Carmen Sandiego had been summoned to testify. To the surprise of the police, national and international and to the delight of tabloids and journalists - she didn't refuse. She entered the front door, obeying the directions. Then she said exactly what she knew.

Everything she knew about Raven's identity. Her phone calls, the connections she had. The hotels. The mailbox where the deliveries were made. The only envelope she kept. She gave up everything.

The police had nothing about her. Her alibi was perfect, the airport cameras were recording her arrival, her flight tickets. She was a guilt-free woman after she paid the stipulated bail. As soon as she was released from her legal obligations, she left. She said goodbye to Victoria and departed on a one-way trip. It was time to go home.

Sitting on a white lounger, Emma Swan drank the third strawberry margarita. Her smooth hair was loose, the golden threads falling on her bare shoulders and the top of her head covered by a large straw hat. She felt marvelously hot, wearing a bold bikini with no straps. Truth to be told, the sun of Bolivia was formidable.

Robin walked over to her, looking at one of the pools; it was drawn in circular patterns between dark blue and sparkling blue, water on the same level as the decking and sprinters that occasionally guaranteed a visual spectacle in which he was not interested at all. He looked extremely depressed. The deep eyes and the dark circles around it, the unshaven beard and the sloppy hair, all together looked scary. The weather was extremely hot and he wore a black t-shirt and jeans.

"You don't even look like you're on vacation," she teased.

"I'm not on vacation." He mumbled, sitting down beside her. Emma watched his posture in silence. Robin looked sad. He had crawled into the plane and since then had demonstrated nothing but his dissatisfaction. Because of that girl. She bit her lip, her eyes staring at the serene pool water. What your brother felt for that woman... Would someone ever feel that way about her?

Maybe it was the weight of so much tequila in her bloodstream. Perhaps it was the lightness of the rest after she had ended a promise made twenty years ago. Her heart felt heavy. What she had done? Why she had been so insensitive to him - and worse still - why he had allowed? You're the only family he has, Emma. He wouldn't say no to you.

Suddenly she felt extremely guilty. She remembered her father's words, minutes before he died. Take care of your brother. And she had done exactly the opposite. She had pressed Robin to the loss of the only woman he had ever loved. "Are you worried about her?" She asked, and his blue eyes met hers, while he smiled without any emotion.

"I have nothing to worry anymore, do I? Anyway, she will never forgive me. I'll make sure she's safe, but I won't bother her never again. I've hurt her enough." He stood up and put his hands in the front pockets of the jeans he wore.

"Drink something. You've been stuck in your room for days."

"And you've been drinking since we arrived. To what extent should I regard this as a celebration and not as an escape, Emma?"

"That's what I get for trying to be cool" she scoffed. But he just stared at her, his lips parted as if he was ready to answer, but he was still silent. He stood up slowly, still staring at her, a few seconds of indecision before giving his word.

"I'll be in my room if you need me."

Emma watched as he walked away. It was not right. None of it was. Her brother had done nothing but trying to keep her safe anyway. Emma was guilty. Guilty of her jealousy of her only remaining family. Guilty of having sabotaged Carmen Sandiego on missions and almost killing her, even knowing that Robin would leave her after this. A petty attitude that has been repeated for years and years.

She had become such a cold and insensitive person that she looked nothing like the girl Archie Hopper called a little swan when, in fact - she wanted only to be someone worthy of her father's respect. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the lounger. Male came to her mind, with her clear eyes and sweet smile. Neal, with his naivete and carelessness. An image of Robin, still a boy, buying her the most beautiful dress she'd ever seen and taking her to the prom, just to make sure she was not alone. She knew she needed to fix things, not for them, but for herself. She needed to remember who she had once been. That there was a forgotten soul somewhere inside her.

