EXTENDED: Alive Beneath the Snow, 5/5
Title: Alive Beneath the Snow, epilogue
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Rating: T/PG-13
Word Count: 1,670
Main Characters: Fictional Rockapella (Sean, Scott, Elliott, Barry)
Supporting Characters: Greg
Summary: The aftermath.
Will be posted to 10_hurt_comfort.
Epilogue
"Okay, Gumshoes---to what county did Kneemoi take the stolen mine---Cache, Box Elder, or Weber?"
Greg looked to each of the three Gumshoes as he shuffled the case notes in his hands. But before anyone could reply, the door to the alley flew open. Sean leaned in just long enough to throw a fake snowball at Greg, cackling as the substance broke over Greg's dark blue jacket. Then Sean slammed the door again, vanishing into the alley.
Greg grabbed a snowball of his own. "Alright, Mister!" he yelled, running to the door. "I've had just about enough of this! Time for a taste of your own medicine!"
As he ran into the alley, however, Sean was climbing in through the window. He smirked at the gawking Gumshoes, placing a finger to his lips as he dug another snowball out of his pocket. Then he ducked around to the side of the monitor.
"There's nowhere to run now!" Greg exclaimed as he arrived at the window and began to hoist himself through the open space. He threw his snowball at the same time Sean threw his. They collided in mid-air, spraying fake snow on both parties as they yelped in surprise.
"Judges!" Greg called, spitting out the pseudo flakes. "What's your verdict?"
"It was a draw," Barry grunted from where they were standing at the edge of the map room.
"Definitely a draw," Scott nodded.
"Completely," Elliott said.
Sean pointed at Greg with an overdramatic gesture. "I will get you next time!" he declared, before bounding to the others.
Elliott laughed, high-fiving the taller man. Right now, there was nothing he wanted to see more than this nonsense.
Sean had made a complete recovery. Following his return to consciousness, he had only continued to improve over the next days, and the doctors had at last agreed to release him to return to his room---as long as he rested. But he was quite restless, and getting back to normalcy by teasing Greg was welcome by all---including Greg.
"Okay," Scott said with a grin, looking up at Sean, "let's get you back upstairs before the doctors have a conniption." He drew an arm around Sean's shoulders.
"Me?" Sean replied. "I'm perfectly fit!"
"No one disagrees with that," Elliott chuckled, "but you don't want the physicians saying you need to go back to the infirmary just so you'll settle down."
Sean gave a mock sigh. "You've convinced me," he said. "Onward and upward!" He turned, running through the map room and into the hall, then galloping up the nearest staircase.
"Sean! You'll strain yourself!" Elliott scolded, but he was amused. He chased after his childhood friend, Scott and Barry right behind. They thundered up the stairs, continuing to dash like mad until they followed Sean into his room and tackled him onto his bed. By now they were all laughing. Even Barry chuckled a bit.
"Rest," he said in a commanding tone as they moved back to release their friend.
"Rest? I don't know the meaning of the word," Sean grinned as he rolled onto his back. "I've rested enough for several days." He reclined on the bed, looking to each of his closest friends. He was overjoyed to be well enough to be up and around again. Being trapped in the mind of his unconscious body had been a prison. He had heard many of the conversations that had taken place, and most of what had been said directly to him, without being able to reply. Small gestures such as smiling or trying to grasp a hand had become large victories.
Now he looked to Scott. "You did a good job of holding down the fort," he said, sobering. "You're a natural leader, Scott."
Scott gave him a weak smile. "Did you hear what I was saying to you?" he asked.
Sean nodded. "Yep. And you're right---about everything. I'm sorry I put all of that on you."
But Scott was quick to defend Sean's decision. "I meant all of it, including that I'm honored," he said, sitting down next to the other man.
Elliott and Barry exchanged a look. Had Scott unloaded the burdens of being a leader? It was a relief if he had done so; both of them had been so worried about him bottling everything up.
And Scott realized it, too. He looked to them, regret in his eyes. "Guys, I'm sorry," he said. "I know I made you worry more. I . . . I got so caught up in trying to keep everything together that I thought the best way to keep me together was to not say anything. I thought if I did, I'd break. . . ."
Sean sat up, drawing an arm around Scott. "We probably both need to be more open," he said, "for everyone's sakes."
Elliott nodded. "We probably all do," he said, sitting down as well.
