The Broken Silence

by MangoKat

A massive misunderstanding causes several operatives to defect from V.I.L.E. Carmen must now protect them before they're hunted down and killed. As Team Red fight against V.I.L.E, they begin uncovering a disturbing web of mysteries involving kidnap and murder. Everything always seems to point back to a certain mime. Who is Mime Bomb, and why does everyone seem to want him dead?

33. The Transplant

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The Broken Silence

Chapter 33

The Transplant

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The red sport's car screeched to a halt in front of the hospital, gaining the attention of everyone nearby. Before the car was even placed into park, Shadowsan jumped out of the car with Carmen in his arms and ran for the doors to the emergency department. Without so much as a backward glance at Chase and Julia, he burst into the hospital, and ran for the triage nurse.

Upon seeing the older man carrying the bleeding girl, the nurse immediately ran for a gurney, and then paged for the doctor. Shadowsan laid Carmen down on the gurney, and the nurse placed a gloved hand over the wound, doing her best to stem the bleeding as two other nurses ran to assist.

As Carmen was wheeled into the emergency department at a run, Shadowsan followed behind them worriedly.

"What happened?" the doctor demanded as she quickly approached.

"She was shot," Shadowsan quickly explained, "She's lost a lot of blood."

The doctor lifted Carmen's shirt, and barely had to glance at the wound before ordering Carmen to be taken to surgery. By the doctor's grave expression, Shadowsan knew the injury was serious, and he could only stand there helplessly as Carmen disappeared out of his sight. Shadowsan stood there, his shirt drenched in blood, and he forced himself to take a deep breath to calm himself. It would do Carmen no good if he wasn't in his right mind, and he had to trust the doctors to save her.

Chase was wheeled past Shadowsan a few moments later, his leg still bleeding heavily, and Julia hovering by his side. Chase was fully conscious, and he gave the other man a worried look as he passed, but he didn't say anything, in too much pain to speak.

As Chase was also wheeled into the surgery department, Julia stood next to Shadowsan, simply staring worriedly at the door. She clasped her hands, hoping both of her teammates were going to be fine.

"They'll be okay, I'm sure of it," she whispered to Shadowsan, resting a hand on his arm.

Shadowsan gave Julia a severe look, remembering how she had run to Chase before Carmen after the shooting. Julia had made her choice in that moment, and it was obvious who she valued more. She had chosen Chase over Carmen. She had no idea in that moment who was injured more, and so her choice told Shadowsan everything. He had no doubt that she would always choose Chase, and this deeply angered him. His look darkened, and he jerked his arm out of her hold, moving to stand closer to the doors of the surgery department.

Julia didn't notice the anger, her gaze focused intently on the door as she wrung her hands nervously.

"What's going on?" Player's voice suddenly spoke up, "I'm showing your location at the hospital! Did something happen?!"

"Carmen and Chase were both shot," Julia replied quietly, "Chase was hit in the leg, but Carmen was hit in the abdomen. She was just taken into surgery."

"Oh my god!" Player exclaimed in horror. "I only left for five minutes! Was it an ambush?!"

Julia stepped away from the crowded waiting room. "I don't know all the details since I was with the car, but it was Dr. Vesalius who shot them. We had no choice but to leave without apprehending him, or Michael Jr."

"What can I do to help?" Player demanded, tone growing serious, "Just tell me what to do!"

Julia glanced around to make sure no one could hear her, and then she replied. "Can you fake her paperwork so the hospital doesn't get suspicious? Maybe leave notes on their files about there being some sort of accident nearby resulting in their injuries? We really don't need the police to get involved in all of this."

"Sure thing, Jules," Player replied, "I'll make sure they don't question anything about this. I'll make it seem like Carmen is the daughter of a rich diplomat, so they'll do everything in their power to save her."

"Thank you, Player," Julia said, hoping everything would turn out all right.

When Player once again went radio-silent, Julia went back to wait with Shadowsan. He had heard everything through his com, and so she didn't have to repeat anything to him. He avoided looking at her, and all they could was wait.

After only an hour, a doctor came out and approached them, and they were both immediately on edge.

"You're the family of Chad Devins?" he questioned.

Shadowsan seemed to deflate a bit, but Julia hurriedly nodded.

"Yes, how is he?" she demanded.

"His surgery went extremely well, and he's expected to make a full recovery."

Julia let out a deep breath of relief.

"Luckily for him, there was minimal damage to the muscles in his leg, and so he should be able to walk within a day or so, as long as he takes it easy."

"Can we see him?"

The doctor shook his head. "He'll be under observation for the next thirty minutes, but you should be able to sit with him once he's transferred to a room."

"And what about Carmen?" Shadowsan demanded, "How is my daughter?"

"Carlita Santano? She's still in surgery, and it's far too early to say as of yet," he replied.

"What can you tell us?" Shadowsan asked, desperate for any sort of good news.

"She's already had three blood transfusions, and is bleeding heavily internally," he answered sympathetically. "The surgeon is trying to find out the extent of the damage, but as of right now, it looks like her liver is perforated."

"Will she live?" Shadowsan demanded.

"I'm sorry, but it's too early to say. I promise we'll keep you informed, but I need to return to my patients."

As the doctor left, Shadowsan grew even more agitated, and he began pacing the waiting room, his hands clenched into fists.

"I just told the rest of the team what happened," Player suddenly informed them, "I arranged a private jet and they're on their way here. I hired the fastest jet I could find."

"Thank you, Player," Julia responded, "I know Carmen and Chase will appreciate them being here."

"I heard what the doctor said…" Player said a bit hesitantly, "I know Carmen will be fine; she just has to be fine!"

