[Fic] Track
w00t! I finished it.
Title: Track
Pairing: Waldo/Carmen, natch
Rating: PG
Warnings: Uh, flirting?
Summary: One world traveler happens upon another.
It was nearly noon, and out the window he could see the last rush to the train. Other people lingered on the platform, most sitting under the overhang of the station, avoiding the sunlight. If he was out there, he would have stayed in the sun. Heck, he would've walked to his destination if time permitted. The day was so beautiful, with only wisps of clouds drifting in the blue sky. Unfortunately, Indianapolis was a ways away, and he'd never make the festival in time if he walked even just part of the distance.
The sunlight warmed the car. He pulled off his hat and set it beside him on the seat. He held his cane in his lap and sat back, gazing out the window. The last of the passengers seemed to be aboard.
Or perhaps not. A woman burst onto the platform, her gloved hand clamping her fedora to her head as she ran, her long trench coat fanning out behind her. Her hat and coat were bright red; she couldn't be ignored in the crowd, like a cardinal diving through branches of autumn leaves. He lost sight of her as she boarded.
He'd nearly forgotten her when the door to his car slid open. She adjusted her coat as she slipped in, looking out the window instead of acknowledging him. The train started to move as a frantic-looking duo hurried onto the platform outside. They waved their arms at the train, but it did not slow down.
Oh, dear, he thought. They didn't make it.
The woman in red chuckled as the train slid away from the platform. She tugged up on her collar, making sure it covered her face, and sat down on the empty seat, gaze still lingering on the window. She slipped her hands into her coat pockets and crossed her legs, leaning back to enjoy the ride.
“Um, hello,” he said, adjusting his eyeglasses.
She didn't jump, but her eyes shot to him as if she'd just noticed he was there. It took her less than a second to recover, and she coolly replied, “I'm sorry. I didn't realize this car was occupied.”
He smiled. “I'm used to it. I don't stand out.”
Her eyes flickered from his red-and-white striped hat to his matching shirt, and he could tell she wasn't sure how that was possible. Her dark eyes narrowed with suspicion, but she didn't get up to leave.
“Did you know those people?” he asked.
“Hm?”
“The two who were late. Are they your friends?”
She laughed, tossing her long black hair over her shoulder. “Acquaintances,” she replied. She didn't offer more.
She wasn't at all out of breath for someone who'd dashed across the station to make the train. Even her hair looked not the least bit frazzled. Then again, in that coat and hat, she did look like a detective. Perhaps she was used to much closer calls. He found himself looking at her eyes, dark and secretive and confident. They were lovely, actually.
He suddenly felt self-conscious, and he ran his hands through his hair. “My name is Waldo.”
She didn't look suspicious anymore. She looked bored. “My pleasure,” she said.
Evidently, she was not into meeting new people, although her unwillingness to reveal her name did support the brazen detective life building up in his imagination.
Something buzzed. The woman in red took a phone from her pocket and glanced at the screen. She checked her wristwatch, quickly punched something into her phone, then put her hands back in her pockets. Scheduling a meeting with a contact? A witness for a case perhaps? Unless...
He cocked his head curiously. “Are you in business?”
She seemed bemused that he continued to initiate conversation, but she smirked. “Sure.”
“What kind?”
“Oh, all kinds. Jewelry, antiques, artifacts...”
Waldo restlessly rolled his cane back and forth over his thighs “So what's waiting for you in Indiana then?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” he repeated.
“Hm.”
“Really?”
She quirked an eyebrow. “Is that a problem?”
“Oh, no, I just think it's kind of odd. You seem like too busy a person to go on a trip for nothing.” He laughed. “It's actually kind of funny. Most people are going somewhere for this or that, but in this car meets two people who just... go.”
“You're 'just going' to Indiana?” she asked.
“Yup.”
“Nomadic of you.”
“And of you.”
“I wouldn't say that.”
“Why not?”
“I wouldn't say that,” she repeated, glancing at her watch.
“Mysterious.”
“But you, you're so forthcoming,” she replied playfully.
“Touché,” he conceded. “There's not much to it, though. I just like to explore, to go from place to place. I get antsy otherwise. There's so much to see and do.”
There was a pause, and she seemed less amused by him now. “What does your family think of that?”
He shrugged. “No family to think of. What about you? Do you see your family often?”
“Well, it appears that's something you and I have in common.”
“No strings.”
“No strings,” she agreed, and he got the feeling that had they been drinking, she would have toasted to it.
Waldo found her reaction curious. “It's not as if company is difficult to come by anyway,” he said. “There are so many people to meet if you're lonely on the road.”
