Elliott frowned. "That's right, it was Halloween, wasn't it." Somehow that made his venture as a ghost even more unsettling. He gave a lopsided smirk. "I don't think I want to celebrate like this again."
"We'd better not!" Scott retorted, knowing that Elliott was cracking a joke as a way of dealing with how disturbed he and the others felt.
"Just give us a nice, normal mystery to solve, like the Contessa stealing Baskerville Hall or Kneemoi running off with Dr. Frankenstein's research," Sean chimed in.
"Don't jinx us," Barry said in a complete deadpan.
Elliott chuckled.
Home sweet home.
****
At some point after their reunion, Scott must have dozed. He found himself starting awake, his arms still crossed on the railing. For a moment he sat there, breathing heavily as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the room. It was coming back to him now---he had been dreaming of what had happened earlier that night. Elliott had faded away . . . and had not come back.
He looked down at the bed, half-expecting to see that Elliott was not there. But he was---and he was at least half-awake. He was looking at Scott, concern in his eyes.
"Hey . . . are you okay?" he asked.
Scott gave a shaky nod. "Y-yeah, I think so. . . ." He pushed himself upright. "What about you?"
"I'm just fine," Elliott reassured him. ". . . You were dreaming about what happened, weren't you?"
". . . I was," Scott admitted.
"I did, too." Elliott sounded far away.
"It was horrible." Scott's voice was hushed.
Elliott nodded. ". . . I'm still trying to realize that I'm actually back," he said. "It seems too incredible to be real."
Scott swallowed. "Did you really think you were going to end up in . . . in Hell?" he asked. It was still bothering him.
"I'm not sure." Elliott frowned. "I knew that didn't sound right or fair, but it was what I was told. I wasn't thinking much about it, though. I just wanted to join the fight."
"If you'd really stopped to think . . ."
"I still would've done the same thing," Elliott interrupted.
Scott knew that was true. He shook his head. "We wouldn't have even known," he said, haunted by the thought.
"I didn't want you to know at all," Elliott said.
For a moment they were quiet, the beeping of the machines the only sound. Then Scott spoke again.
"El . . . I never did thank you for helping me out back there," he said. "You were right---I let myself lose control. I could've gotten myself killed."
"I would've flipped out too." Elliott gave a small smile. "And hey . . . what are friends for?"
Scott leaned back, sweeping his wild blond curls away from his face. "Where's Sean and Barry?" he asked, suddenly fully realizing that the others were not there.
"I think they went to get something to eat and call Greg," Elliott said. "Why don't you go catch up?"
Scott shook his head. "I'm not hungry," he said. A monstrous yawn tore from his lips.
Elliott laughed. "But you're tired," he said. "There's an empty bed here. Lay down and get some decent sleep."
"Maybe I will," Scott said. But he kept sitting there.
"Scott . . ." Elliott looked to him. "I'm really sorry for everything I put you and the others through tonight. If I could take it back, I would."
Scott started, looking back to him. "It wasn't your fault!" he exclaimed. "And El, you're not a failure," he added, remembering Elliott's bitter revelations on what he thought of himself. "Please don't think of yourself like that. . . ."
Elliott was silent for a moment. "I'll consider it, if you'll consider not thinking of yourself as one, either," he said then.
Scott allowed a bit of a smirk. "I should've seen that coming," he said.
Elliott watched him. "Deal?" he asked, holding up his hand.
Scott shook his head in mock exasperation. "Okay, it's a deal," he agreed, reaching to grasp Elliott's hand to shake on it.
This time their hands did not pass through each other.
Author: Lucky_Ladybug/insaneladybug
Claim: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego? (General Series)
Table: Do-It-Yourself
Prompt: Halloween
Rating: T/PG-13
Summary: Elliott returns to ACME Crimenet with no memory of where he was before ... or of why he's completely intangible.
Warnings: Dark and angsty situations for a generally-lighthearted show.
Notes: Fictional Rockapella only. I will not write Real Person fic.
Will be cross-posted to ladybug_tales
Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
You Won't Be So Far Away
By Lucky_Ladybug
Notes: The characters are not mine and the story is! The idea of when it's set is from the prompt Halloween at 10 Hurt Comfort. It was originally an RP idea of mine, which I then enacted with Crystal Rose. The basic outline of the plot up to the scene at the docks is taken from that RP, though this fic version is quite different in some ways. And the final couple of scenes are entirely from my own mind, except for the idea of Scott's monologue following the battle. That is also based on one of Crystal Rose's ideas. Many thanks to her and to Kaze for plot help! And please remember, fictional TV show Rockapella only! I do not write Real Person stories!
It was a cold autumn night, the kind with a large, round, yellow-tinted full moon that seems to automatically make one think of Halloween no matter what time of year it is.
But as luck would have it, this night was Halloween. The trick-or-treaters had long since returned to their homes, where the little ghouls and goblins had proceeded to consume far more of the night's winnings than they really should have done. Halloween pranksters were still afoot, leaving mischief for homeowners and cemetery caretakers to discover in the morning. Still others celebrated by introducing themselves to spirits of another sort at bars and clubs. All of this was quite typical for the holiday.
Clouds were slowly passing back and forth in front of the moon, plunging the New York streets into even more darkness. Out around the warehouses, it was rare to see more than one or two streetlamps per block, as opposed to the bustling lights of downtown Manhattan. In the heart of town, the appearing and disappearing moon was not noticed much.
A short, curly-haired brunet was looking up at it, however---as if it could give him the answers he was seeking. But of course he knew it could not. He sighed, pushing back the dark fedora hat on his head.
This was not typical for the holiday---or any other day, for that matter.
Elliott was not sure how long he had been wandering the streets, trying to get home. He could not even clearly remember how he had gotten outside . . . wherever he had been. It was disturbing, that he seemed to be having a form of amnesia where the past hour was concerned. Suddenly he had been standing outside a billboard company at the edge of the warehouse district, as if he had been asleep or unconscious and was just waking up. No one had been around to explain what had happened, and he was missing his comb phone as well as everything else he had been carrying. Maybe he had been overpowered and mugged by someone from V.I.L.E., but he did not feel as though he was injured. He felt just fine. Hopefully someone at ACME would be able to figure out what was going on.
What was even more disturbing was how many times cars had nearly run him down since he had begun his journey back to ACME Crimenet. Of course, there were crazy drivers in New York, but he had never had this much trouble before.