"Carmen will live." Shadowsan said fiercely, "She's stubborn and incredibly strong."

"I have complete faith in her." Player said solemnly.

"You're a good friend, Player," Julia told him. "Thank you for everything you do,"

"You're all my family," Player answered, "I'll do everything I can for you guys. Always."

"Carmen cares about you too," Julia stated quietly.

"I'm going to keep working on these hospital files, but I'm listening if you need me," Player told them.

Julia took a seat near the window, but Shadowsan kept pacing, keeping his eyes on the door the entire time. After another two hours, a doctor finally came out, but by his grave expression, they knew it wasn't good.

"You're the young girl's family?" the doctor questioned, looking down at his chart. "Carlita Santano?"

"I am her father," Shadowsan instantly replied, "How is she?"

"The bullet pierced her liver, and she lost a lot of blood. We did everything we could, but I'm sorry to say we're not able to save the liver. She's going to require a liver transplant."

"When will the liver arrive?" Shadowsan asked, getting a very bad feeling.

"There's a long waiting list for liver transplants, and even if we push her ahead on the list, it will still take too long to arrive. She only has hours to live if we can't get a liver."

"Then...what can we do?" Julia asked.

"Does she have any family we can check for a compatible liver?" the doctor asked, staring at Shadowsan expectantly.

Shadowsan grimaced, knowing the chances of any of them being a match was slim to none. "No blood relatives since she's adopted, but our whole family would be willing to get tested."

"Just because you're not blood related doesn't mean the liver won't be a match, but it makes rejection a larger possibility," the doctor explained, "Ideally we prefer to use siblings or cousins, but in this case we have no choice. If the two of you are willing, we'll test your compatibility right now."

"Of course," Shadowsan said immediately.

Julia nodded her consent as well.

"Perfect, please come with me," the doctor directed, "Hopefully one of you will be a match."

They followed after the doctor without hesitation.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You're certain?" Dr. Bellum asked in surprise.

Vess gave her a nod. "Completely," he assured her confidently, "I shot Carmen Sandiego."

The faculty stared at him in shock, unable to believe the doctor did what so many others had failed to do. Dr. Vess just happened to be in the right place at the right time, and he may have killed V.I.L.E largest obstacle.

"You don't know if the shot was fatal?" Maelstrom asked with a frown.

Vess shook his head. "Not for sure," he replied, "I was aiming for her heart when I was attacked by Shadowsan. My shot missed and hit her in the abdomen instead. I was a bit distracted with Shadowsan and so I'm not certain whether the shot was fatal. She lost a lot of blood however, and it's likely I hit her liver or intestines."

Just for a moment, a brief look of pain crossed Coach Brunt's face, but she quickly masked the look almost as quickly as it had appeared.

Dr. Bellum drummed her fingers on the table thoughtfully, and she stared at Vess as if considering something. "We don't have any operatives in Kazakhstan to confirm her death," she stated with a frown, "I'm not willing to risk your life by sending you to find her."

"He's just a doctor," Countess Cleo said derisively, "We have dozens of others."

Vess clenched his hands into fists furiously, but he said nothing.

"No!" Dr. Bellum snapped at Cleo, "He is my favourite doctor, and I need him for my experiments!"

Cleo rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Saira, you get way too attached to the people working for you. Dr. Vesalius can defend himself fine. Send him to confirm."

"No," Professor Maelstrom cut in, surprising her. "The doctor must return to his lab as soon as possible. There has been an incident."

Roundabout leaned forward across the table. "Oh? What sort of incident?"

Bellum and Maelstrom turned to stare at him, and for just a few seconds, Roundabout felt like his worth was being assessed. Maelstrom then rolled his eyes, and turned back towards Vess.

"Your lab partner was sedated, correct?"

Dr. Vess frowned at the mention of Siren and he nodded. "Yes, there was an accident I was dealing with before I got called away," he replied evasively, glancing at Roundabout out of the corner of his eye.

"What kind of accident?" Roundabout demanded. "I never heard about any accident."

Vess narrowed his eyes at him, but kept his tone respectful as he replied. "Lab accidents happen all the time, and they normally aren't the sort of thing I bother the head faculty with."

Roundabout scratched his chin with a frown. "But yet both Professor Maelstrom and Dr. Bellum were made aware of it?"

"Dr. Bellum is my boss," Vess replied with a shrug, "I report most things to her. As to who she chooses to share that information with is none of my business."

Roundabout narrowed his eyes. "What was the accident?"

"Do you really care?" Cleo asked, wrinkling her nose.

"All that science stuff is for nerds," Coach Brunt commented, "No offense, Bellum,"

"None taken," she replied with a shrug, "I am indeed a 'nerd'. I'm not ashamed of my intelligence."

"Yes, I do want to know," Roundabout insisted, "What exactly is happening in Dr. Vesalius' lab?"

Vess glanced to Dr. Bellum, clearly curious what she was going to respond with.

"Oh, he's just working on the usual stuff," Dr. Bellum answered with a dismissive wave of her hand, "Creating vaccines, creating viruses, advancing the mind-wipe technology. Nothing too interesting."

Roundabout glanced between Dr. Bellum and Maelstrom and didn't miss the look they exchanged between themselves. Yes, these two were definitely hiding something.

What was the accident?" he asked, certain it was somehow important.

It was Professor Maelstrom who spoke up this time. "Dr. Vesalius' lab partner cracked under the pressure of hard work, and he had a breakdown. I was tasked with evaluating his mental well-being. Nothing too unusual for scientists under tight deadlines."

"And you mentioned he was sedated?" Roundabout asked, knowing there was more to this than they were saying.