She wasn't so agreeable with this. “If you enjoy that sort of thing,” she muttered.
“Why not?” he pressed.
“Why so?” she mimicked.
“People are friendly. Fun. Interesting.”
“A waste of time.”
“You don't get lonely?”
“Tell me,” she said, “how your loneliness is abated through brief superficial connections with strangers? When you don't plan to stick around? What's the point? Will they even remember you? Do you remember anything other than your limited, rose-colored view of them? It doesn't sound very fulfilling, especially since this loneliness you speak of seems to be recurrent.”
It was a thorough answer, and one Waldo hadn't considered before. It made him uncomfortable and, to be honest, a little upset. He bit his lip and curled his hands around his cane. His silence put a smug expression on her face.
“You act like it's a waste of time to know people at all,” he finally blurted out.
“What's the point?”
“To have an idea of the world around you. To...” He wasn't used to feeling flustered! In the past people who were rude to him usually expressed brief nastiness and then gave him the cold shoulder. This woman was confrontational, something he certainly was not. “To learn about human nature directly,” he continued. “To--”
She laughed. “You're shaking!”
He was, and he felt his face turn red with embarrassment. “You... That was just so negative,” he said.
“Well, it'll be good for you,” she chuckled. “Lots of philosophical questions to ponder while you wander.”
He frowned. “You didn't answer my question, though.”
“Hm?”
“Don't you get lonely, caught up in business with no one to come home to when it's done?”
“My work is never done.”
“So you ignore it.”
It was her turn to be put on the spot. “I don't need meager associations with other people.”
“But you'd like significant associations.”
“Don't put words in my mouth!” she snapped.
He returned her unamused expression, and they shared a mutual glare in silence.
Until he started laughing.
“What's so funny?” she grunted, arms crossed.
He smiled genuinely. “I barely know you and we're arguing so angrily.” He started rolling his cane over his legs again. “But I do have something to think about now.”
She looked less annoyed. “And that makes you happy.”
“I'd prefer to know why I do things than be ignorant.”
She smirked at him, seeming pleased. Her eyes fell on the rotating cane. “Isn't it difficult for you to be on the move all the time?”
“Oh, this? It's just a walking stick.”
“Ah.”
“I appreciate the concern, though.” He sat back, peering out the window. “You know, despite the meager association.”
He caught her struck expression in the window, and then the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed.
“Do you think you'll remember me?” he asked, looking back to her.
She made a show of thinking, thumb and forefinger cradling her chin. “Perhaps. Perhaps more for your attire than anything.”
He pulled his hat back on proudly, like he was displaying a crown. “I've been told fashion sense is not something I garner from other people.”
“Perhaps you should make your way to Milan.”
“I'll add it to the list. But when I get there, will I remember who recommended it to me?” he teased.
She laughed again, much harder than before. “Everyone remembers me.”
He wasn't sure why she found it so funny, but before he could ask, she went on.
“Aren't you worried you'll come across unsavory characters, traveling all alone?”
He cocked his head. “Why? Are you?”
“I can handle them,” she said, again with that secret little smile.
“Well, I've been doing this for years. I look like I've made it through, don't I?”
“It would be too easy to take advantage of that sunny disposition.”
He chuckled. “Oh, should I be worried about you?”
“Maybe,” she said, leaning forward.
The shift from banter to flirtation was so sudden, almost like a slap in the face. He felt himself blush.
“Do you meet a lot of women on your adventures?” she asked.
“There are women everywhere,” he said stupidly.
“You know what I mean,” she said. She got to her feet and leaned over him now, hands pressing down either end of his walking stick, holding him to his seat. “Just like I thought. I could be anyone, and you're just sitting there.”
“You're just teasing,” he said with a bashful smile.
She leaned in closer, but before she could say more, something fell out the front of her coat and into his lap. A book, thick, black, and leather-bound, with “HOLY BIBLE” stamped on the front in faded gold.
Waldo picked it up. “It's a little big for a pocket edition, isn't it?”
“Oh, it's not mine,” she said, still leaning over him. “I stole it.”
He blinked. “From your hotel?” He laughed, flipping through the book. “I hate to stifle your rush, but I don't think they'll really miss it. They must have a whole...” There was a name written on the inside cover, in faded black ink. Daniel Boone, 1797. “What... This is... Shouldn't this be in a museum?”
She tweaked his nose and took the Bible back, finally pulling away from him. “It was.”
“That... that's not yours!” he exclaimed. “Did you steal that?” So much made sense now. She wasn't a detective at all. She was just the opposite.
“You connect with people as you meet them,” she said simply, flipping through the pages. “I connect with what they leave behind.”
