Alive Beneath the Snow, 1/5
Title: Alive Beneath the Snow, chapter one
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Rating: T/PG-13
Word Count: 2,909
Main Characters: Fictional Rockapella (Sean, Scott, Elliott, Barry)
Supporting Characters: Vic the Slick
Summary: When Vic is in trouble, Sean rescues him---only to discover that no good deed goes unpunished.
Will be posted to 10_hurt_comfort.
Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Alive Beneath the Snow
By Lucky_Ladybug
Notes: The characters are not mine and the story is! It was inspired by an idea from Lizzie (thanks, girl!) and the prompts Serious Illness, Miracle, and Collapse/Fainting, though it's only being written for Serious Illness. And I was still writing this as of June 25th; hence, any little references to another singer's songs were added as a deliberate tribute. As always, fictional Rockapella only! No Real Person fic here! Many thanks to Lizzie, Kaze, and Crystal Rose for plot help!
Chapter One
"There he goes!"
Scott tore ahead, running after their felon. It was not hard to know which way to go, even in the dark; the footsteps echoed up and down a hall that likely had not been inhabited by humans for centuries. He held onto his raven hat, his matching trenchcoat billowing out behind him as he flew over the old tiles.
But the others were right on his heels. Sean soon overtook him, dashing through the ancient structure's corridor and over the broken pieces of walls and pillars laying in their way. Moon and star light shone through the various openings, eerily illuminating the ghosts and shadows of the abandoned Indian temple.
"Give up, Vic!" Sean called. "You know you're going to be caught anyway. Why prolong the Chase?"
"Why prolong your own defeat?" the salesman called back. He did not slow his speed, the purloined statue clutched in his hands. Stuffing it into his jacket, he grabbed hold of a long and thick vine that was growing through an unnatural window in the wall. Wrapping his hands and legs around the plant, he began to ascend.
Sean's mouth dropped open. "I never imagined you being so nimble," he commented.
"A guy does crazy things to stay out of jail!" Vic said, shimmying through the window. High above him, the vine was wrapped around the old balcony---which was impossible for humans to access any other way. A smirk crossed the crooked man's features. He could get on the balcony, pull up the vine, and then go down the other side using the thing.
Sean muttered under his breath. The vine was swaying back and forth as Vic climbed it like a rope. There was no choice. The detective grabbed hold of the plant too, clutching it for a moment before taking a deep breath and hoisting himself onto it. As the others caught up to him, he pulled himself up hand over hand.
"Sean?!" Elliott exclaimed in concern. "Is that safe?"
"It feels pretty thick," Sean called back. "But I don't know what the balcony will be like. You guys better stay back until I test it out."
Elliott frowned. He did not like that idea, but Sean was right. He sighed, crossing his arms. To his side, Scott and Barry were also observing the ascent.
Vic muttered to himself as soon as he felt the extra tug on the vine. "Oh great," he growled. Now he would have to worry about what to do to get rid of the guy. He had a head start, but he would have to find another way down since the ACME agent was using the vine. He would probably have to cut it off.
Reaching the top of the balcony, he climbed over the edge and stood, pulling a knife out of his pocket. The blade gleamed under the stars as he held it up to the vine. But then a frown passed over his features. The thing was so thick that cutting it could be very time-consuming. Was it worth it? He turned, quickly surveying his surroundings. Then he grinned again. He could get down right now. There were other vines all over the opposite side of the balcony. Leaving Sean to keep pulling himself up, the smooth criminal closed the knife and slipped it back into his pocket as he ran forward.
"You're too slow, Sergeant Friday!" he taunted. "I'm beatin' it!"
But before Sean could reply, a much different cry split the musty air. The balcony had been even more rickety than Sean had thought. As soon as Vic took another step on the age-old stone, it crumbled underneath him, sending him plunging through to thin air. In desperation he reached up, gripping the edge of the cold hole.
"Help!" he cried, his voice laced with panic.
Sean frowned. He was just coming to the balcony now. The vine and the railing it was wound around still seemed to be holding, but if he tried to pull Vic up, who knew what would happen. They could both fall to certain death. And Scott, Elliott, and Barry would be right there, witnessing it. Still, there was no other choice for a decent human being to make. He had to try. Maybe if they fell, the others could catch them and no one would get hurt.