"Yes, I had no choice but to sedate him for his own safety," Vess answered. "He has been overworking himself and not getting enough sleep, and so I sedated him so he would be able to recover."

Roundabout didn't believe Vess for an instant, and he gave him a scrutinizing look. There was something decidedly off about the doctor, and Roundabout didn't trust him in the slightest. If they were hiding something from the rest of the faculty, that meant whatever Dr. Vess was up to, was something so terrible that Bellum and Maelstrom were trying to hide it. What could possibly be worse than viruses and mind control?

Dash Haber had mentioned that Crackle's mind had been experimented on, and Roundabout felt like this was somehow connected. Everything seemed to be connected. At first he'd been angry that Otterman and Moose Boy had given themselves away to Team Crackle, but now he realized this may have been for the better. They were now in the perfect position to learn what was going on. Why would Dr. Bellum damage Crackle's mind in such a way if he was one of her favourite operatives? Did he learn something he wasn't supposed to? This was getting stranger and stranger.

"We will have to wait to confirm Carmen Sandiego's death," Coach Brunt commented. "If she's dead, then we shouldn't have any more issues when it comes to missions."

"I vote we just wait and see," Cleo commented.

"I think Team Crackle should verify this," Maelstrom stated with a frown.

"It may take her a while to recover, depending on where the bullet hit her," Vess pointed out.

Dr. Bellum nodded her agreement. "I will leave them in San Diego for the time being," she stated, "If there's no sign of her within a few weeks, we'll disband Team Crackle and pull them out of San Diego."

"Agreed." Maelstrom said, steepling his fingers together. "We have no choice but to wait for now."

"I still think we should use the doctor," Coach Brunt said, "But I'll go along with your plan."

Roundabout really wanted to question them more on this lab of Dr. Vesalius', but didn't want to draw too much suspicion towards himself. Roundabout was a smart and extremely cautious man, and this was how he had survived as a criminal for so long. He never took unnecessary risks, and he always made sure his every move was carefully calculated. He would wait for now, and simply observe, and hope he'd soon get more information from Team Crackle. If the team was disbanded, he might never find out what was going on. He needed to delay Team Crackle from disbanding for as long as possible.

"I agree as well," he said, surprising the others. "Waiting is all we can do for now. Team Crackle should continue patrolling and keeping an eye on things in San Diego."

Cleo rolled her eyes, not really caring. "Fine, whatever, but I want my hench model back. His replacement is absolutely abysmal , and I'm sick of dealing with it. Imagine trying to suggest that I , Countess Cleo, wear polyester ! Can you believe the nerve?! It took every bit of my self-control not to throw him to Brunt's dogs!"

Coach Brunt gave her an unimpressed look. "Polyester? Oh no, the horror…" she responded sarcastically.

"I know!" Cleo announced, not picking up on the sarcasm. "At least Dash Haber is a little more competent. Why he wanted to be a field operative is beyond me."

"Fine, fine, whatever!" Dr. Bellum said impatiently. "Take your pretty model back, but the rest of Team Crackle stays put for now."

Everyone nodded their agreements, and Dr. Bellum disconnected the cable from her tablet, and Dr. Vess disappeared off the large viewing screen, the call now exclusively on her tablet.

"Now, Dr. Vesalius, there was something important I needed to discuss with you in regards to your lab partner."

Dr. Vess raised a brow. "What is it? Something terrible happened, didn't it?" he asked with resignation.

Dr. Bellum left the faculty room as she nodded. "Well, it looks like the guard-dog you left to protect our resident little songbird has turned on him."

Dr. Vess was taken by surprise. "What?!"

"I've received reports that Siren's guard has turned on him, and he was stopped from killing him by a doctor. The guard then overpowered the doctor, and ran off with Siren. When the other guards tried to come to Siren's rescue, they were shot at, and Siren's guard escaped into the lower basement with him. He's planning on dismembering Siren, and the guards are doing everything they can to get to them, but they can't get to the lower basement."

Dr. Vess heaved a furious sigh, and then swore. Something always had to go wrong. Why was it that nothing could ever go right for him?

"Terrence has been nothing but loyal to V.I.L.E," he commented angrily, "This is highly unusual."

"Deal with this, Numa," Dr. Bellum ordered, "We cannot allow Siren to be killed,"

Vess knew the chances of Siren still being alive at this point were highly unlikely. V.I.L.E had lost their most valuable operative and there was nothing he could do about it. In an instant, Vess had lost everything he had worked for. He had no choice but to hope by some miracle Siren was still alive.

"I'm leaving now," Vess assured Dr. Bellum.

"Our fastest jet will meet you at the airport," she replied.

Once she had disconnected the call, Vess let out an angry curse. If a single hair on Siren's head was damaged, he would tear that guard limb from limb. That guard would experience the worst death of any human in history. Vess scowled at his com, not realizing his every move was being watched.

Michael Jr. gave a long, lazy stretch and then reached for the nearby take-out box. Taking a bite of the now cold food, he watched Vess as the man paced the room while on the phone. His expression was furious, and Michael hoped this anger wasn't soon going to be directed at him. Raising a hand to his throat, he winced when his fingers found the tiny cut Vess had left there with the scalpel. Normally when Vess hurt him, he always made sure to clean and treat the wound afterwards, but this time he hadn't. The call had distracted him, and he'd left Michael to deal with his injury himself.

Michael glared at the phone, wondering what could possibly be that important. Whatever it was, it was making Vess angrier by the second, and Michael watched in mild alarm as Vess swore at whoever he was speaking with. A few moments later, Vess ended the call and then raised a hand to his face in frustration.

"What?" Michael questioned.

"We have to leave immediately," Vess replied, heading over to gather his belongings together.