Now he leaped out of the way, narrowly missing yet another rampaging automobile. "Hey!" he yelled from the curb. "Why don't you watch where you're going?!"
As had been the norm that night, the driver paid him no heed. Elliott growled, hurrying down the sidewalk. He had not realized that Halloween night was a time when the especially wild drivers came out of the woodwork.
At least he was almost home. Here was the familiar alley now. In relief he hurried down the path and up the steps. Mrs. Pumpkinclanger was either not at home or in bed, since she did not lean out of her window to scold him for coming back so late. But that was just as well; he did not feel like dealing with her right now. He reached for the doorknob.
But instead of grasping it, his hand passed through. He stared, his heart hammering in his . . .
Wait. . . .
His heart was not hammering anywhere. It was only fully dawning now that he could not feel it. He had not felt it all through his wild marathon across town. He had been driven by such an urgent need to get back home that he had not stopped to even think about something that he had taken for granted. A hand flew to his chest. Nothing. And there was the matter of his hand going through the doorknob. . . . And the cars almost running him down. . . .
A scream of alarm tore from his lips. He ran at the door, phasing through and into Greg's office. Greg was sitting at his desk, going over paperwork and muttering about the Chief having him stay overtime to get it all done tonight. He ran a hand through his light-brown hair, a few stray locks slipping out of place and falling on his forehead. He did not look up.
Elliott ran over, slamming his hands on the desk without thinking. They plunged through, sending him flying forward and right into Greg. The brunet gave a cry of both shock and disbelief as he passed through the desk, Greg, and the chair before managing to steady his wild fall by thrusting out his arms to balance himself. Then he whirled around, his dark curls bouncing with the motion. Greg had looked up, confused, but he did not look like he had seen what had just happened.
"Greg!" Elliott exclaimed, running over to the detective's side. "Greg, I'm right here! You can see me, can't you?! And hear me?! I just fell right through you! You can't tell me you didn't feel that!"
Greg shivered, pulling his dark blue suit jacket closer around him. "I thought we got the stupid heater fixed," he complained to himself.
Elliott shook his head, horror in his eyes as he backed up against the filing cabinet. But he realized what he was doing before he could phase through it too. He stiffened, moving away from it. Then he forlornly raised his gaze to the old photograph of Agnes Acme hanging above the green drawers. The calm and dignified woman continued to stare ahead, unaware of the desperate eyes watching her. If there was ever a time he needed her guidance, it was now. But maybe even she would not know what to do about this.
He turned and ran through the office, going past the janitors who never looked up as he tore into the corridor where the agents' rooms were located. Going up the steps to the second floor, he ran to Scott's room and through the closed door. The room was dark, save for the dim glow of the lamp on the nightstand. Scott was laying on his bed, looking either asleep or close to it.
Elliott ran over to the side of the bed. "Scott!" he cried. "Scott, wake up! You have to hear me. Come on, tell me you can hear me! Tell me you can see me!" He leaned over, as if to grip the edge of the mattress, but then stopped himself. If his heart had been beating, it would have surely been thumping loud enough for Scott to hear. The incident with Greg had greatly shaken him. Scott was his best friend; would even he not be able to see or hear Elliott?
But Scott stirred, as if in response to Elliott's voice. He rolled over onto his side, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he tried to focus on the other. ". . . El?" he mumbled, still half-asleep. "What's wrong?"
Relief flooded Elliott's soul. Scott could both see and hear him. He did wonder why Greg had not been able to, but he would worry about that somewhere down the line.
"Scott, look at me!" he said, wildly gesturing at himself.
Fully beginning to process how the beam from the nightlight was affecting his friend, the blond's eyes snapped open all the way as he flew upright in bed. "Elliott!" he gasped, the color draining from his face. "W-what happened to you?!"
"I don't know!" Elliott exclaimed. "I . . . I was on assignment, I remember that much, but . . . I randomly woke up standing in the parking lot of a billboard company, with no one around. So I started trying to get back here, while all these cars kept nearly running me down. And . . ." He slumped back. "When I got here, Greg couldn't see me or hear me or anything, even though I fell right through him and the desk. . . ."
"Fell through . . . ?" Swallowing hard, Scott held out his hand, reaching for the brunet. Elliott extended his hand as well, desperate to be able to grab onto Scott's. He could not be completely intangible. He could not be . . . because then he would have to really stop to think about why it was happening and what it would mean.
Scott stared, alarmed as Elliott's hand phased through his own. They jerked their hands back at the same time, raising their eyes to meet each other in horror.
"It was like a . . . a cold energy just passed through my hand," Scott whispered. "El, you're . . ."
"I'm not!" Elliott screamed, not wanting to hear his fears spoken. "I swear I'm not! I just . . . don't remember what happened. . . ."
Scott swung his legs to the floor, then pushed himself off the bed. "I remember the Chief was going to send you somewhere," he said, "but I don't know where or why. You had to leave before you got the chance to tell us.
"Let's get the others and go ask Greg!" he exclaimed.
Elliott gave a numb nod, following Scott to the door. Would Sean and Barry be able to see and hear him too? He had known Sean the longest, having met him when Sean had moved to Manhattan from the Bronx when he had been ten. Barry had joined them a couple of years later, and Scott a couple of years after that---but they had closely bonded with each newcomer, becoming a surrogate family. Greg had been part of their family, too---though he had always seemed somewhat detached from the rest of them. Being the Special Agent in Charge of Training New Recruits had widened the gap between them and him---though they tried to find time during each case to tease him and remind him of the good times they had experienced together.
Now Scott hurried into the hall, Elliott hurrying right alongside. Crossing to Sean's room next door, Scott gave several frantic bangs. "Sean!" he yelled. "Open up!"
Sean was awake, looking over the day's reports for ACME Crimenet, when he heard the pounding. Stunned, he leaped up, the papers falling to the end table next to the chair. "Scott, what are you doing?" he exclaimed. "You're going to wake the dead!"
He hauled open the door, half-expecting Scott to fall in a la the Dying Informant. He was already steeling himself to catch his friend when he saw the much-different sight. "What happened?!" he gasped, stiffening in shock. "Elliott, you're . . ." He reached out, trying to grab the shorter man's shoulders. Both he and Elliott froze at the effort. Sean could only stare. "Did you get in the way of ACME Mysticnet's annual astral projection get-together?!" It was the only possibility he could think of at the moment.