He drew up his knees on the railing, leaning forward as he continued to grip the vine. "I don't know if I can reach down far enough!" he called. Vic's hands were just out of his grasp, and the salesman could not hold on much longer.
"You've gotta!" Vic yelped. "You're a detective. Think of something! I'll give you a gold watch for it!"
"Gold-plated is more like it," Sean said under his breath. He bent down further, feeling the railing start to creak under his weight. "Come on, hold on just a little longer!" he hissed, speaking both to it and to Vic. Again he reached out, struggling to grab Vic's wrist.
"Sean! What's going on up there?!"
He gritted his teeth. He could not take the time to reply to his worried friends.
There! He had managed to wrap his hands around Vic's wrist. He pulled, fighting to bring the other man to safety. At last Vic started to rise. Sean rocked back, still keeping hold of the vine with his other hand.
"Vic started to fall," he called to the others at last. "We're both coming down on the vine. Hold it steady, will you?"
Down below, Elliott grabbed the last section of it. "Sure," he said. "I've got it." Scott and Barry took hold of it as well. "We've got it," Elliott corrected.
"Good!" Sean said. Vic was grabbing onto his wrist now, his legs flailing as he tried to get his footing on the edge of the balcony. The taller man pulled him closer, forcing Vic to kneel on the rim of the hole.
"This is going to be awkward," Sean said with a grim smirk. "You'd better keep an arm around me."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Vic said, still shaken from the experience. It was a steep drop from where he would have fallen.
Sean straightened up, drawing an arm around Vic's back. In turn, Vic struggled to stand, his legs still wobbling, and grabbed onto his rescuer. As Sean pushed off the railing, Vic slammed against him.
Something hard and sharp dug into Sean's chest. He winced at the pain, clutching tighter at Vic and the vine as they began to descend. It must be that stupid statue, he decided. The claws had looked pretty painful. He wanted to tell Vic to move so the pressure would be released, but it would be better to just get down as soon as was possible.
He slid down the vine with the V.I.L.E. agent, landing on his feet next to the others. They looked back, relieved to see him safe.
"That was too close," Elliott said with a shudder.
"No kidding," Sean said. "I never want to go through that again."
Scott gave their leader a quick hug. "And you'd better never have to," he said.
Barry nodded agreement, snapping handcuffs on the protesting Vic.
Sean returned Scott's hug, watching Barry in approval. "We are out of here!" he declared.
Barry reached into Vic's jacket, pulling out the statue. "And the cat goes back the very next day," he deadpanned.
Vic glowered, but then looked down at the green plaid material in horror. "Oh no!" he moaned. "That thing tore my jacket!"
"You really need a new one anyway," Sean said, his tone light.
But as they turned to head back through the temple, he paused to examine himself under a beam of moonlight. His bluish-purple dress shirt was torn through too, right where he had felt the sharp pain. He poked a finger through one of the three parallel rips. "Just a scratch," he murmured to himself. Holding his finger up to the light, he smiled and shrugged. "It's not even bleeding."
"Sean?"
He started, looking up at Scott's voice. His second-in-command had paused, looking over at him.
Sean waved. "Coming!" he called, hurrying to catch up.
****
The flight back to ACME was uneventful.
Scott and Elliott eventually slumped against each other and dozed, worn out from the long Chase across the second-most populated country in the world.
Sean and Barry remained wide awake with their prisoner. Vic said very little, apparently too worried about his jacket---or upset at being caught. Sean was not sure which, and he did not care. Vic could stay completely taciturn. It would be a relief to not hear him whining or trying to con everyone he met. He had given Sean an IOU on the watch, which Sean had slipped into his pocket without a second thought.
He rubbed his suddenly-scratchy eyes as he stared out the window at their surroundings. Flying to New York from India would take some time, especially when they were on a non-stop flight courtesy of an ACME jet. But at least it afforded them their privacy. And it kept Vic from trying to scam all on the airplane---which he actually had tried to do once, when they had been on a commercial flight. Not even the handcuffs had deterred him.
"It looks like Vic's jacket wasn't the only thing that cat tore."