Michael took another bite of his food. "Why?"

"Because I said so," Vess snapped impatiently.

Michael chewed for a moment before answering. "Okay...but...why?"

Vess glanced over at him with an impatient look. "The guard I left in charge of Siren went rogue and kidnapped him. Apparently, he's threatening to kill Siren, and the other guards trapped him down in the lower basement. They can't get to him, and there's no one else on site with clearance to go down after them."

"Oh," Michael responded, quickly losing interest. "Just let him kill the little goblin."

"Go get ready to leave," Vess snapped at him, "And Siren is too important to my research to ever allow to be harmed. He's more valuable than every person in that lab combined."

Michael rolled his eyes. "What makes him so special?" he demanded, "Isn't he like retarded or something?"

Vess shot him an annoyed look. "The term you're looking for is intellectually disabled, Michael, and no, Siren has a few cognitive impairments, but his intelligence is fully intact."

"I hate that little asshole," Michael complained, "Why do you need him, when you have a whole lab full of nerds?"

Vess picked up his bloodstained coat and frowned down at it before tossing it into the nearby garbage can.

"Siren is the only person who knows the lost Volkov research. He has an eidetic memory, and so somewhere rattling around in that mind of his is the information I need. Whatever those people did to him buried his memories so deep that I haven't been able to access them yet. I've been making progress, and hopefully soon Siren will be able to remember the information."

Michael let out a snort. "I bet the little asshole has known it all along."

"Go get ready to leave," Vess ordered, flashing him a glare. "I won't tell you again."

"I am ready," Michael responded, "I don't have anything to bring. It's not like I brought a suitcase from prison."

Vess narrowed his eyes for a moment, but didn't comment. Instead, he approached Dustin's dead body and knelt down beside it to search it. He pulled a cell phone out of the boy's pocket, and then turned to Michael

"Is this what was used to record your video?"

When Michael nodded, Vess dropped the phone to the ground and stomped on it as hard as he could.

"Can't you use one of the original test subjects to get the information you need? Like, I saw something on tv once where they figured out how something worked by taking it apart."

"Reverse engineering," Vess replied as he turned away. "If you ever paid attention to anything I tell you, you'd know that there are no test subjects left. Absolutely everyone in the original lab died in the fire except for Siren. He's the only thing I have."

Michael seemed a bit puzzled. "No, there's a test subject still alive. I assumed you knew since he was in V.I.L.E…"

Vess turned around to face him so fast, Michael jumped in surprise.

"What?" Vess demanded, "What do you mean by that?"

Michael set his take-out aside and slipped off the table to approach him. "There's a test subject still alive," he repeated, "I met him."

Vess was instantly skeptical. "And what made you come to the conclusion he was a Volkov test subject?" he demanded.

Michael scratched the back of his head for a moment before he responded. "He has the silver markings in his eyes - the ones you told me about."

Vess was standing in front of Michael almost instantly. "How do you know these were the markings I told you about?"

"I tortured that asshole for three days straight, and so I got a very close look at those eyes. I didn't notice right away because his eyes were blue, but when I was about to gouge one out, I saw the silver starburst, just like the ones you described."

Vess seized Michael by the sides of the face and stared straight at him, trying to detect any hint of deception. Although Michael looked a bit startled, there were no signs of deception at all.

"You're sure?" Vess demanded, his tone firm.

Michael shifted a bit uncomfortably, but he didn't dare pull away. "Uh, yeah," he replied.

"Describe to me what the silver starburst looked like," Vess ordered.

"Erm, I dunno, that was months ago…"

Vess gave him a hard shake. "Think, Michael, think!"

"Okay, okay, geez."

Michael thought back to when he'd first discovered the markings. He'd been slicing the clown's chest with a knife, reveling in the tears he caused, when he'd decided to step up his game. Pinning the smaller boy beneath him, he brought the knife to one of the eyes, and he remembered the pure terror that had haunted those blue eyes. That's when Michael noticed there was something strange about the clown's eyes. Leaning in closely, he stared into the eyes, not quite understanding what he was seeing. When he realized what the starburst was, Michael had pulled back in surprise, knowing he couldn't kill him.

"The silver starburst was only on the left side of each iris," Michael said, his gaze distant as he struggled to remember. "It looked silver from the front, but when I looked at it from the side, it was like gasoline and looked kinda purple or blue. It was hard to see because his eyes were so blue."

Vess had never told Michael these details before, and knew that the boy was correct. One of the experiments had survived. Vess hadn't heard of the Finnegans torturing any operatives, and had no idea who it could be.

"Which operative was it?" he demanded.

Michael gave a shrug. "I have no idea, the stubborn asshole wouldn't talk to me, even when I began peeling skin away."

"What did he look like?"

"Skinny, red hair, blue eyes."

Vess tried to think of an operative who matched that description. "How old did he look?"

Michael shrugged again. "My age, I guess?"

Vess stepped back as he went through all the red-haired operatives he could think of.

"Oh, and he was dressed as one of those French clowns - the black and white striped ones."

Vess instantly knew who it was. "And you didn't think to start by telling me the operative was a mime?!" Vess snapped at him.

Michael shrugged for a third time, and Vess thought back to all the interactions he'd had with Mime Bomb, which weren't many. The boy had been a shy and anxious mess during training, and Vess had never put much thought into him. He now cursed himself for not paying closer attention, and couldn't believe one of the experiments had been so close to him all this time. Mime Bomb was the last surviving piece of Volkov's work, and now he was out of V.I.L.E's reach. Now it all made sense why Team Red had worked so hard to protect the mime. They must have known about Volkov, and realized who Mime Bomb was.