Emma knocked on the door. Her brother did not answer, and she took a deep, slow breath before entering the room. She stepped into luxury, barefoot on the fuzzy carpet. The presidential suite at Los Tajibos left nothing else to be desired. Carved wooden colloquial furniture created a visually pleasing contrast when placed over the light porcelain of some rooms, and the soft, viscous fabrics of the bedclothes only retained the air of the nobility. A huge suite, possibly the same size as hers. She noticed subtle differences in wallpapers, something of the standard design, but it did not matter much. The luminaries lined with a golden material created light in the room. Emma passed through the living room and through the white door, then noticed the beautiful king-size bed. Robin was on the balcony, and from where she was, she could only see his lumbar curve. Did she notice the trim of the curtain and rethink if her bedroom was like that, too? Maybe she really was a little more distracted than she should. She approached him and being close enough she noticed the glass of whiskey in his hand. By the mark of the drink on the edge she concluded that he had drunk half of it.

"If you came here to make me feel worse than I already am... I'd rather you leave."

"I just want to understand." she said, the calm, gentle voice that only her brother could get out of her. Robin continued to stare at the garden, though he seemed disinterested in the splendid beauty of nature - which was definitely well taken care of. There was not even a sheet out of place. "Why is she so important? Why give up everything for her?"

"I love her, Emma. And love, just for being what it is, it is already worth. Because when we love someone so the whole world loses interest unless you have that person to share it with you. Because love catches us and we become hostages of the fear of losing that person and when we lose, we become hostages of regrets and sorrow. Of the remorse of having done things differently."

Emma took the glass out of his hand and took a sip that burned down her throat and made her eyes water. The alcohol content of the beverages in that country should be reassessed. "I dont understand. If it's something that causes so much pain..."

"But it's the pain that makes us humans, Emma. The intoxicating sensation of loving another human being with all their imperfections and characteristics with nothing in return, without even knowing if we will be loved in return, this... surpasses any suffering that exists. Love makes us see the faults and the qualities of the other and yet, we defend every little detail that makes this person - we see the result as a whole, and we love it. Love makes us live what the other lives. Every smile, every tear, every glint in the eyes - it's all about caring for someone, making that person complete without the need of making her ours. Of their happiness, even if we are not included. Even if it involves having the maturity to admit that we are not good enough to make someone happy."

"You're good enough for her."

"I'm not. I tried to be, but it was clear that she would be better off without me."

"Robin!" Emma's face began to burn. Maybe that whiskey was stronger than she imagined. "If there is someone who has ruined everything here, it was me and not you. All you do is think about her, and I confess that has always irritated me. But I... I really love Male. And what did I do? I betrayed her, I stole her, I used her to run away. Because I was afraid to accept what I feel for her. I was afraid that I loved her too much that it would weaken me. I was a coward. You are right - pain makes us human. And in this attempt to avoid all sorts of pain I've become such a cold person. A human being robotized by logic and reason."

He smiled. "I always knew you loved her."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I'm not your father, Emma. I'm your brother. I have no right to get involved in your life or how you want to live it. "

"But I got into yours. I almost hurt her."

"I know." His face closed for a while. "And at that moment you disappointed me a lot. But I understood your fear. I will never exchange you for her. You'll always be my little sister. But she will never cease to be... " He played with the glass, trying to find the word that never appeared. "Whatever she is."

"Aren't you going to tell her the truth?"

"It makes no difference, Ems. We won't end up together - she hates me. If I show up in front of her, she might shoot me or something. I can't even blame her for it."

Emma laughed. "You were meant for each other. Only an idiot does not see that."

"You didn't see that."

"I'm an idiot."

"We finally agreed with something," he mocked, and Emma punched him at the height of his ribs, but without much force.

"There is an ancient, oriental tale that speaks about a red string that connects the souls destined to meet. This tale says that the string extends and coils, but never breaks. That the smaller the distance between these two souls, the happier they feel. And the longer the distance, the sadder and the lost they feel. I'm not exactly gullible about this sort of thing, but... You're both connected, Robin. And you know that. Your life has been crossing for so long that it is impossible to be just a coincidence."

"Is this what you have been reading while pretending to be working?"

"Show some respect, McLocksller."

Emma cleared her throat and took a piece of paper from her pocket. Robin looked at her, confused. "What is it?"