Waldo was flabbergasted by the sudden turn in their conversation, but nevertheless he got up from his seat and regarded her warily. “I'm afraid I'll have to bring this to the conductor's attention.”
She checked her watch and put the Bible back into her coat. “I wouldn't waste my time. It's about time for me to go.”
“Go?” he repeated. He glanced out the window. The train chugged along a high bridge, 200 feet over a wide river. “Go where? We're nowhere near Indiana yet.”
“I told you. There's nothing for me in Indiana.”
Before he could ask what she meant, he heard a muffled sound beating the air outside. The sound quickly rose in volume as a helicopter descended outside the window, the pilot peering in. The woman in red raised a hand in greeting, and the machine ascended. Waldo didn't know what to think-- he didn't even think to stop her as she peeled away the rubber around the window and kicked out the oblong sheet of plastic. He heard it bounce off the tracks zipping beneath them, and the chill air whipped around the car.
“Who are you??” he yelled over the noise.
She had to hold her hat to her head to keep it from flying out of the car, and she fumbled in her pocket with her free hand until she produced an envelope. She held it out to him. “I was going to leave this for Acme,” she told him over the wind, “but if you want to know more than what they'll tell you, that's how you can find me.”
She said it so congenially, like a friendly challenge, and he couldn't help but take the envelope from her. Something fell in front of the empty window frame. A rope ladder, twisting in the wind as the unseen helicopter kept up with the train. The woman in red tightened the knot of her belt.
She blew him a kiss. “So long, wanderer.”
She leaped out the window and grabbed onto the flailing ladder, with the ease of an acrobat. The helicopter took off, pulling her away from the train, out over the lake. Waldo clung to the window frame, watching her go. He wanted to shout something, but he only drew a blank. And then the train had crossed the river and shot into the forest, and all he could see were trees whipping past in a green blur. He turned away from the missing window, holding onto the envelope tightly to keep it from the wind's grasp.
The train made an extended stop at the next station, as Acme detectives searched the train for their long-gone quarry. An usher had seen a red-clad woman in Waldo's car, and Waldo answered the detectives' questions about his travel mate honestly, until they asked if Carmen Sandiego had left anything behind. He did not mention the envelope stowed beneath his hat, but it did not leave his thoughts. He was on the cusp of a great adventure.
Title: Track
Pairing: Waldo/Carmen, natch
Rating: PG
Warnings: Uh, flirting?
Summary: One world traveler happens upon another.
It was nearly noon, and out the window he could see the last rush to the train. Other people lingered on the platform, most sitting under the overhang of the station, avoiding the sunlight. If he was out there, he would have stayed in the sun. Heck, he would've walked to his destination if time permitted. The day was so beautiful, with only wisps of clouds drifting in the blue sky. Unfortunately, Indianapolis was a ways away, and he'd never make the festival in time if he walked even just part of the distance.
The sunlight warmed the car. He pulled off his hat and set it beside him on the seat. He held his cane in his lap and sat back, gazing out the window. The last of the passengers seemed to be aboard.
Or perhaps not. A woman burst onto the platform, her gloved hand clamping her fedora to her head as she ran, her long trench coat fanning out behind her. Her hat and coat were bright red; she couldn't be ignored in the crowd, like a cardinal diving through branches of autumn leaves. He lost sight of her as she boarded.
He'd nearly forgotten her when the door to his car slid open. She adjusted her coat as she slipped in, looking out the window instead of acknowledging him. The train started to move as a frantic-looking duo hurried onto the platform outside. They waved their arms at the train, but it did not slow down.
Oh, dear, he thought. They didn't make it.
The woman in red chuckled as the train slid away from the platform. She tugged up on her collar, making sure it covered her face, and sat down on the empty seat, gaze still lingering on the window. She slipped her hands into her coat pockets and crossed her legs, leaning back to enjoy the ride.
“Um, hello,” he said, adjusting his eyeglasses.
She didn't jump, but her eyes shot to him as if she'd just noticed he was there. It took her less than a second to recover, and she coolly replied, “I'm sorry. I didn't realize this car was occupied.”
He smiled. “I'm used to it. I don't stand out.”
Her eyes flickered from his red-and-white striped hat to his matching shirt, and he could tell she wasn't sure how that was possible. Her dark eyes narrowed with suspicion, but she didn't get up to leave.
“Did you know those people?” he asked.
“Hm?”
“The two who were late. Are they your friends?”
She laughed, tossing her long black hair over her shoulder. “Acquaintances,” she replied. She didn't offer more.