Vess scowled, having no idea how he could get his hands on Mime Bomb. Team Red weren't likely to give him up, and he had no real plan as of yet. No matter the consequences, he needed to get his hands on that mime.

"Why didn't you tell me any of this sooner?" Vess demanded angrily, "You've known this for months and only now mentioned it?"

Michael winced, and backed up a step just in case Vess tried to slap him. "I forgot about it until I saw the mime again when they attacked my father's base. I meant to tell you, but then got arrested, and well...yeah. Sorry."

Vess heaved a sigh and rested a hand on Michael's shoulder. "We'll have to figure this out later," he commented, "Team Sandiego is in Kazakhstan and they know where we are. Let's get to the airport, and return to Russia, deal with the Siren issue, and then come up with a plan."

"Leave Team Traitor to me, Numa!" Michael said, puffing out his chest heroically. "I'll kill them all and bring you Carmen Sandiego's head on a pike!"

Michael raised his fists and lashed out as if hitting imaginary foes and Vess raised a single eyebrow in a mixture of exasperation and impatience. He placed a gentle hand on Michael's arm but the boy was clearly getting worked up over the thought of fighting.

"I'll tear them limb from limb with my bare hands!" he vowed.

"Calm down, Michael," Vess ordered, with a sigh, "You're not fighting Team Red."

Michael paused and glanced up at him. "Well, I'd fight them for you without hesitation if you asked me to."

"I know you would," Vess told him, leaning down to give him a quick kiss.

Vess then pulled a face and frowned at his partner. "Your breath tastes like onion," he commented, "Eat a breath mint or something, it's gross."

Michael rolled his eyes. "Always such a romantic, Numa."

Taking Michael by the elbow, Vess motioned towards the door. "Come on, we need to go."

"What about Dustin?"

"Who?"

"The guy you shot in the head?"

"Oh, him. Forget about him. V.I.L.E will send someone to clean up this mess shortly."

Michael gave a shrug, glanced down at Dustin one last time, and then followed after Vess without a word. They headed for the door and a few moments later, they were in the car on the way to the airport.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Shadowsan sat head in hand, never feeling more helpless in his life. Carmen was dying and there was nothing he could do about it. Neither he nor Julia were matches for an organ donation, and Carmen was barely holding on. The rest of Team Red were on their way to Kazakhstan, but he worried they wouldn't make it in time. Even though they had a large team of people to test once they arrived, the doctors weren't confident in finding a match. Carmen had blood type O- which was fairly uncommon, and she needed to find someone who not only had the same blood type, but also who matched the tissue type. Carmen had no living blood relatives and so the chances of a match were slim to none. Player had gotten in contact with several shady people in the hope of obtaining a liver, but so far they hadn't been able to find a match.

The doctors were keeping Carmen in surgery in the hopes of getting a liver shortly, but Carmen was getting worse and worse. Within hours, she would succumb to her injuries, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

Shadowsan clenched his hands into fists, and closed his eyes in frustration. He still remembered the first time he had held Carmen in his arms, the tiny baby staring up at him with tear-filled blue eyes. He had stared into those large and frightened eyes, and knew there was no way he was leaving her behind. Looking down at that small baby had made him feel something he never had before, and he knew he would do everything in his power to protect her for the rest of his life.

Carmen had always been a smart little girl, but always too trusting. She blindly gave her trust to everyone around her, and he had scolded her for it many times as she grew, but it was something that seemed to be ingrained in her very nature. He knew she was too trusting, and had failed to protect her. He had failed her.

Shadowsan clenched his fists so tightly, his nails cut into his palms.

He had watched Carmen grow up, and he had loved her straight from the start. He'd had to be stern and a bit distant with her, but he had enjoyed watching her grow up. He remembered the hundreds of times he'd told her stories, and helped her practice her stealth skills, and he missed those days. Carmen was no longer a child, and she had placed her trust in the wrong person. Shadowsan hadn't been fast enough to reach her before the trigger had been pulled.

Dr. Vesalius was a dead man if Shadowsan ever got his hands on him. He would make that man pay for what he did, and Shadowsan didn't care if he had to take down all of V.I.L.E in order to do it. Vess was going down.

He felt a gentle hand placed on his arm, and he glanced up to see Julia's concerned face. She didn't say anything, but she gave his arm a light squeeze, offering her silent support for what he was going through. They were seated by Chase's bedside, but the other man hadn't woken up yet. It had taken a lot of Julia's skills of persuasion for them to even be allowed in there, and the private room was a lot more comfortable than the crowded waiting room.

The doctors had been in to see them several times to provide updates on Carmen's condition, and Shadowsan dreaded each time the door opened, always knowing it was bad news. He had a feeling that it was only a matter of time for the door to open with the news Carmen had died on the operating table. Shadowsan wasn't prepared for that to happen, and honestly had no idea what his reaction to it would be.

" Hrnghhh ."

Shadowsan glanced over at Chase, as Julia stood and approached the bed. Chase shifted a bit, but his eyes remained closed.

"Chase?" Julia said softly. "Can you hear me?"

" Urrgh ."

Chase's eyes cracked open, and they immediately focused on Julia. "Yu Yan?" he whispered out in longing, reaching for her.

Julia placed a hand on his shoulder, knowing he was confused from the anesthesia. She gave him a sad frown and shook her head.

"No, Chase, it's Julia."

Chase stared at her face for a long moment, and then he grimaced, raising a hand to his head.

"Julia...right...sorry."

Julia offered him a smile. "It's okay, Chase."

"How is Carmen?" he asked, glancing around.

"She...she's not good," Julia admitted, "She needs a transplant, but they can't get a liver fast enough to save her. Shadowsan and I weren't matches, and the rest of team are on their way to get tested as well."