"No!" Elliott retorted. "I was on an assignment. But I don't remember where I was or how this happened!"
Sean swallowed hard. "If we find out where you were, maybe we'll find out what happened to you," he said. But would there be anything they could even do? For Elliott to turn up here like this, it really seemed that there could only be one explanation. Sean was horrified. From Scott's expression, he was thinking the same thing---and trying not to.
Just down the hall, Barry's door opened. "What's going on?" he frowned. As he stepped out and approached his friends, he caught sight of Elliott. His usual deadpan faltered.
"Elliott . . ." he breathed.
"We have to see if Greg knows where Elliott went on assignment!" Scott exclaimed before Barry could continue his train of thought.
Now Barry swallowed hard. ". . . You don't remember?" he said to Elliott, trying not to stare at the brunet's translucent condition.
"No," Elliott said, feeling helpless as they turned to head for the stairs. "I just . . . woke up out by some billboard company near the warehouse district and came back here." He looked at his friends, the sinking feeling increasing. "You guys . . . you all think I'm . . ." He could tell from their expressions. And he could not bear it.
"We don't know!" Scott exclaimed.
"It's just that . . ." Sean ran his tongue over his lips. "El . . . when you're like this . . . that doesn't happen every day, and . . ."
"I'm not dead!" Elliott screamed. His eyes widened as he realized he had spoken the forbidden word. Suddenly growing quiet, he turned away from them as he forlornly went down the stairs.
Scott's heart twisted. "El . . ." For a moment he reached for his friend, not thinking of what a futile action it was.
Elliott did not turn back, even when Scott's hand phased through him.
Barry watched him with narrowed eyes as they followed him down the steps. Even . . . like this, he was still Elliott. He had not changed. If he actually was . . . a ghost, would he linger in this form from now on? Or would he eventually be called away to whatever afterlife was prepared for him?
And where was his . . . his body? Why didn't he realize he was dead, if indeed that was the case?
Now they were passing across the map on the ground floor. Scott swallowed hard. Only a few lights were on at the moment, mostly for the janitors. When the families and friends of the detectives-in-training were here to observe the cases, they usually joined in the celebrations when the cases were solved. One time Scott had jokingly decided to dance with Elliott on the map. He was seeing them now in his mind's eye---him laughing as he tried to teach Elliott a waltz, Elliott so awkward as he tried to follow Scott's lead, stumbling over Scott's feet, and then at last giving up. . . .
Scott gave a weak smile. Poor two-left-feet Elliott.
He looked away.
Greg was still in his office when they arrived. He looked up in surprise, blinking to see them all coming in.
"Hey, fellas," he said. "What's up?" He frowned. "Are you worried about Elliott?" He could see from their expressions that something was bothering them.
Elliott shrank back. "He still can't see me," he said to no one in particular.
Scott bit his lip. "Do you know where Elliott went?" he asked Greg, who shook his head.
"I don't," he said. "The Chief's the only one who knows."
"And she's already gone home!" Sean said. "Maybe it would say in her files." He looked to the green door.
"Oh come on, guys." Greg frowned. "You can't just go pawing through the Chief's files. Sometimes these assignments take a while. You know that."
"But we don't have a while!" Scott burst out.
Greg regarded him in confusion. "You act like you know something about Elliott," he said.
"We do!" Scott said, but then trailed off. How would he explain what they knew without Greg thinking they were just nuts? Frantically he racked his mind for an idea.
"Hey," Greg said then, looking annoyed, "the heat's not working again." He pulled his jacket closer. "It was doing this a few minutes ago. This cold breeze came right at me."
"That was me!" Elliott cried, desperate to be heard.
Greg frowned, looking disturbed. ". . . Okay," he said then. "I think you guys are getting to me. I thought I heard Elliott just now."
Elliott stared at him, struck speechless. Sean hastened to explain.
"You did hear Elliott!" he declared. "He's here!"
"Then how come I can't see him?" Greg objected. "And why were you asking about his assignment if he's already here?"
Recovering from the shock, Elliott moved closer to him. "Can you feel this?" he said, passing his hand through Greg's shoulder.
Greg's eyes widened. He reached up, clapping a hand over the spot. "Hey!" he exclaimed. "What was that?! And what's the deal with me hearing Elliott? Is this some kind of a prank?" He glared at Sean. "It's not funny."
"It's not a prank!" Scott retorted. "That's El you're feeling."
"That's what we've been trying to tell you!" Sean said. "Elliott's here . . . but he's not . . . well, solid. . . ."
"I'm . . ." Elliott's shoulders slumped. "I'm a ghost. . . ."
The color began to drain from Greg's face. "Elliott . . ." He looked in the general direction of the voice. The anguish and sorrow he was hearing could not be faked.
"We need to know where he went on his assignment so we can find out what happened to him," Barry spoke.
"And i- . . . how to fix it," Sean added. There could not be any "ifs." Elliott had to still be able to be saved! From his tone of voice, he was already beginning to give up hope. His friends could not give up as well.
Greg nodded, getting up from his desk. "Let's go paw through the Chief's files," he said, crossing the room and taking out his spare key. Inserting it into the lock, he turned it and opened the green door. He hurried inside, flipping on the lights as the others followed.
Sean hauled open the top filing cabinet drawer, thumbing through the folders until he found the one he wanted---Current Assignments. He pulled it out as the others gathered around him.
"This is today's roster," he said, looking it over. "Here you are, Elliott. . . . You were out at Reagan Advertising, trying to stop RoboCrook from stealing the power to the electronic billboards."
Elliott frowned. "Well, that's just great," he said. "That was where I . . . woke up, but I didn't see any bodies laying around."
"Let's go there and look around!" Scott said. "Maybe we'll find you!"
Greg watched them, uncomfortable. Now it looked like he could see a vague silhouette standing by Scott. He shook his head, rapidly blinking, but it was still there. Elliott was becoming visible to him. Why? Was that a good sign . . . or bad? Or did it not have any specific purpose?
"Are you coming?" Barry asked, looking to Greg as they hurried for the door.
Greg hesitated. ". . . Maybe I should stay here and see if I can get in touch with some of our other agents," he said. "Someone could've seen RoboCrook."
"Good idea!" Scott said. "Okay, we'll keep in touch."