She wasn't at all out of breath for someone who'd dashed across the station to make the train. Even her hair looked not the least bit frazzled. Then again, in that coat and hat, she did look like a detective. Perhaps she was used to much closer calls. He found himself looking at her eyes, dark and secretive and confident. They were lovely, actually.
He suddenly felt self-conscious, and he ran his hands through his hair. “My name is Waldo.”
She didn't look suspicious anymore. She looked bored. “My pleasure,” she said.
Evidently, she was not into meeting new people, although her unwillingness to reveal her name did support the brazen detective life building up in his imagination.
Something buzzed. The woman in red took a phone from her pocket and glanced at the screen. She checked her wristwatch, quickly punched something into her phone, then put her hands back in her pockets. Scheduling a meeting with a contact? A witness for a case perhaps? Unless...
He cocked his head curiously. “Are you in business?”
She seemed bemused that he continued to initiate conversation, but she smirked. “Sure.”
“What kind?”
“Oh, all kinds. Jewelry, antiques, artifacts...”
Waldo restlessly rolled his cane back and forth over his thighs “So what's waiting for you in Indiana then?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” he repeated.
“Hm.”
“Really?”
She quirked an eyebrow. “Is that a problem?”
“Oh, no, I just think it's kind of odd. You seem like too busy a person to go on a trip for nothing.” He laughed. “It's actually kind of funny. Most people are going somewhere for this or that, but in this car meets two people who just... go.”
“You're 'just going' to Indiana?” she asked.
“Yup.”
“Nomadic of you.”
“And of you.”
“I wouldn't say that.”
“Why not?”
“I wouldn't say that,” she repeated, glancing at her watch.
“Mysterious.”
“But you, you're so forthcoming,” she replied playfully.
“Touché,” he conceded. “There's not much to it, though. I just like to explore, to go from place to place. I get antsy otherwise. There's so much to see and do.”
There was a pause, and she seemed less amused by him now. “What does your family think of that?”
He shrugged. “No family to think of. What about you? Do you see your family often?”
“Well, it appears that's something you and I have in common.”
“No strings.”
“No strings,” she agreed, and he got the feeling that had they been drinking, she would have toasted to it.
Waldo found her reaction curious. “It's not as if company is difficult to come by anyway,” he said. “There are so many people to meet if you're lonely on the road.”
She wasn't so agreeable with this. “If you enjoy that sort of thing,” she muttered.
“Why not?” he pressed.
“Why so?” she mimicked.
“People are friendly. Fun. Interesting.”
“A waste of time.”
“You don't get lonely?”
“Tell me,” she said, “how your loneliness is abated through brief superficial connections with strangers? When you don't plan to stick around? What's the point? Will they even remember you? Do you remember anything other than your limited, rose-colored view of them? It doesn't sound very fulfilling, especially since this loneliness you speak of seems to be recurrent.”
It was a thorough answer, and one Waldo hadn't considered before. It made him uncomfortable and, to be honest, a little upset. He bit his lip and curled his hands around his cane. His silence put a smug expression on her face.
“You act like it's a waste of time to know people at all,” he finally blurted out.
“What's the point?”
“To have an idea of the world around you. To...” He wasn't used to feeling flustered! In the past people who were rude to him usually expressed brief nastiness and then gave him the cold shoulder. This woman was confrontational, something he certainly was not. “To learn about human nature directly,” he continued. “To--”
She laughed. “You're shaking!”
He was, and he felt his face turn red with embarrassment. “You... That was just so negative,” he said.
“Well, it'll be good for you,” she chuckled. “Lots of philosophical questions to ponder while you wander.”
He frowned. “You didn't answer my question, though.”
“Hm?”
“Don't you get lonely, caught up in business with no one to come home to when it's done?”
“My work is never done.”
“So you ignore it.”
It was her turn to be put on the spot. “I don't need meager associations with other people.”
“But you'd like significant associations.”
“Don't put words in my mouth!” she snapped.
He returned her unamused expression, and they shared a mutual glare in silence.
Until he started laughing.
“What's so funny?” she grunted, arms crossed.
He smiled genuinely. “I barely know you and we're arguing so angrily.” He started rolling his cane over his legs again. “But I do have something to think about now.”
She looked less annoyed. “And that makes you happy.”
“I'd prefer to know why I do things than be ignorant.”
She smirked at him, seeming pleased. Her eyes fell on the rotating cane. “Isn't it difficult for you to be on the move all the time?”
“Oh, this? It's just a walking stick.”
“Ah.”
“I appreciate the concern, though.” He sat back, peering out the window. “You know, despite the meager association.”
He caught her struck expression in the window, and then the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed.