Chase lowered his hand from his face. "Did you test me?" he questioned.

"They had to wait for you to wake before they could test you," she replied.

"Test me," Chase ordered tiredly, "Take whatever she needs from me."

Shadowsan didn't need to be told twice and pressed the nurse-call button. Within seconds a nurse entered the room, and when she saw Chase was awake, she hurried to his side.

"Do you need help, Sir?" she asked with a thick accent.

"Test me to see if my liver is a match for Carmen," he ordered.

"The young girl in surgery?" she questioned.

Chase nodded. "Take my liver,"

The nurse gave him a nod. "I'll inform the doctor and we'll test your blood."

She hurried from the room without another word, and Chase sat up, still a bit dizzy from the anesthetic.

"Why can't they get a matching liver?" he asked.

"Carmen is an uncommon blood type and only a donation from another O- can be used," Julia explained, "Do you know your blood type?"

Chase shook his head.

Shadowsan began pacing, his normally stoic expression agitated. "What is taking them so long to get here?!"

"She only left a minute ago," Julia pointed out kindly, "Give her a few minutes."

Shadowsan stared at the door with a scowl. "I am going to see where the doctor is!"

He barely even took a step when the nurse returned, carrying a basket with the supplies for drawing blood. Shadowsan watched her like a hawk as she approached Chase and began getting the disinfectant ready.

Chase held out his arm without hesitation, and the nurse tied off his arm with a band and then swabbed his arm. Chase watched as she drew several vials of blood, and once she had it, she passed the blood to her assistant who practically ran from the room. She swabbed the spot and then placed a bandage on his arm.

"We should find out very shortly if you're a match," she informed Chase, "Don't eat or drink anything in case we need to take you back into surgery."

Chase gave her a nod, and she hurriedly headed for the door, obviously planning on catching up with her assistant.

"The jet lands in two hours," Player informed them, "I'm still trying to find a liver close by, but I'm not having any luck so far."

"Keep trying," Shadowsan ordered.

Player hesitated a moment before responding. "I'll do my best, I promise. Carmen's my best friend. If my blood type wasn't AB, I would have offered to donate."

"We know you would have," Julia assured him, "You're a good friend, and we appreciate you. Please just be careful dealing with these people."

"I always am," Player assured her, "I'll check back in soon."

Julia then turned her attention back to Chase, realizing they hadn't even asked how he was. "How is your leg?" she asked him in concern.

"Numb," Chase responded, "Do they have me on painkillers?"

Julia's gaze went to his IV and then she nodded. "Morphine."

Chase nodded. "How is my leg?" he asked.

"The bullet didn't hit any bone, and luckily the muscle damage is minimal," Julia replied. "You'll be able to walk on it within a day or so if you're careful."

"Have you seen Carmen?"

Julia shook her head. "They won't let us see her since they're keeping her in surgery in the hopes of a liver donation."

Chase averted his gaze, having a feeling things were a lot worse than Julia was letting on. If Carmen was still in surgery then she was dying as they speak while she waited for the liver.

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence and Chase watched Shadowsan pace as they waited for the blood results to come back. The minutes seemed to drag by like years, and when the door finally opened, they looked up hopefully at the doctor who entered. His face was grim however, and he shook his head.

"I'm sorry, but you weren't a match," he stated, "We just had to do another blood transfusion on her, but she's deteriorating fast. If we can't locate a donor soon, we won't be able to save her. I'm so sorry."

"The rest of our family will be here in an hour," Shadowsan responded, his expression quickly becoming desperate. "Hopefully there will be a match!"

The doctor looked away and Shadowsan didn't miss the way the man grimaced. "She...she may not last another hour," he told them hesitantly, "You need to prepare yourself for the worst. We're doing everything we can, but she's getting weaker and weaker…"

No one was expecting Shadowsan to suddenly grab the doctor by the front of his shirt and shove him hard against the wall. They stared in shock as Shadowsan pinned him to the wall, his expression absolutely devastated.

"You will keep her alive, do you hear me? She will make it until we get her a liver!"

"I'm sorry," the doctor said, "I wish I had better news for you. We will do everything we can to keep her alive."

The doctor didn't struggle against him, his gaze pitying and before Shadowsan could say anything else, Julia gently pulled him away from the other man.

"No, this won't help!" she scolded.

Shadowsan knew she was right, but he felt so helpless, and it was infuriating. He had trained nearly his entire life to survive and to fight, but nothing had ever prepared him for this. Julia pulled him back to his chair and he allowed it, all fight leaving him as his anger was replaced by despair.

"Shadowsan, we just have to trust the doctors," Julia said to him calmly, "They're doing everything they can."

Shadowsan said nothing, and simply stared at the floor as Julia and Chase exchanged a look. Chase knew what it was like to lose someone you loved, and had a feeling Shadowsan was going to spiral if Carmen didn't pull through. He knew there was nothing anyone could say to him to make it any better, and so he said nothing at all.

The wait was painful, and no one felt like speaking and so they sat silently, the air heavy with tension. When the door opened, they all turned to look apprehensively, fearing the worst. To their relief, it was the rest of their teammates.

"How is Carm doing?" Ivy immediately demanded, "Did she get a liver yet?"

Shadowsan had already reached for the nurse call button and didn't answer.

"She's barely holding on," Julia responded, "None of us were a match."

"Test us," Zack ordered, "We're all willing to donate if that means saving her life! Take anything you need from me!"

Everyone nodded their agreements. A nurse entered the room and when she saw the large group of people, she immediately turned and left again, clearly running for the doctor. Within seconds, she was back with her blood cart and assistant, and she looked around at the six newcomers.