Barry stayed standing, his arms crossed. But as Sean looked up at him, he slowly sat down too. Sean nodded in approval.
"By the way, El," he said, looking to the surprised brunet, "those unctuous creeps you were telling me about? They proved they didn't have any brains when they said that to you."
Elliott blinked, then smiled a bit. "I never wanted to believe them," he said. "After I made friends with you and Barry and Scott, I knew it was a lie."
Scott frowned. "What did they say?" he wanted to know. "And who're ‘they'?"
A sigh left Elliott's lips. "Just the creeps who were always bothering me when I was a kid," he explained. "They never liked me, mostly because I'm quiet. They told me no one would want to be friends with me unless it was because I'm a good fighter."
Scott stiffened in indignation. "That's awful!" he exclaimed.
"No one interested in knowing you would say that," Barry said with a frown.
"I know," Elliott said. "I never joined them. I never wanted to. I stayed a loner until I met Sean." He smiled again. "That saved me from a life of solitude." With a laugh he added, "I can imagine myself growing up to be some reclusive, eccentric professor."
Sean draped an arm around Elliott's shoulders. "A complete waste of your personality and singing talent," he said.
"You're not really shy, when people get to know you," Scott said in agreement. "And you're a great friend. All of you are." He looked from Elliott to Sean to Barry. "The best."
Sean grinned. "So, Barry, if you hadn't joined up with us, what would you have done?"
Barry grunted. "I'd be in the opera," he said matter-of-factly.
"Opera?" Sean sat up straight, giving him a strange look. "You're kidding, right?"
Barry just smirked.
". . . Okay then," Sean said. "You know I'll be pestering you to know more."
"Of course," Barry said, crossing his arms.
Scott chuckled. "I'd be a singer too, I think," he said. "But I don't know where.
"What about you, Sean?"
All eyes turned to Sean, who shrugged in response. "I don't have the faintest idea," he said. "Something crazy, I guess . . . maybe with snowballs or rubber fish." He grabbed the latter item out of his pocket, waving it in front of Scott before throwing it over his shoulder and Elliott's head to land on the nightstand. "But . . . I do know I'd feel like something was missing."
"Me too," Scott agreed without skipping a beat. Barry and Elliott nodded as well.
"And we would've met sometime," Sean mused. "But it would've been a lot different. Maybe we wouldn't even be as close as we are. It might have been a one-time deal, a chance meeting in a restaurant or something, and then we'd all go our separate ways, never to meet again."
Elliott shook his head. "I think we would've felt something then," he said, "like that whatever had been missing was found. And we would've tried to stay in touch."
"You're right, El," Sean consented. He leaned back, stretching his arms over his head. "Anyway, thinking of it being any other way is too depressing!"
"Hear hear," Scott said.
Again Barry nodded. He hated to imagine them as passing acquaintances, particularly after all this. In vastly different circumstances he supposed it would be possible, but there was no need to even think about it-unless it was to be grateful all the more for their bond.
"Hey, does Vic know I got better?" Sean said, abruptly changing the subject.
Scott blinked. "I don't think so," he said. "None of us wanted to tell him."
A smirk crossed Sean's features. "Maybe I should go haunt him and pretend to be a ghost . . . or even a zombie," he said. "That should scare him."
"He'd deserve it," Elliott said, though he did not know that he could laugh. After what they had been through, he did not want to see Sean even pretending to be dead.
Sean seemed to sense the joke was out of place. ". . . Or maybe we just won't do anything and wait to let him see for himself," he said. "That should be enough to make him jump out of his shoes."
"It should be," Scott said, grinning a bit.
"And hopefully he'll think twice before stealing anything more," Elliott said, despite it being highly unlikely.
"Well," Sean mused, "at least I'll know one thing to do different if he ever needs help on a balcony again."
Barry looked at him. "What?" he asked, half-wondering if Sean was going to joke about not saving the creep. But he should have known better.
"Make him go ahead of me," Sean said with a mischievous smile. "I won't risk being scratched by anything another time!"
Elliott grinned too. "Good deal," he said.
"Before long I'll be raring to go on assignments again," Sean went on, "and then . . . V.I.L.E., beware!" He smirked. "We are the Quadruple Threat."
Elliott snickered. "Sean . . ."
"Okay, not as poetic as Triple Threat," Sean said in his defense, "but we'd better never be a triple threat."