Sean started, looking up at Barry's matter-of-fact voice. "It's nothing," he said, glancing at the rips in his shirt. "I'll just pack it off to ACME Sewingnet and soon it'll be good as new."
Barry looked amused. "Or you could just sew it yourself," he commented.
"No time for that," Sean said. "There's snowballs to throw, Greg to tease, Chases to enact and song parodies to write!"
Barry was further amused, but he just shook his head. "It shouldn't take longer than ten minutes, if done properly."
"Then I should have it back within a day of our arrival," Sean smirked, placing his hands behind his head.
Barry gave up. ". . . You should try to sleep," he said. "You look exhausted."
"My mind's too active to sleep," Sean sighed. He gave Barry a side-long glance. "I've been thinking about things. . . . Things like how ACME agents have to risk their safety and lives for anyone in trouble, even crooks."
"That's a heavy subject," Barry grunted.
Sean nodded. "I was wondering if the vine and the balcony would hold when I climbed up to get Vic," he admitted. "There was a chance we could've both plunged to very painful, gruesome deaths. Before today, I never really thought about the fact that I might end up sacrificing myself for a criminal." He frowned. "I always wondered whether I might have to lay down my life for my friends---you, Scott, El . . . even Greg or other agents. I'd be okay with that. I mean . . ." He rubbed at his right knee. "I'd hate to leave you guys that way, but I'd feel like I accomplished something worthwhile. If I gave up my mortal existence for some crook who wouldn't care anyway, I'd feel like I'd gone and kicked the bucket without serving any particular purpose, and that I'd be leaving you guys in unnecessary and preventable agony."
Barry gave a slow nod. ". . . We'd . . . I'd hate to see you die to save anyone, us or other agents or criminals," he said. "But . . . even if it was the latter, it would still serve a purpose. You would be being true to yourself. You can't let anyone die if you know you can do something about it."
A wry smirk came over Sean's features. "Too true," he mused. "That's me, a softie to the core. Sometimes I hate that about myself. It has the potential to get any or all of us into a lot of trouble. I nearly died in L.A. because of trying to save a crook."
Barry clenched a fist at the memories. He and Scott and Elliott had all gone to Los Angeles to claim their leader's body after receiving the news that Sean had suffocated. It was still one of the experiences that haunted Barry more than almost anything else, though he had never said so aloud.
"You wouldn't be you without that part of yourself," he said at last. "And if you weren't concerned about everyone's well-being, you wouldn't be a good friend."
"So if I didn't try to save a crook, I wouldn't be a good friend?" Sean said, his voice somewhat derisive.
"The reason you feel like that is because of your compassion," Barry told him. "I'd rather have that than a man who would just let them die because they're criminals."
Sean snorted. "I guess."
He rubbed his eyes again. Strange, it was Elliott who had trouble with allergies, but now it felt like he was getting them. His eyes were so scratchy. . . .
"Hey, El," he said, looking to his semi-aware childhood friend, "can I borrow your eyedrops?"
"Huh?" Elliott opened one eye. "Sure. . . ."
"Thanks." Sean got up and walked across the aisle, reaching over Elliott to the ceiling compartment. As he pulled out Elliott's backpack, he opened and rifled through it in search of the medication.
"Wheat crackers . . . toothbrush . . . toothpaste. . . . Aha!" He smirked in triumph, pulling the bottle of eyedrops out of the bag. He unscrewed the lid and tipped his head back, squeezing a drop into each eye. Then he closed and replaced the vial in the backpack and shoved it into the overhead compartment.
Elliott was barely aware of any of it. His eyes fell closed as he slumped further against Scott.
Barry crossed his arms, observing Sean's actions. Feeling eyes watching him, Sean turned and shrugged. "Must have been something in the air," he said.
"Must have been," Barry said.
****
Whatever was in the air continued to plague Sean on the way home. The eyedrops did little good; his eyes felt as miserable as ever. His back was rebelling, too---unhappy with sitting up straight. And his body was aching all over from the long day and exhausting Chase. At last he reclined his seat and pulled his hat down, falling into a light and uneasy sleep. Barry remained quiet and read a book, not wanting to disturb him.
By the time they at last landed in New York, Sean's slumber had deepened. Barry looked to him, still asleep with his arms crossed on his chest. He had not even stirred when the seatbelt light had come on. Barry had needed to lean over and fix it on him.