"Is everyone being tested?" she demanded.

"Yes," Shadowsan answered for them, "Test them all, and hurry!"

The nurse handed every newcomer a form to fill out and while they all wrote, Shadowsan paced impatiently. Once the nurse had the forms, she then began drawing blood from each and every person, writing their names on the vials as she did so. When the last person's blood had been taken, she handed the basket of vials to her assistant who immediately took off at a run out the door. The nurse gathered her belongings and then rushed after the other woman.

"How are you doing, Chase?" El Topo asked in concern.

"I'm perfectly alright," Chase assured him, "Nothing that hasn't happened to me before."

"I'm just not understanding how this happened," Tigress commented, "Player said it was Vess that shot her?"

Shadowsan nodded angrily. "She put her trust in the wrong person, and she paid for it dearly," he responded, "Dr. Vesalius will pay for this."

The cold, hard anger in his eyes was terrifying and Tigress simply nodded, having a feeling this wasn't the time to talk about this. For about twenty minutes, they had awkward and stilted conversations, and when the door opened, they all eagerly turned to see if it was the nurse. To everyone's surprise, it was a couple strong-looking male nurses that entered the room, and they were pushing a gurney.

"There was a match!" one of the men announced.

There was a collective sigh of relief from everyone in the room.

"Okay, we need Martin Bombosa to hop up on the gurney," one of the nurses said.

Everyone turned to stare at Mime Bomb in surprise. He suddenly looked incredibly nervous, but he still quickly approached and crawled up onto the gurney.

"Okay, we're taking you to surgery where you'll get dressed into a hospital gown and then get that makeup washed off," one of the men said.

Mime Bomb turned terrified eyes towards Zack who was by his side in an instant.

"Can I go with him?" Zack asked, "He doesn't like hospitals."

"Only as far as the surgery change room," the nurses replied, opening the door. "We have to hurry,"

Zack seized Mime Bomb's hand, and as the nurses pushed the gurney out of the room at a run, he gave the other boy a reassuring smile.

"You're going to be fine, buddy. You're saving Carmen's life. I promise I won't leave your side for an instant once you're out of surgery."

Mime Bomb was incredibly close to having a panic attack, this whole situation eerily close to how he spent four years of his life. Hospitals and doctors terrified him, and he squeezed Zack's hand, struggling to remain calm. The only thing that kept him on that gurney was the thought of Carmen dying. He was the only one that could save her life, and he owed her everything. If it wasn't for Carmen, he never would have been rescued from the Finnegans and he never would have met Zack. Although he was scared, he was going to remain strong for her.

Zack followed him straight to surgery and Mime Bomb was quickly changed into a hospital gown as a couple nurses scrubbed off his makeup. As he was once again wheeled off, he glanced back at Zack who watched helplessly as he disappeared into the OR. Zack stared for a few minutes at the closed door feeling incredibly worried, but knew there was nothing more he could do. Hoping Mime Bomb and Carmen would be alright, he turned and headed back for Chase's room.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When Neal finished his incredibly long shower, his foot was so swollen, he could barely even stand on it. Knowing he'd once again messed it up, he had a feeling he was going to be off this leg for a few days. Having to sit down on the edge of the bathtub to get dressed, he glanced at his leg and saw it was once again turning purple from the bruises. Wincing in pain as he tried to bend his ankle, he let out a sigh, and dried himself off. Once he was dressed, he found he couldn't put weight on his foot and so he gripped the handicap bar beside the bathtub and pulled himself up onto his good foot.

Opening the door, Neal saw Dash was watching tv, Otterman appeared to be sound asleep, and Moose Boy was nowhere in sight. Hopping out of the bathroom on his good foot, Neal made his way towards his bed as Dash gave him a snotty look. He stared at Neal's tacky zebra-striped shirt, and then rolled his eyes.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Hurt my foot, and now I can't walk on it," Neal explained, sitting down beside Otterman.

Dash glanced down at his foot and quickly saw that it was bruised pretty badly. "Is it broken?" he asked, the tiniest hint of concern in his tone.

"Naw, I just dislocated it and then walked on it a bit too long."

"Idiot," Dash muttered.

Neal flopped back onto his pillow, and then glanced over at Dash. "You're looking extra freckly today, Fancy," he teased.

"What?" Dash demanded, glaring over at him, "What are you talking about?"

"I don't know why you bother with make-up, I think the freckles add character," Neal responded.

Dash frowned at him and then reached for his com, using the camera as a mirror. He stared at himself with wide and horrified eyes, realizing all of his makeup was gone. He'd been so sick, he hadn't even realized someone had washed it off. Had he been like this the entire three days?! Sitting up, he felt himself flush, realizing he'd allowed his perfect appearance to slip.

Clutching his side, Dash slipped his feet out of bed and then carefully stood, wincing in pain.

"Er...you okay, fancy?" Neal asked, "You need help?"

"I'm fine," Dash snapped, taking a few slow and cautious steps.

Crackle said this was the day he could walk on his own, but he was still in a considerable amount of pain. Hoping his fall out of bed the night before hadn't done any damage, Dash just took it slowly, hand pressed firmly to his side. Neal watched him head to the bathroom in concern, and once he was gone, he turned his attention to the cat that was glaring at him from Dash's bed.

"Hey puss-puss," he greeted.

Steve hissed at him.

"Now, what happened to you?" Neal asked, observing the missing eye and mangled ear. "You scratch Paper Star?"

This did not seem like the type of cat Dash would allow anywhere near him, and Neal was curious about how Steve had won him over. If Neal so much as accidentally brushed against one of Dash's blankets, the other man had a conniption, but yet a very dirty alley-cat was allowed to sleep there?