They dashed out the door. Greg followed, pulling it shut behind him. He was still shaken by what he had seen and heard. If Elliott was really . . . gone, things would never be the same at ACME Crimenet. And the others would be heart-broken.
And he, Greg . . . how would he take it? Had he even fully processed it? He was so used to Scott as the Dying Informant always coming back that the thought of any of them dying for real was foreign to him. And Elliott . . . cheerful, ridiculous, girl-shy Elliott. . . .
He shook his head. The story about trying to contact other ACME agents was mainly a cover, even though that was something he could be doing. But the real reason he had opted not to go with them was because it was too uncomfortable for him. He did not know how to handle Elliott being a ghost. He needed to be alone for a while to think it over.
And maybe no amount of thinking about it would make it easier to process.
****
Scott had been growing increasingly anxious the closer they drew to Reagan Advertising. It was there that they would finally learn what had become of Elliott---he hoped. But at the same time he dreaded it. If Elliott's body was dead, then there was nothing to be done. Elliott would be forced to remain a spirit. And he would not likely be able to stay with them for much longer. Once he acknowledged that he was . . . not part of the mortal plane, wouldn't that mean that he would be sent away? He had stopped saying that he was not dead before they had even left ACME. And his hope had only decreased on the drive. Maybe he even knew the truth, deep down, but could not say it aloud. But his despondency was already saying it loud and clear. Scott felt like crying.
"El . . ." He turned to look at the curly-haired brunet, who had been sitting next to him on the ride. Elliott had mostly been staring out the window at nothing in particular, though every now and then he had turned to look at the others in the car. Upon hearing Scott's voice, he stiffened, turning to look at his dear friend.
"El, you can't get like this," Scott pleaded. "If you don't believe in yourself, we might not be able to do anything for you, and . . ."
Elliott gave a sad shake of his head. "The closer we get to this place, the more I know the truth," he said. "I knew it when I got back to ACME. Maybe I even knew it when those cars kept almost running me down. Let's face it, Scott, we both know I'm . . ."
"Don't say it!" Scott interrupted. "Please don't say it. . . ." His eyes clearly showed his heartbreak. "I don't want to lose you, El. . . ."
Elliott's smile was sad. "You won't," he said.
The building was finally in sight now. Two or three black-and-white police cars were visible, their blue-and-red lights flashing. Scott's heart did a champion flip-flop. Yellow Do Not Cross tape was stretched across both parking lots. An ambulance with flashing lights was visible at the far corner, the red glow reflected in all the darkened windows.
Sean parked the car nearby, then got out and made his way towards the building, his expression grim. He had to admit, things were not looking good. As he approached the yellow tape, an officer came out to meet him.
"This area is closed off," the policeman said.
Sean dug into his pocket for his detective badge. "What happened here?" he asked as he brought it out.
The officer took the badge, looking it over and then back at Sean. Clearly he was surprised that Sean was a detective. It was probably the braids.
"Two people were found inside, badly hurt," he said. "There was an anonymous call to 911 that led us here."
All of Rockapella was stunned. "Two people?" Scott repeated, coming up from behind Sean.
"Badly hurt?" Elliott echoed, even though he knew he would not be heard.
"Do you know who they were?" Sean asked, taking back his badge.
"Both employees of Reagan Advertising," the policeman said. "One of them woke up just a bit and was moaning about being attacked by a . . . walking robot." He frowned. "The security cameras have all been broken, too. And get this---somehow the entire power supply has been wiped!" He shook his head. "Something's going on here that doesn't make much sense."
"So you don't know where the robot's gone?" Scott said.
"No clue," frowned the police officer. "We're asking around to see if anyone else has seen it."
"Maybe it ran off with a car," Sean suggested.
"Right now we're not putting anything past it," the policeman sighed.
Elliott had been mulling over everything the officer had told them. Now his eyes widened. He turned to look at Scott. "I remember something!" he exclaimed.
Scott's own eyes grew wide. "What is it?!" he asked.
"I found those people!" Elliott told him. "I'm the one who called the ambulance. Then I heard RoboCrook tramping through the building and I had to hurry after him."
"Then . . . maybe you ended up here later because subconsciously you remembered and you were worried about those people!" Scott said.
"Maybe!" Elliott agreed. "And it also means I probably didn't get too far away from here, because the police and the ambulance weren't here when I found myself standing in the parking lot. So not more than a few minutes could've passed."
Scott suddenly froze, feeling the policeman staring at him. Of course he could not see Elliott. He must think Scott was nuts.
Sean tried to hurry and brush over the incident. "We'll spread out and go over the surrounding area," he volunteered. "The robot is probably a felon we've been chasing."
"A robot felon?" the policeman muttered.
"He wasn't born bad, he was built that way," Sean intoned.
"Thirty minutes ago, I would've said you were nuts," said the police officer.
"There's a bunch of warehouses around here, right?" Sean said. "Maybe he's out there." He turned to head back to the car. "Thanks for the information!"
The policeman watched the others follow after Sean. "Robot robbers . . . detectives talking to themselves . . ." He shook his head. "What's this world coming to?"
Sean hauled open the driver's door and climbed inside. The others got in as well, Elliott following Scott into the back even though he technically did not need a door right now.
"Well. . . . What do you think about this?" he said, turning the key in the ignition as he pulled on the safety belt.
"I still don't remember what happened to me," Elliott said, feeling helpless. "But I have this feeling that maybe I got waylaid by RoboCrook. . . ."
"I'm thinking the same thing," Sean said, his voice grim. Quickly he drove past the building, heading for the warehouse district nearby. The old buildings stretched ahead of them, dark and foreboding. Though some were still in use, many of them had been abandoned. Sean parked in front of one of them and got out.
"Let's split up," he suggested. "Barry, you come with me. El, you go with Scott. And we'll meet back here in fifteen minutes."
The others agreed. Elliott and Scott moved to search out the warehouse nearest to them. Sean hurried to the warehouses across the street with Barry, his braids flying as he ran.
He had been trying not to fully think about what was happening. Part of him was still insisting that this was only a terrible dream, something that would vanish come morning. Elliott was not really dead; that was also part of the nightmare. And soon he would wake up and discover that truth.
He had grown up with Elliott. It was not possible that the cheerful goof could be gone . . . just like that. . . .
"We have to hurry," he called over his shoulder. "Wherever El is, he needs help."
". . . If he isn't already beyond that." Barry's tone was grim and sobered.