"Sean," Barry said now, keeping his voice low. "We're here."
Sean did not stir, his breathing quiet and even.
Elliott, now wide awake, turned to look. "A trip like this one really does wear you out," he said.
Scott nodded in agreement. "We must've been conked out like that earlier," he said.
Barry matter-of-factly said, "You were." Then, turning his attention back to Sean, he grasped the younger man's shoulder. "Sean?"
Sean started awake, his eyes flying open as he all but launched himself out of the seat. His hat fell back on his head, revealing his startled expression.
Barry sighed. "We're here," he said.
Sean looked to him, blinking away the last of the sleep-induced bleariness. ". . . Oh," he said. "Good." He clicked open the seatbelt and eased himself up, grabbing onto the headrest of the seat in front of him.
Vic looked to him from where he was sitting several rows away. "I dunno how you agents can sleep like babies," he complained. "This flight's been too turbulent to give any normal guy a good rest!"
"Turbulent, eh?" Sean muttered as he straightened. "I guess that's why I kept dreaming about a rocking boat."
Elliott snickered, getting up as well.
Scott reached up to get his bag down from the overhead compartment. "That's Sean," he said. "Always ready with the perfect comeback."
"Of course," said Sean, opening his own ceiling bin. "Someone has to show up these V.I.L.E. agents." As he pulled out his backpack, he stumbled, knocking into the seat ahead of him.
Barry frowned in concern as he stood. "Are you alright?" he asked.
"Fine," Sean said, slinging the backpack strap over his shoulder. "Just a little disoriented. My body must still think I'm on that boat."
Barry gave a slow, uncertain nod. Sean's eyes still looked red and glassy. He was absently reaching to rub at them, obviously bothered. And as he shuffled into the aisle, he stumbled again. Still, he did not seem too much the worse for wear; he was starting to whistle Big Wet Rag as he herded Vic ahead of him to the door.
Elliott looked to Scott as they followed. "Do you think he's trying to tell Vic something?" he said in a loud whisper.
Scott snarked. "Probably," he said.
Barry allowed a slight smirk of amusement.
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Rating: T/PG-13
Word Count: 2,909
Main Characters: Fictional Rockapella (Sean, Scott, Elliott, Barry)
Supporting Characters: Vic the Slick
Summary: When Vic is in trouble, Sean rescues him---only to discover that no good deed goes unpunished.
Will be posted to 10_hurt_comfort.
Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Alive Beneath the Snow
By Lucky_Ladybug
Notes: The characters are not mine and the story is! It was inspired by an idea from Lizzie (thanks, girl!) and the prompts Serious Illness, Miracle, and Collapse/Fainting, though it's only being written for Serious Illness. And I was still writing this as of June 25th; hence, any little references to another singer's songs were added as a deliberate tribute. As always, fictional Rockapella only! No Real Person fic here! Many thanks to Lizzie, Kaze, and Crystal Rose for plot help!
Chapter One
"There he goes!"
Scott tore ahead, running after their felon. It was not hard to know which way to go, even in the dark; the footsteps echoed up and down a hall that likely had not been inhabited by humans for centuries. He held onto his raven hat, his matching trenchcoat billowing out behind him as he flew over the old tiles.
But the others were right on his heels. Sean soon overtook him, dashing through the ancient structure's corridor and over the broken pieces of walls and pillars laying in their way. Moon and star light shone through the various openings, eerily illuminating the ghosts and shadows of the abandoned Indian temple.
"Give up, Vic!" Sean called. "You know you're going to be caught anyway. Why prolong the Chase?"
"Why prolong your own defeat?" the salesman called back. He did not slow his speed, the purloined statue clutched in his hands. Stuffing it into his jacket, he grabbed hold of a long and thick vine that was growing through an unnatural window in the wall. Wrapping his hands and legs around the plant, he began to ascend.
Sean's mouth dropped open. "I never imagined you being so nimble," he commented.
"A guy does crazy things to stay out of jail!" Vic said, shimmying through the window. High above him, the vine was wrapped around the old balcony---which was impossible for humans to access any other way. A smirk crossed the crooked man's features. He could get on the balcony, pull up the vine, and then go down the other side using the thing.