“Do you think you'll remember me?” he asked, looking back to her.
She made a show of thinking, thumb and forefinger cradling her chin. “Perhaps. Perhaps more for your attire than anything.”
He pulled his hat back on proudly, like he was displaying a crown. “I've been told fashion sense is not something I garner from other people.”
“Perhaps you should make your way to Milan.”
“I'll add it to the list. But when I get there, will I remember who recommended it to me?” he teased.
She laughed again, much harder than before. “Everyone remembers me.”
He wasn't sure why she found it so funny, but before he could ask, she went on.
“Aren't you worried you'll come across unsavory characters, traveling all alone?”
He cocked his head. “Why? Are you?”
“I can handle them,” she said, again with that secret little smile.
“Well, I've been doing this for years. I look like I've made it through, don't I?”
“It would be too easy to take advantage of that sunny disposition.”
He chuckled. “Oh, should I be worried about you?”
“Maybe,” she said, leaning forward.
The shift from banter to flirtation was so sudden, almost like a slap in the face. He felt himself blush.
“Do you meet a lot of women on your adventures?” she asked.
“There are women everywhere,” he said stupidly.
“You know what I mean,” she said. She got to her feet and leaned over him now, hands pressing down either end of his walking stick, holding him to his seat. “Just like I thought. I could be anyone, and you're just sitting there.”
“You're just teasing,” he said with a bashful smile.
She leaned in closer, but before she could say more, something fell out the front of her coat and into his lap. A book, thick, black, and leather-bound, with “HOLY BIBLE” stamped on the front in faded gold.
Waldo picked it up. “It's a little big for a pocket edition, isn't it?”
“Oh, it's not mine,” she said, still leaning over him. “I stole it.”
He blinked. “From your hotel?” He laughed, flipping through the book. “I hate to stifle your rush, but I don't think they'll really miss it. They must have a whole...” There was a name written on the inside cover, in faded black ink. Daniel Boone, 1797. “What... This is... Shouldn't this be in a museum?”
She tweaked his nose and took the Bible back, finally pulling away from him. “It was.”
“That... that's not yours!” he exclaimed. “Did you steal that?” So much made sense now. She wasn't a detective at all. She was just the opposite.
“You connect with people as you meet them,” she said simply, flipping through the pages. “I connect with what they leave behind.”
Waldo was flabbergasted by the sudden turn in their conversation, but nevertheless he got up from his seat and regarded her warily. “I'm afraid I'll have to bring this to the conductor's attention.”
She checked her watch and put the Bible back into her coat. “I wouldn't waste my time. It's about time for me to go.”
“Go?” he repeated. He glanced out the window. The train chugged along a high bridge, 200 feet over a wide river. “Go where? We're nowhere near Indiana yet.”
“I told you. There's nothing for me in Indiana.”
Before he could ask what she meant, he heard a muffled sound beating the air outside. The sound quickly rose in volume as a helicopter descended outside the window, the pilot peering in. The woman in red raised a hand in greeting, and the machine ascended. Waldo didn't know what to think-- he didn't even think to stop her as she peeled away the rubber around the window and kicked out the oblong sheet of plastic. He heard it bounce off the tracks zipping beneath them, and the chill air whipped around the car.
“Who are you??” he yelled over the noise.
She had to hold her hat to her head to keep it from flying out of the car, and she fumbled in her pocket with her free hand until she produced an envelope. She held it out to him. “I was going to leave this for Acme,” she told him over the wind, “but if you want to know more than what they'll tell you, that's how you can find me.”
She said it so congenially, like a friendly challenge, and he couldn't help but take the envelope from her. Something fell in front of the empty window frame. A rope ladder, twisting in the wind as the unseen helicopter kept up with the train. The woman in red tightened the knot of her belt.
She blew him a kiss. “So long, wanderer.”
She leaped out the window and grabbed onto the flailing ladder, with the ease of an acrobat. The helicopter took off, pulling her away from the train, out over the lake. Waldo clung to the window frame, watching her go. He wanted to shout something, but he only drew a blank. And then the train had crossed the river and shot into the forest, and all he could see were trees whipping past in a green blur. He turned away from the missing window, holding onto the envelope tightly to keep it from the wind's grasp.
The train made an extended stop at the next station, as Acme detectives searched the train for their long-gone quarry. An usher had seen a red-clad woman in Waldo's car, and Waldo answered the detectives' questions about his travel mate honestly, until they asked if Carmen Sandiego had left anything behind. He did not mention the envelope stowed beneath his hat, but it did not leave his thoughts. He was on the cusp of a great adventure.