Sean stiffened. "Don't say things like that!" he snapped. "Elliott needs our support."
"He'll need it even more if he can't come back," Barry said.
"You're just giving up," Sean said. "How's that going to help him at all?"
"I'm trying to think of it from all angles." Now Barry sounded sad. He was just as upset over this as the others were, but he was particularly concerned about how Sean and Scott would handle it if it could not be resolved. None of them were ready to accept the possibility that Elliott could not come back to them. And if he could not, would that eventually tear the rest of them apart?
Sean shook his head, walking to the back of the warehouse they were approaching. Deep down, he knew what Barry said was true. But he was not to the point where he could even consider it. Elliott had to still be able to be saved.
****
Scott and Elliott had been traveling around and through warehouses for what seemed ages. They rarely spoke, in case RoboCrook or someone else unfriendly was lurking about---and also because they could not come up with anything to say. Neither was in the mood to reminisce, but the memories stayed with them anyway. And thinking of the happier times in contrast to this only made it worse.
Scott would never forget the horror and anguish that enveloped him upon seeing a limp, bloodied hand hanging out from among a stack of crates. For a long moment he stared at it, disbelieving. Then his mind snapped into place again and he was running. Somehow he could sense that Elliott had remained frozen for a moment before following. Somewhere in his mind he knew that Sean and Barry were running over from the other direction, having seen the fallen crates too. The wood was digging into his hands as he clawed at the crates, throwing them aside and not caring as they splintered into uselessness. Then he dropped to his knees, as if in a daze, and slowly reached out to touch the cold body he had uncovered.
"El . . ." he whispered.
Elliott's mortal form was sprawled among the crates, mostly on his stomach but somewhat on his right side. His dark fedora had come off in the fall and was laying next to him, while his curls had started to slip over his face. Just looking at him was enough to let Scott know the truth---but reaching to feel for a pulse and finding none was still just as much of a blow. Scott's shoulders trembled, but the silent, shattered tears did not fall.
"What happened?!" he cried. "What happened to you?! Why weren't we here to help?!"
Sean was asking himself the same question. To actually see Elliott here . . . to know that Barry's warnings were coming true . . . it felt like an icy wall was going up around his heart. And he could sense Barry's pain, too, even though he did not speak of it. When Sean dared to look at him, the sorrow was etched deep into Barry's features.
Elliott himself was standing by, his shoulders slumped, his eyes anguished. He had long ago suspected this outcome. He was not surprised. But he was agonized over the pain and heartbreak this was causing his friends.
"I remember," he said quietly. "I remember what happened. . . ."
Scott jerked, looking up at him, his eyes filled with questions. "What happened?" he pleaded, not wanting to know and wanting to know all at once.
". . . I chased RoboCrook here, but he knew I was following him," Elliott said, his voice far-away as the memories swirled through his mind. "I tried to sneak up on him and throw nails in the road so his tires would get punctured. Instead . . . he snuck up on me around the corner and . . ." He clenched a fist. "He hit me with his car. . . ."
The others stared at him. "H-he hit you?!" Scott gasped. "He ran you down?!"
Elliott gave a slow nod. ". . . I remember flying up on the windshield . . . and it breaking. . . . Glass was going everywhere. The last thing I heard when I fell off the hood and into the crates was RoboCrook laughing."
Scott clenched a fist. "We won't let him get away with this," he vowed. "We'll bring him to justice. . . ." But that would not bring Elliott back. Nothing could do that now.
Elliott looked down. "I'm sorry," he said sadly. "I failed. If I could've at least gotten back what he stole . . ."
"You'd still be dead," Sean spoke at last.
"But I wouldn't have died a failure!" Elliott spit out the word. "I'm pathetic."
"That's not true!" Scott scrambled to his feet, facing his friend. He struggled to ignore the light of the moon shining through the translucent form. It was such an eerie sight.
"El . . . if anyone's a failure, it's probably me," he said. "I'm always getting in trouble with Carmen's goons. Then I go back to ACME and die on the floor. . . ."
"But you always bring important information!" Elliott retorted. "Without you, a lot of crooks would still be running free with their stolen goods." He shook his head. "But me . . . I've always been a nobody. I'm just the idiot of the group."
"That's not true!" Sean cried. "That's just what you get people to think when you act crazy!"
"I really am clumsy," Elliott said, still sounding bitter. "That's not part of the act. And if I'd been watching better, I would've known RoboCrook was coming with the car. I could've gotten out of the way. . . ."
"Not necessarily," Barry said with a sad shake of his head. "If he was going over the speed limit when he went around the corner, you might not have been able to do a thing about getting out of his way."
Elliott knew that was true. But he was angry at himself. Right now he did not want to think that maybe there was nothing he could have done. He wanted to blame someone for what was happening, and he held himself responsible as well as RoboCrook.
". . . I think I know now why I've been hanging around," he said at last, looking up at his friends.
Something gripped at Scott's heart. Whatever Elliott was going to say, Scott did not want to hear it. Somehow he knew that, just by the sad finality he could hear in Elliott's voice.
"All this time . . . I've just been denying the truth. . . . But I knew I was dying when RoboCrook hit me." Elliott clenched a fist. "I heard him laughing and I knew . . . and the last thing I thought was that I couldn't go like this. . . . I didn't want you guys to be back at ACME and get the phone call that . . . I'd been found. . . ."
Scott shook his head, his eyes wide and agonized. He could only mouth a weak "No" as his shoulders trembled.
"I didn't remember after everything went dark . . . but I stuck around to say goodbye." Elliott looked from Scott to Sean and Barry. Slowly Barry lowered his head, his expression sobered and solemn. Sean's eyes widened.
And Scott did not want to accept it.
"No!" he exclaimed. "Don't say that!" His heart twisted. "Don't go. . . ."
He had felt helpless many times. As the Dying Informant, he had to wonder if every mission where he was waylaid would be his last. From one day to the next he did not know if he would live through it. But that uncertainty, and the pain of slowly dying from the wounds V.I.L.E.'s agents inflicted, was far more preferable than the anguish of seeing his best friend dead.
"You know I'd stay if I could," Elliott said, his voice and eyes filled with sorrow. "I don't think I have a choice." Now that he had realized why he had lingered, he could feel his spirit beginning to fade from this realm. He shimmered, lightly-colored mists beginning to encircle his form. As he held up his hand, staring at it, the same mists began to swirl around it.