Sean muttered under his breath. The vine was swaying back and forth as Vic climbed it like a rope. There was no choice. The detective grabbed hold of the plant too, clutching it for a moment before taking a deep breath and hoisting himself onto it. As the others caught up to him, he pulled himself up hand over hand.
"Sean?!" Elliott exclaimed in concern. "Is that safe?"
"It feels pretty thick," Sean called back. "But I don't know what the balcony will be like. You guys better stay back until I test it out."
Elliott frowned. He did not like that idea, but Sean was right. He sighed, crossing his arms. To his side, Scott and Barry were also observing the ascent.
Vic muttered to himself as soon as he felt the extra tug on the vine. "Oh great," he growled. Now he would have to worry about what to do to get rid of the guy. He had a head start, but he would have to find another way down since the ACME agent was using the vine. He would probably have to cut it off.
Reaching the top of the balcony, he climbed over the edge and stood, pulling a knife out of his pocket. The blade gleamed under the stars as he held it up to the vine. But then a frown passed over his features. The thing was so thick that cutting it could be very time-consuming. Was it worth it? He turned, quickly surveying his surroundings. Then he grinned again. He could get down right now. There were other vines all over the opposite side of the balcony. Leaving Sean to keep pulling himself up, the smooth criminal closed the knife and slipped it back into his pocket as he ran forward.
"You're too slow, Sergeant Friday!" he taunted. "I'm beatin' it!"
But before Sean could reply, a much different cry split the musty air. The balcony had been even more rickety than Sean had thought. As soon as Vic took another step on the age-old stone, it crumbled underneath him, sending him plunging through to thin air. In desperation he reached up, gripping the edge of the cold hole.
"Help!" he cried, his voice laced with panic.
Sean frowned. He was just coming to the balcony now. The vine and the railing it was wound around still seemed to be holding, but if he tried to pull Vic up, who knew what would happen. They could both fall to certain death. And Scott, Elliott, and Barry would be right there, witnessing it. Still, there was no other choice for a decent human being to make. He had to try. Maybe if they fell, the others could catch them and no one would get hurt.
He drew up his knees on the railing, leaning forward as he continued to grip the vine. "I don't know if I can reach down far enough!" he called. Vic's hands were just out of his grasp, and the salesman could not hold on much longer.
"You've gotta!" Vic yelped. "You're a detective. Think of something! I'll give you a gold watch for it!"
"Gold-plated is more like it," Sean said under his breath. He bent down further, feeling the railing start to creak under his weight. "Come on, hold on just a little longer!" he hissed, speaking both to it and to Vic. Again he reached out, struggling to grab Vic's wrist.
"Sean! What's going on up there?!"
He gritted his teeth. He could not take the time to reply to his worried friends.
There! He had managed to wrap his hands around Vic's wrist. He pulled, fighting to bring the other man to safety. At last Vic started to rise. Sean rocked back, still keeping hold of the vine with his other hand.
"Vic started to fall," he called to the others at last. "We're both coming down on the vine. Hold it steady, will you?"
Down below, Elliott grabbed the last section of it. "Sure," he said. "I've got it." Scott and Barry took hold of it as well. "We've got it," Elliott corrected.
"Good!" Sean said. Vic was grabbing onto his wrist now, his legs flailing as he tried to get his footing on the edge of the balcony. The taller man pulled him closer, forcing Vic to kneel on the rim of the hole.
"This is going to be awkward," Sean said with a grim smirk. "You'd better keep an arm around me."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Vic said, still shaken from the experience. It was a steep drop from where he would have fallen.
Sean straightened up, drawing an arm around Vic's back. In turn, Vic struggled to stand, his legs still wobbling, and grabbed onto his rescuer. As Sean pushed off the railing, Vic slammed against him.
Something hard and sharp dug into Sean's chest. He winced at the pain, clutching tighter at Vic and the vine as they began to descend. It must be that stupid statue, he decided. The claws had looked pretty painful. He wanted to tell Vic to move so the pressure would be released, but it would be better to just get down as soon as was possible.
He slid down the vine with the V.I.L.E. agent, landing on his feet next to the others. They looked back, relieved to see him safe.