"I think we have reached a point where we have no choice but to face our demons and ghosts, Robbie. The mission given by our father is over. You wanted to leave, and now you're free. But you have another mission, only yours and I can't help you. You have to do it yourself."

She entered the paper and he opened it, facing numbers written in a specific pattern.

"That is..."

"The coordinates of the island. You need to tell her the whole truth. You deserve something, even if it's a closure and she deserves to know."

"What about you? What are you going to do? How many days do you think your livers will last?"

"I have business to solve in Moscow." Robin smiled and pulled her into a hug. He pressed her against him, smiling. "I can't believe you're doing this for me, boo." He kissed the top of her blond hair.

"Consider it as an apology. I had no idea how far I had been for Raven too. I had no idea she was so important to you. I mean, I guess I always knew... But I did not want to. I was afraid she would push you away from me."

"What really matters is not whether we fall or not, whether we make a mistake or not, but if we raise our heads and move on. I think it's time we let him rest in peace and live our own lives. I think he would want that for us, too."

Emma hugged him tightly, laying her head on his chest and remembering the scent that made her feel at home.

Gold entered Robin's room, and walked over to the liquor cabinet. He had drunk all his whiskeys, and the thought made him laugh. At least for a good palate the british served. A worthless clerk whom he had despised in front of the hungry Westminster press and was now traveling the world full of money and with the blonde in tow. But something made no sense at all. In reviewing the cameras, it didn't seem to them that their relationship was romantic. Nothing indicated a closer bond, something between lust and desire. It was a mystery that it would take some time to solve.

He walked over to the table. There were a number of backward processes, denouncing how long McLocksller wasn't bothering himself about bureaucratic issues. A bottle of new wine was on the table, wrapped in a majestic green bow. A gold card was placed beneath it. Robin was supposed to be a very talented man in four walls - he had a lot of admirers. His eyes flashed with hatred as he remembered that Belle - at some point - had been in the count. He tossed the golden envelope into the bin next to the table. He walked slowly to the frame, whose photos were still connected with red ties. The maps, also marked with red x's. He laughed at the visual confusion that formed. He had no technique at all, it was surprising that he could manage so many teams. The old man shook his head. A man whose intelligence was invaluable, as was the fragility of his heart. Falling in love with Carmen Sandiego was not a crime. Looking at the woman from top to bottom, the sculptural body, the steady, hoarse voice, all the elegant and sophisticated features - the end result was an unfair and unequal game. But they were trained men. They had a code of conduct.

He knew from the beginning that the boy's obsession was not healthy, but he fed it day and night. He needed obstinacy. He needed the induced blindness, because without realizing Robin would take him to Archie Hopper. Archie Hopper had some connection with Carmen, and Gold needed to find out what it was. He needed to find out where Archie was. The Raven was alive, was not it? A living person does not have the ability to simply disappear from the planet, and in this case, Gold would find him and end what he started.

Gold filled a glass with the golden liquor from the bottle. Robin would not mind. He could buy a dozen bottles like this just for breakfast. He stared at the large, glazed office panes. Maybe I should keep this office to myself. It seems so much more to me. A devilish smile was born on his lips. He lifted the glass to his lips and took a long drink. The taste seemed bitter, and he turned the glass to his lips once more. His eyes widened suddenly, and a sharp pain made the glass fall from his hand, wetting his chest with the liquid; the feeling similar to thousands of needles piercing his chest made his trachea close involuntarily. He tried to scream, but he was weak. His whole body contracted, and he fell to the floor, violent spasms shaking his body. The fall made the bin and everything inside it spread, until his eyes caught the golden envelope.

Feeling a hot liquid trickling down his throat, Gold reached for the card. His head ached as he had never felt any other pain like this. As if a giant weight were being thrown at it. He opened the envelope with difficulty. His eyes were blurry and he had to force himself to read what was written. When he finally distinguished the letters and read the sentence, he understood what was happening. His body leapt into violent convulsions, and seconds later, his breath ceased, along with the amount of blood draining from his lips.

On his fingers, the little bloody card with a feminine handwriting and very well designed.

The debt was taken away, Eugene Gold.

In memoriam of Archie Hopper.