Scott could see it, too. "Fight it, El!" he begged. "It can't be your time! You have to fight it!"
"That's right!" Sean exclaimed. "We could still save you! The ACME doctors should be able to do something . . . !" Of course none of them really knew how bad Elliott's injuries had been. All that they knew for certain was that his neck and back were not broken. So many other things could be wrong, but Sean did not want to focus on that. He wanted to focus only on the possibility of Elliott remaining with them, alive and eventually well.
Barry looked over, agonized as well. "Elliott . . ." But he was not certain what to say or how to say it. Usually he studied a situation in silence before making a sometimes helpful, sometimes wry comment. This time his mind was blank. He knew what he wanted to say; Sean and Scott were already saying it. And he knew he was afraid that Elliott would not be able to stay no matter how hard he tried.
But Barry did not need to speak. Elliott understood.
A new pang stabbed into his soul as he saw the others' agony and desperation. He reached out, clawing at the air, wanting to be able to grab hold of them and be pulled back into the mortal realm.
"I don't want to be dead!" he screamed.
"How touching."
The cold, robotic voice sent icy chills into all of the ACME agents. They whirled in shock, looking to where RoboCrook was coming towards them. And then Scott's feelings overtook all rationality.
"You!" he cried, his voice filled with hate. He lunged forward before Sean or Barry could restrain him, his dark trenchcoat flying out in the breeze.
RoboCrook easily sidestepped the attack. "You humans are far too emotional," he said.
"You killed Elliott!" Scott burst out, his voice climbing.
RoboCrook raised his arm, shooting a laser blast. Scott leaped out of the way, but only barely in time. Splinters rained on his feet from a newly-shattered crate.
"Scott, no!" Elliott exclaimed in horror. "You'll end up like me!" And usually Scott was so in control of himself. If one of them was going to lose control, it was generally Elliott himself, in a fit of anger and grief. But now something inside Scott had broke. He was charging at RoboCrook again, and now Sean and Barry were running after him.
The cruel android smirked. "Haha," he said, shooting off more lasers at their feet. Almost in a bizarre dance, they jumped and twisted out of the way.
Sean grabbed a nearby metal pole as he dodged another laser bolt. "We are taking you down," he said, his voice cold and drastically unlike his usual, mischievous self.
"You're under arrest," Barry added, suddenly coming upon RoboCrook from behind.
"In the name of ACME Crimenet." Scott lunged at RoboCrook from the side, at the last moment pulling the standard-issue gun that all of them carried but rarely used. With so many attacking at once, the robot's attention was divided. Scott fired, the bullet driving into the metal arm. RoboCrook stiffened, whirling to punch Scott with his good arm.
Sean brought the metal pole down on RoboCrook's head. "We're overloading his circuits!" he cried. "Finish it off, Barry!"
Before RoboCrook had a chance to turn and see what Barry was going to do, the bassman was pointing a taser at the metal body. As he pulled the trigger, electricity shot into RoboCrook.
"AUUUGH!"
Sean and Barry leaped out of the way at the electronic scream. RoboCrook staggered, sparks flying in all directions. Raising his arm, he grabbed for the nearest human to him---and that happened to be Scott, trying to sneak up on him for one final assault. His eyes widened in pain as the remains of the electricity channeled into him as well. RoboCrook sneered, pleased, and began to lift the blond off the ground. Gritting his teeth, Scott threw several small, round disks at RoboCrook in spite of the immense pain coursing through his body. They landed on RoboCrook's hat.
"Scott!" Sean stared in horror. He and Barry could not touch RoboCrook right now; they would only be electrocuted too. But Sean was still holding the pole, which he had brought with him upon leaping away. Now he threw it with all his might. If it could just hit RoboCrook . . . and shatter his concentration long enough for Scott to get free. . . .
Barry grabbed Sean's arm as the pole went flying. "Sean . . . look!" he said.
Something in his tone made Sean immediately follow his gaze. Elliott had gotten in between Scott and RoboCrook, the remaining essence of his spirit blocking all further attempts at shocking Scott as he kept his arms protectively around the blond. As Sean's pole slammed into RoboCrook's back, Scott was released, crashing onto some nearby crates.
The blond groaned. His head was pounding. He must have hit it on something during his fall. Already he was sinking out of consciousness. But he could still hear Elliott's voice from somewhere nearby.
"It's okay, Scott. It's really okay! You did just fine."
"El . . ." Scott whispered as the darkness fell.
Even in death, his friend had tried to protect him.
****
"Scott?"
"Scott, can you hear us?"
The familiar voices penetrated Scott's consciousness. Weakly he forced his eyes open. Sean and Barry were leaning over him, obviously worried.
". . . How long have I been out?" he managed to ask, moving a hand to his head as quickly as he could. It was pounding. His eyes did not feel so great right now, either.
"A minute or two," Sean said. "That was quick thinking on your part---throwing those magnets at Robo to short out his computer!"
Scott blinked. "Did he go down yet?"
"Right after he dropped you," Sean said. "He turned to face me and Barry and then just . . . signed out." He smirked, but it was clearly forced. "I'm not voting to get him a new motherboard."
The rest of the memories flooded back. "El!" Scott cried, sitting up straight despite the shooting pain. "El was there, protecting me when Robo was trying to electrocute me. . . ." Ice crept into his veins at the sudden looks of sorrow from his other friends.
". . . Elliott's gone," Barry said at last.
Sean nodded. ". . . After he saw you were okay, he . . . he faded away," he said. "He was already almost gone by the time he broke free to go to you . . ."
Overwhelming anguish washed over Scott as he struggled to process this. "H-he said he stuck around to say goodbye," he said at last. ". . . And then when we were in trouble, that bound him here too. . . ."
He forced himself to get up in spite of the pain. But he swayed, the wooden-planked floor seeming to tilt up to knock him off-balance. Sean and Barry were immediately at his sides, grabbing his arms to hold him up.
With their support, Scott stumbled back to where they had left Elliott's body. But the sight of the cold, lifeless form sent any strength out of Scott's legs. He fell to his knees, the sob that had been building finally tearing free.
Elliott was not there now. He had gone on to whatever afterlife awaited him---and Scott knew it would be good. He was free of pain. But they had lost him.