"That was too close," Elliott said with a shudder.
"No kidding," Sean said. "I never want to go through that again."
Scott gave their leader a quick hug. "And you'd better never have to," he said.
Barry nodded agreement, snapping handcuffs on the protesting Vic.
Sean returned Scott's hug, watching Barry in approval. "We are out of here!" he declared.
Barry reached into Vic's jacket, pulling out the statue. "And the cat goes back the very next day," he deadpanned.
Vic glowered, but then looked down at the green plaid material in horror. "Oh no!" he moaned. "That thing tore my jacket!"
"You really need a new one anyway," Sean said, his tone light.
But as they turned to head back through the temple, he paused to examine himself under a beam of moonlight. His bluish-purple dress shirt was torn through too, right where he had felt the sharp pain. He poked a finger through one of the three parallel rips. "Just a scratch," he murmured to himself. Holding his finger up to the light, he smiled and shrugged. "It's not even bleeding."
"Sean?"
He started, looking up at Scott's voice. His second-in-command had paused, looking over at him.
Sean waved. "Coming!" he called, hurrying to catch up.
****
The flight back to ACME was uneventful.
Scott and Elliott eventually slumped against each other and dozed, worn out from the long Chase across the second-most populated country in the world.
Sean and Barry remained wide awake with their prisoner. Vic said very little, apparently too worried about his jacket---or upset at being caught. Sean was not sure which, and he did not care. Vic could stay completely taciturn. It would be a relief to not hear him whining or trying to con everyone he met. He had given Sean an IOU on the watch, which Sean had slipped into his pocket without a second thought.
He rubbed his suddenly-scratchy eyes as he stared out the window at their surroundings. Flying to New York from India would take some time, especially when they were on a non-stop flight courtesy of an ACME jet. But at least it afforded them their privacy. And it kept Vic from trying to scam all on the airplane---which he actually had tried to do once, when they had been on a commercial flight. Not even the handcuffs had deterred him.
"It looks like Vic's jacket wasn't the only thing that cat tore."
Sean started, looking up at Barry's matter-of-fact voice. "It's nothing," he said, glancing at the rips in his shirt. "I'll just pack it off to ACME Sewingnet and soon it'll be good as new."
Barry looked amused. "Or you could just sew it yourself," he commented.
"No time for that," Sean said. "There's snowballs to throw, Greg to tease, Chases to enact and song parodies to write!"
Barry was further amused, but he just shook his head. "It shouldn't take longer than ten minutes, if done properly."
"Then I should have it back within a day of our arrival," Sean smirked, placing his hands behind his head.
Barry gave up. ". . . You should try to sleep," he said. "You look exhausted."
"My mind's too active to sleep," Sean sighed. He gave Barry a side-long glance. "I've been thinking about things. . . . Things like how ACME agents have to risk their safety and lives for anyone in trouble, even crooks."
"That's a heavy subject," Barry grunted.
Sean nodded. "I was wondering if the vine and the balcony would hold when I climbed up to get Vic," he admitted. "There was a chance we could've both plunged to very painful, gruesome deaths. Before today, I never really thought about the fact that I might end up sacrificing myself for a criminal." He frowned. "I always wondered whether I might have to lay down my life for my friends---you, Scott, El . . . even Greg or other agents. I'd be okay with that. I mean . . ." He rubbed at his right knee. "I'd hate to leave you guys that way, but I'd feel like I accomplished something worthwhile. If I gave up my mortal existence for some crook who wouldn't care anyway, I'd feel like I'd gone and kicked the bucket without serving any particular purpose, and that I'd be leaving you guys in unnecessary and preventable agony."
Barry gave a slow nod. ". . . We'd . . . I'd hate to see you die to save anyone, us or other agents or criminals," he said. "But . . . even if it was the latter, it would still serve a purpose. You would be being true to yourself. You can't let anyone die if you know you can do something about it."
A wry smirk came over Sean's features. "Too true," he mused. "That's me, a softie to the core. Sometimes I hate that about myself. It has the potential to get any or all of us into a lot of trouble. I nearly died in L.A. because of trying to save a crook."
Barry clenched a fist at the memories. He and Scott and Elliott had all gone to Los Angeles to claim their leader's body after receiving the news that Sean had suffocated. It was still one of the experiences that haunted Barry more than almost anything else, though he had never said so aloud.