And Scott gave a firm nod.
Heaven forbid.
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Rating: T/PG-13
Word Count: 1,670
Main Characters: Fictional Rockapella (Sean, Scott, Elliott, Barry)
Supporting Characters: Greg
Summary: The aftermath.
Will be posted to 10_hurt_comfort.
Epilogue
"Okay, Gumshoes---to what county did Kneemoi take the stolen mine---Cache, Box Elder, or Weber?"
Greg looked to each of the three Gumshoes as he shuffled the case notes in his hands. But before anyone could reply, the door to the alley flew open. Sean leaned in just long enough to throw a fake snowball at Greg, cackling as the substance broke over Greg's dark blue jacket. Then Sean slammed the door again, vanishing into the alley.
Greg grabbed a snowball of his own. "Alright, Mister!" he yelled, running to the door. "I've had just about enough of this! Time for a taste of your own medicine!"
As he ran into the alley, however, Sean was climbing in through the window. He smirked at the gawking Gumshoes, placing a finger to his lips as he dug another snowball out of his pocket. Then he ducked around to the side of the monitor.
"There's nowhere to run now!" Greg exclaimed as he arrived at the window and began to hoist himself through the open space. He threw his snowball at the same time Sean threw his. They collided in mid-air, spraying fake snow on both parties as they yelped in surprise.
"Judges!" Greg called, spitting out the pseudo flakes. "What's your verdict?"
"It was a draw," Barry grunted from where they were standing at the edge of the map room.
"Definitely a draw," Scott nodded.
"Completely," Elliott said.
Sean pointed at Greg with an overdramatic gesture. "I will get you next time!" he declared, before bounding to the others.
Elliott laughed, high-fiving the taller man. Right now, there was nothing he wanted to see more than this nonsense.
Sean had made a complete recovery. Following his return to consciousness, he had only continued to improve over the next days, and the doctors had at last agreed to release him to return to his room---as long as he rested. But he was quite restless, and getting back to normalcy by teasing Greg was welcome by all---including Greg.
"Okay," Scott said with a grin, looking up at Sean, "let's get you back upstairs before the doctors have a conniption." He drew an arm around Sean's shoulders.
"Me?" Sean replied. "I'm perfectly fit!"
"No one disagrees with that," Elliott chuckled, "but you don't want the physicians saying you need to go back to the infirmary just so you'll settle down."
Sean gave a mock sigh. "You've convinced me," he said. "Onward and upward!" He turned, running through the map room and into the hall, then galloping up the nearest staircase.
"Sean! You'll strain yourself!" Elliott scolded, but he was amused. He chased after his childhood friend, Scott and Barry right behind. They thundered up the stairs, continuing to dash like mad until they followed Sean into his room and tackled him onto his bed. By now they were all laughing. Even Barry chuckled a bit.
"Rest," he said in a commanding tone as they moved back to release their friend.
"Rest? I don't know the meaning of the word," Sean grinned as he rolled onto his back. "I've rested enough for several days." He reclined on the bed, looking to each of his closest friends. He was overjoyed to be well enough to be up and around again. Being trapped in the mind of his unconscious body had been a prison. He had heard many of the conversations that had taken place, and most of what had been said directly to him, without being able to reply. Small gestures such as smiling or trying to grasp a hand had become large victories.
Now he looked to Scott. "You did a good job of holding down the fort," he said, sobering. "You're a natural leader, Scott."
Scott gave him a weak smile. "Did you hear what I was saying to you?" he asked.
Sean nodded. "Yep. And you're right---about everything. I'm sorry I put all of that on you."
But Scott was quick to defend Sean's decision. "I meant all of it, including that I'm honored," he said, sitting down next to the other man.
Elliott and Barry exchanged a look. Had Scott unloaded the burdens of being a leader? It was a relief if he had done so; both of them had been so worried about him bottling everything up.
And Scott realized it, too. He looked to them, regret in his eyes. "Guys, I'm sorry," he said. "I know I made you worry more. I . . . I got so caught up in trying to keep everything together that I thought the best way to keep me together was to not say anything. I thought if I did, I'd break. . . ."
Sean sat up, drawing an arm around Scott. "We probably both need to be more open," he said, "for everyone's sakes."
Elliott nodded. "We probably all do," he said, sitting down as well.
Barry stayed standing, his arms crossed. But as Sean looked up at him, he slowly sat down too. Sean nodded in approval.