"It wasn't supposed to be this way," Scott choked out. "It wasn't . . . !" Shaking, he picked up Elliott's abandoned fedora. For a long moment he stared at it, clutching the edges so tightly it was a wonder they did not permanently crease. In that moment so many memories teased him in his mind, flitting past before becoming entangled with all the rest.
Snow falling on his head from the tree in Central Park . . . El's good-natured laugh about it . . . Scott throwing a snowball at him. . . .
Their crazy antics at ACME. . . . Trying to fly like Superman . . . dancing on the map . . . the marble accidentally breaking. . . .
All just memories now. And there never would be any more of them.
El was gone.
Elliott had been growing so discouraged and heartsick over everything that had kept happening to them on their assignments. . . . Scott had tried to comfort him, even though he had known he could not say that they would always come out of their misfortunes alive and kicking.
And now it was El who had not come out of it alright.
Scott reached out, laying the fedora on Elliott's head. That was where it belonged.
"We . . . we'd better take him and go," he said at last.
Sean nodded, reaching for his phone to call for another car to take RoboCrook. There would not be room for all of them and RoboCrook in the car. And they were taking Elliott with them. They would not turn him over to the morgue until they were back at ACME.
Suddenly Scott noticed that Elliott's left hand was positioned uncomfortably on top of a crate's corner. Frowning, he leaned over to move it. A shiver went up his spine as he took the clammy hand in his own. But then he could scarcely believe what he was feeling.
The fingers had given a weak jerk and then had started to curl.
Scott cried out in shock. "El?!" he half-wailed. Could he really have felt that? Was it possible?
Sean nearly jumped off the pier. "What is it?!" he exclaimed, pulling the phone away from his ear.
"It's El!" Scott exclaimed. "He . . . he moved! His hand moved just now, when I . . ."
Barry frowned. "It couldn't have been because he . . ." But he trailed off. Scott was searching for a pulse, his eyes wide and pleading.
"Look!" Scott cried. "There's a pulse! Right here---you can feel it!" He indicated Elliott's wrist.
Still skeptical, yet longing to believe, Sean reached to touch the spot. He stiffened. ". . . It's weak, but it's there," he said. "We don't need the morgue; we need an ambulance! He's come back." He shook his head in stunned amazement and joy. "He's come back. . . ."
They could still lose him, depending on how serious his injuries were. Because of that, Sean was not sure that he could fully give in to the hope that was swiftly beginning to build. But now there was a chance. He grabbed the phone again as Barry leaned over to feel the spot for himself.
Scott gave a shaky smile as he watched. He could see the slow rise and fall of Elliott's shoulders and back. Elliott was breathing.
And somehow he knew---they were not going to lose him.
****
Greg was still at ACME when they arrived. He could hardly believe it when the doors burst open, admitting the ACME medics wheeling Elliott in on a stretcher while Scott, Sean, and Barry ran in alongside.
"You found him?!" Greg gasped, getting up to hurry after them as they made their way towards the ACME infirmary.
Scott nodded. "It's a long story, but we did!" he said. "He was dead then, but he came back! He's going to be okay!"
Sean could only pray that was true. They could not follow through the doors of the emergency room. He came to a stop as the medics pushed Elliott through, the doors swinging shut behind them.
The next couple of hours were a flurry of activity, waiting, and worry. Greg stayed with them for a good portion of the time, though he was then called out on a new case. Reluctantly he left, but not before making them promise to call him when Elliott woke up. When they were finally allowed to see Elliott, back in a quiet room, they were all ready to drop. But none of them could think of sleeping yet.
Scott crossed his arms on the bed railing. "I'm going to stay here until he wakes up," he vowed. Elliott was laying on the mattress, his head turned to the side. He was wearing a dark red robe in addition to the white gauze around his forehead and his right arm. His left arm was on top of the covers, the little monitor for the machines clamped over his forefinger.
"That might not be for a while," Barry said. "He's had a rough experience."
Sean nodded, crossing his arms. Of course when Elliott woke up he would object to that statement, saying that the others had had it much worse because in addition to everything they had suffered before, they could only watch and worry while he remained unconscious and unaware.
"I'm staying anyway," Scott said. "You guys can go if you want."
"We're staying too," Sean said, pulling up a chair.
Barry nodded his agreement. They could not leave now.
Scott stared down at their friend. Even though it had not been that long of a period of time, it had seemed an eternity that Elliott had been intangible and translucent. Now, somehow, he had been restored to his body. Would he wake up with all of his memories intact? Would he think what had happened tonight was just a horrible dream? Maybe he would not remember it all. When he had first been a ghost, he had not been able to recall how it had happened.
". . . Hey," Scott frowned then, "why was RoboCrook still hanging around, anyway? Normally he would've been a thousand miles away after all that time."
Sean gave a grim, humourless smirk. "ACME scientists are still checking it out, but it looks like when he ran down Elliott he ended up damaging himself and the car in the collision," he said. "He was staying at the docks because he was trying to repair himself. Then I guess when he saw us, he decided to try taking us out, too."
"So his cruel act ended up being his undoing," Barry mused.
Sean nodded.
For a while they sat in silence, lost in their thoughts of the past few hours. But at last Elliott stirred, bringing everyone to attention.
It was strange, to finally open his eyes and see the ceiling up above him . . . to feel the mattress against his back . . . to hear the machines beeping behind him. But the strangest of all was when Scott leaned into his line of vision.
"El?!" he exclaimed. "El, you're awake!" And he joyously yet gently hugged his friend.
Elliott stiffened at the touch. ". . . I can feel this," he choked out, the awe obvious in his voice. He reached up with a shaking right hand, gripping at Scott as he returned the embrace with a half-hug.
Sean and Barry were instantly at the bedside. "El!" Sean greeted. "It's about time you woke up. We wondered if you were going to sleep through the rest of the night and the day too!"
Elliott managed a weak smirk as Scott pulled back. "So . . . how bad's the damage?" he asked.
Barry pretended to survey him. "A twisted ankle. Assorted cuts, scrapes, and bruises. Several cracked ribs," he said.
"And you're just lucky it's not a cracked skull," Sean said, pointing in emphasis at the bandage around Elliott's forehead. "You've got a pretty bad concussion."
"Yeah?" Elliott frowned. "I wonder if that's what killed me. . . ." He leaned into the pillow, looking up at the others. "After I . . . faded, I heard the Voice tell me that me being so determined to stay here while you guys needed help would save my life tonight. And he said that I'd be healed enough so I wouldn't have any permanent damage."