"You wouldn't be you without that part of yourself," he said at last. "And if you weren't concerned about everyone's well-being, you wouldn't be a good friend."
"So if I didn't try to save a crook, I wouldn't be a good friend?" Sean said, his voice somewhat derisive.
"The reason you feel like that is because of your compassion," Barry told him. "I'd rather have that than a man who would just let them die because they're criminals."
Sean snorted. "I guess."
He rubbed his eyes again. Strange, it was Elliott who had trouble with allergies, but now it felt like he was getting them. His eyes were so scratchy. . . .
"Hey, El," he said, looking to his semi-aware childhood friend, "can I borrow your eyedrops?"
"Huh?" Elliott opened one eye. "Sure. . . ."
"Thanks." Sean got up and walked across the aisle, reaching over Elliott to the ceiling compartment. As he pulled out Elliott's backpack, he opened and rifled through it in search of the medication.
"Wheat crackers . . . toothbrush . . . toothpaste. . . . Aha!" He smirked in triumph, pulling the bottle of eyedrops out of the bag. He unscrewed the lid and tipped his head back, squeezing a drop into each eye. Then he closed and replaced the vial in the backpack and shoved it into the overhead compartment.
Elliott was barely aware of any of it. His eyes fell closed as he slumped further against Scott.
Barry crossed his arms, observing Sean's actions. Feeling eyes watching him, Sean turned and shrugged. "Must have been something in the air," he said.
"Must have been," Barry said.
****
Whatever was in the air continued to plague Sean on the way home. The eyedrops did little good; his eyes felt as miserable as ever. His back was rebelling, too---unhappy with sitting up straight. And his body was aching all over from the long day and exhausting Chase. At last he reclined his seat and pulled his hat down, falling into a light and uneasy sleep. Barry remained quiet and read a book, not wanting to disturb him.
By the time they at last landed in New York, Sean's slumber had deepened. Barry looked to him, still asleep with his arms crossed on his chest. He had not even stirred when the seatbelt light had come on. Barry had needed to lean over and fix it on him.
"Sean," Barry said now, keeping his voice low. "We're here."
Sean did not stir, his breathing quiet and even.
Elliott, now wide awake, turned to look. "A trip like this one really does wear you out," he said.
Scott nodded in agreement. "We must've been conked out like that earlier," he said.
Barry matter-of-factly said, "You were." Then, turning his attention back to Sean, he grasped the younger man's shoulder. "Sean?"
Sean started awake, his eyes flying open as he all but launched himself out of the seat. His hat fell back on his head, revealing his startled expression.
Barry sighed. "We're here," he said.
Sean looked to him, blinking away the last of the sleep-induced bleariness. ". . . Oh," he said. "Good." He clicked open the seatbelt and eased himself up, grabbing onto the headrest of the seat in front of him.
Vic looked to him from where he was sitting several rows away. "I dunno how you agents can sleep like babies," he complained. "This flight's been too turbulent to give any normal guy a good rest!"
"Turbulent, eh?" Sean muttered as he straightened. "I guess that's why I kept dreaming about a rocking boat."
Elliott snickered, getting up as well.
Scott reached up to get his bag down from the overhead compartment. "That's Sean," he said. "Always ready with the perfect comeback."
"Of course," said Sean, opening his own ceiling bin. "Someone has to show up these V.I.L.E. agents." As he pulled out his backpack, he stumbled, knocking into the seat ahead of him.
Barry frowned in concern as he stood. "Are you alright?" he asked.
"Fine," Sean said, slinging the backpack strap over his shoulder. "Just a little disoriented. My body must still think I'm on that boat."
Barry gave a slow, uncertain nod. Sean's eyes still looked red and glassy. He was absently reaching to rub at them, obviously bothered. And as he shuffled into the aisle, he stumbled again. Still, he did not seem too much the worse for wear; he was starting to whistle Big Wet Rag as he herded Vic ahead of him to the door.
Elliott looked to Scott as they followed. "Do you think he's trying to tell Vic something?" he said in a loud whisper.
Scott snarked. "Probably," he said.
Barry allowed a slight smirk of amusement.