"By the way, El," he said, looking to the surprised brunet, "those unctuous creeps you were telling me about? They proved they didn't have any brains when they said that to you."
Elliott blinked, then smiled a bit. "I never wanted to believe them," he said. "After I made friends with you and Barry and Scott, I knew it was a lie."
Scott frowned. "What did they say?" he wanted to know. "And who're ‘they'?"
A sigh left Elliott's lips. "Just the creeps who were always bothering me when I was a kid," he explained. "They never liked me, mostly because I'm quiet. They told me no one would want to be friends with me unless it was because I'm a good fighter."
Scott stiffened in indignation. "That's awful!" he exclaimed.
"No one interested in knowing you would say that," Barry said with a frown.
"I know," Elliott said. "I never joined them. I never wanted to. I stayed a loner until I met Sean." He smiled again. "That saved me from a life of solitude." With a laugh he added, "I can imagine myself growing up to be some reclusive, eccentric professor."
Sean draped an arm around Elliott's shoulders. "A complete waste of your personality and singing talent," he said.
"You're not really shy, when people get to know you," Scott said in agreement. "And you're a great friend. All of you are." He looked from Elliott to Sean to Barry. "The best."
Sean grinned. "So, Barry, if you hadn't joined up with us, what would you have done?"
Barry grunted. "I'd be in the opera," he said matter-of-factly.
"Opera?" Sean sat up straight, giving him a strange look. "You're kidding, right?"
Barry just smirked.
". . . Okay then," Sean said. "You know I'll be pestering you to know more."
"Of course," Barry said, crossing his arms.
Scott chuckled. "I'd be a singer too, I think," he said. "But I don't know where.
"What about you, Sean?"
All eyes turned to Sean, who shrugged in response. "I don't have the faintest idea," he said. "Something crazy, I guess . . . maybe with snowballs or rubber fish." He grabbed the latter item out of his pocket, waving it in front of Scott before throwing it over his shoulder and Elliott's head to land on the nightstand. "But . . . I do know I'd feel like something was missing."
"Me too," Scott agreed without skipping a beat. Barry and Elliott nodded as well.
"And we would've met sometime," Sean mused. "But it would've been a lot different. Maybe we wouldn't even be as close as we are. It might have been a one-time deal, a chance meeting in a restaurant or something, and then we'd all go our separate ways, never to meet again."
Elliott shook his head. "I think we would've felt something then," he said, "like that whatever had been missing was found. And we would've tried to stay in touch."
"You're right, El," Sean consented. He leaned back, stretching his arms over his head. "Anyway, thinking of it being any other way is too depressing!"
"Hear hear," Scott said.
Again Barry nodded. He hated to imagine them as passing acquaintances, particularly after all this. In vastly different circumstances he supposed it would be possible, but there was no need to even think about it-unless it was to be grateful all the more for their bond.
"Hey, does Vic know I got better?" Sean said, abruptly changing the subject.
Scott blinked. "I don't think so," he said. "None of us wanted to tell him."
A smirk crossed Sean's features. "Maybe I should go haunt him and pretend to be a ghost . . . or even a zombie," he said. "That should scare him."
"He'd deserve it," Elliott said, though he did not know that he could laugh. After what they had been through, he did not want to see Sean even pretending to be dead.
Sean seemed to sense the joke was out of place. ". . . Or maybe we just won't do anything and wait to let him see for himself," he said. "That should be enough to make him jump out of his shoes."
"It should be," Scott said, grinning a bit.
"And hopefully he'll think twice before stealing anything more," Elliott said, despite it being highly unlikely.
"Well," Sean mused, "at least I'll know one thing to do different if he ever needs help on a balcony again."
Barry looked at him. "What?" he asked, half-wondering if Sean was going to joke about not saving the creep. But he should have known better.
"Make him go ahead of me," Sean said with a mischievous smile. "I won't risk being scratched by anything another time!"
Elliott grinned too. "Good deal," he said.
"Before long I'll be raring to go on assignments again," Sean went on, "and then . . . V.I.L.E., beware!" He smirked. "We are the Quadruple Threat."
Elliott snickered. "Sean . . ."
"Okay, not as poetic as Triple Threat," Sean said in his defense, "but we'd better never be a triple threat."
And Scott gave a firm nod.
Heaven forbid.