Scott looked confused. "The Voice healed me all the way that time he intervened when I died," he said.
Elliott tiredly raised a hand off the blanket in a shrugging manner. Maybe he was supposed to learn something from this. Or maybe the Voice had just gotten too bored or busy to finish the job.
Sean studied his childhood friend. "There's something more to it, isn't there?" he frowned.
Scott had suspected the same. "El . . . what is it?" he pleaded. He did not want secrets between them, not now. Barry was also giving Elliott an expectant look.
Elliott sighed. He had not wanted to tell the rest, mainly because he did not want the others to feel guilty or responsible in any way. But there was no way out of it now.
". . . Before that, when I was first fading and RoboCrook showed up, I was told that if I kept resisting death, I wouldn't end up in Heaven." Elliott frowned.
Scott stared. "You mean you'd go to . . ."
". . . I said I didn't care." Elliott looked to Scott, then the others. "I said I wouldn't leave until you guys were out of danger with RoboCrook. And I meant it."
Scott swallowed hard. He knew Elliott would have, too. And under the same circumstances, any one of them would have done the same thing.
"After what the Voice said later, I started thinking maybe it had really been some kind of test." Elliott frowned.
"Like of your loyalty?" Sean said.
"I guess," Elliott said. "Or how far I'd be willing to take it."
"And you passed it! But . . ." Scott suddenly felt sick. "What if it hadn't just been a test, El?" he gasped. "What if you'd really ended up in . . ."
Elliott shook his head. "Don't think about that," he said.
Scott gripped the metal railing. "But I can't not think about it," he objected. "It's horrible!"
". . . They never would have made Elliott go there," Barry spoke up. "Not when he doesn't deserve it at all."
"That's right," Sean said. He really had no idea what sort of policies were to be had in the afterlife, especially when it had not been that long ago that he had not even believed in an afterlife. But condemning Elliott to Hell was just not done. He was too good for such a fate.
Scott gave a slow nod. He knew he had to accept that for now and be thankful it had only been a test. But just the thought of it still bothered him. Elliott could have given up everything he had left in order to help them fight RoboCrook.
"Hey . . ." Elliott managed a weak grin. "I'm back." He reached up with his left hand, in spite of the annoying clamp on his index finger, and let his hand rest on Scott's forearm. "I'll get better and things will be just fine."
Scott could not help smiling too. It did not look as though Elliott would suffer any lasting scars from the experience . . . though Scott was certain that as for himself, he would always be haunted by the memories of seeing Elliott coming to him, panic-stricken by his ghostly state, then later beginning to accept the reality of the situation and finally starting to fade from the mortal plane.
Though Scott said nothing, Elliott seemed to realize this too. Deep regret flashed through his eyes. He gripped Scott's arm a bit tighter.
". . . You know, this has to be the most eerie Halloween we've ever spent," Sean remarked.
Elliott frowned. "That's right, it was Halloween, wasn't it." Somehow that made his venture as a ghost even more unsettling. He gave a lopsided smirk. "I don't think I want to celebrate like this again."
"We'd better not!" Scott retorted, knowing that Elliott was cracking a joke as a way of dealing with how disturbed he and the others felt.
"Just give us a nice, normal mystery to solve, like the Contessa stealing Baskerville Hall or Kneemoi running off with Dr. Frankenstein's research," Sean chimed in.
"Don't jinx us," Barry said in a complete deadpan.
Elliott chuckled.
Home sweet home.
****
At some point after their reunion, Scott must have dozed. He found himself starting awake, his arms still crossed on the railing. For a moment he sat there, breathing heavily as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the room. It was coming back to him now---he had been dreaming of what had happened earlier that night. Elliott had faded away . . . and had not come back.
He looked down at the bed, half-expecting to see that Elliott was not there. But he was---and he was at least half-awake. He was looking at Scott, concern in his eyes.
"Hey . . . are you okay?" he asked.
Scott gave a shaky nod. "Y-yeah, I think so. . . ." He pushed himself upright. "What about you?"
"I'm just fine," Elliott reassured him. ". . . You were dreaming about what happened, weren't you?"
". . . I was," Scott admitted.
"I did, too." Elliott sounded far away.
"It was horrible." Scott's voice was hushed.
Elliott nodded. ". . . I'm still trying to realize that I'm actually back," he said. "It seems too incredible to be real."
Scott swallowed. "Did you really think you were going to end up in . . . in Hell?" he asked. It was still bothering him.
"I'm not sure." Elliott frowned. "I knew that didn't sound right or fair, but it was what I was told. I wasn't thinking much about it, though. I just wanted to join the fight."
"If you'd really stopped to think . . ."
"I still would've done the same thing," Elliott interrupted.
Scott knew that was true. He shook his head. "We wouldn't have even known," he said, haunted by the thought.
"I didn't want you to know at all," Elliott said.
For a moment they were quiet, the beeping of the machines the only sound. Then Scott spoke again.
"El . . . I never did thank you for helping me out back there," he said. "You were right---I let myself lose control. I could've gotten myself killed."
"I would've flipped out too." Elliott gave a small smile. "And hey . . . what are friends for?"
Scott leaned back, sweeping his wild blond curls away from his face. "Where's Sean and Barry?" he asked, suddenly fully realizing that the others were not there.
"I think they went to get something to eat and call Greg," Elliott said. "Why don't you go catch up?"
Scott shook his head. "I'm not hungry," he said. A monstrous yawn tore from his lips.
Elliott laughed. "But you're tired," he said. "There's an empty bed here. Lay down and get some decent sleep."
"Maybe I will," Scott said. But he kept sitting there.
"Scott . . ." Elliott looked to him. "I'm really sorry for everything I put you and the others through tonight. If I could take it back, I would."
Scott started, looking back to him. "It wasn't your fault!" he exclaimed. "And El, you're not a failure," he added, remembering Elliott's bitter revelations on what he thought of himself. "Please don't think of yourself like that. . . ."
Elliott was silent for a moment. "I'll consider it, if you'll consider not thinking of yourself as one, either," he said then.
Scott allowed a bit of a smirk. "I should've seen that coming," he said.
Elliott watched him. "Deal?" he asked, holding up his hand.
Scott shook his head in mock exasperation. "Okay, it's a deal," he agreed, reaching to grasp Elliott's hand to shake on it.
This time their hands did not pass through each other.