"It must be your cheery personality," Neal commented in amusement as the cat hissed at him again.

"Neal, shut up," Otterman complained without opening his eyes. "You're too loud."

Neal rolled his eyes and then went quiet, glancing at the tv to see what Dash had been watching. It looked like some sort of nature documentary on wombats. Dash must have been pretty bored to watch something like that and Neal was amused. Only a moment later, Dash opened the bathroom door and without a word, he headed for his bag to grab a change of clothes. Breathing against the pain, he hefted his bag up onto his bed and then opened it. Dash then paused as he stared down into his bag.

"Did you mess with my bag?" he demanded, shooting Neal an accusing look.

"No," Neal answered truthfully.

"Everything in my bag has been rearranged," Dash stated, narrowing his eyes at the other man.

"I haven't moved off this bed since you left," Neal responded with a shrug.

Dash narrowed his eyes and then dug through his bag, looking for anything that was missing. When he discovered his most prized possession was nowhere in the bag, Dash felt a wave of panic come over him. He then looked up at Neal with a furious expression.

"Where is it?!" he hissed, "Give it back, you greasy sneak-thief!"

"Where's what?" Neal asked, "I never touched your bag."

Neal turned to face him, expression darkening. "This isn't funny, Neal. Give it back! It's special to me, and I want it back now."

"Dash, I never touched your stuff," Neal responded, furrowing his brow.

"Neal, this isn't a joke!" Dash snarled, "It has sentimental value, and I want it back right now, or I'm going to bash your greasy head in!"

Neal was starting to get annoyed. "I've been back for like three seconds and you're already blaming me for things! I didn't touch your bag, Dash Haber."

Dash scowled at him and then took a few steps over to Neal's bag and picked it up. Unzipping the bag, he dumped the entire contents on the floor, but didn't find what he was looking for.

"Satisfied?" Neal demanded, crossing his arms.

Dash shot him such an angry look that it actually took Neal a bit by surprise. "This isn't funny, Neal. Just give it back to me now! I know you did it, you're always the one who does shit like this!"

"I didn't take anything!" Neal snapped.

Otterman's eyes were wide open and he slowly looked over his shoulder at Dash. No one noticed the guilty look on his face, the other two men too busy glaring at each other.

Dash started approaching Neal's side of the bed, and it was obvious he was getting angrier and angrier by the second.

Dash stood hands on hips and glowered at Neal who was quickly getting annoyed as well.

"Give. It. Back." Dash ordered. "Give it back now, or I'm going to make you regret it."

Neal narrowed his eyes, and didn't move. "You can barely even walk, princess, how do you expect to do anything?" he demanded.

Dash grabbed him by the front of the shirt, and yanked him up so they were face to face. "Where the hell is it? Did you break it? Where is it?"

Neal was quickly losing his patience and he shoved Dash away from him harshly. Dash stumbled backwards against the nearby desk, but caught himself before he fell. Before he even realized what he was doing, he grabbed a hold of the motel phone, ripped it from its cords and smashed it into the side of Neal's head.

Otterman scrambled off the bed as Neal fell backwards, staring with wide eyes at what was happening around him. Neal clutched the side of his head for a few seconds and then without a single word, he lashed out with his good leg and kicked Dash square in the crotch. Dash hit the floor with an agonized screech, and clutched at himself as Neal sat back up. Otterman slowly edged his way towards the door, and then slipped outside when no one seemed to be paying him any attention.

Dash took a few deep breaths, and cursed Neal as he tried to push past the agony he was in.

"You done now, you drama queen?" Neal demanded, glaring down at the other man. "I said I didn't touch it."

Dash's response was to punch Neal as hard as he could in the injured ankle, and Neal let out a howl of pain, not expecting the sudden attack. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he looked up just as Dash swung a fist at his face. The punch connected solidly with Neal's cheek, and Neal was knocked flat on the bed before he had time to react. Dash was panting from the pain these movements caused, but he pinned Neal down with the intention of hitting him again.

Neal was officially mad now, and using his forehead, he smashed his head into Dash's face as hard as he could. Dash fell backwards, and in an instant, Neal reversed their positions. Having no idea what Dash's problem was, Neal wasn't about to just lay there and allow himself to be assaulted, and he lashed out, hitting Dash solidly in the jaw. Dash laid dazed for a second and then kicked Neal in the ankle, and this time, Neal felt something snap.

Neal was too furious at this point to even react to the pain and he grabbed Dash by the hair just as the door opened. They glanced up briefly, saw it was Otterman and then went back to struggling against each other. Neal didn't release his hold on the hair and jerked Dash's head back, just as Dash began clawing at Neal's throat.

Neal pressed a hand into Dash's stomach who instantly howled in absolute agony, and Neal looked up just as Otterman hurriedly shoved something into Dash's bag. Neal gave him a look of realization, and Otterman froze in terror when he realized he'd just been caught. Neal simply stared at him without a word, and Otterman had a feeling he was about to get hit very very hard. To his surprise, Neal didn't say anything, and instead blocked an elbow aimed at his gut and once again seized Dash by the hair.

It was then that the door opened a second time and Crackle walked in. He immediately stopped and stared at the scene that met him. Neal and Dash were in the middle of a very bloody fight, and Neal had Dash pinned beneath him, his fist raised in the air about to bring it down. Although incredibly relieved to see Neal, he was furious that once again the two men were fighting. Charging across the room, he grabbed the back of Neal's shirt and yanked him off Dash harshly. When Dash lashed out, Crackle caught his fist before it could land and pushed him down onto the mattress with a warning look.

"Enough!" Crackle yelled, "What the hell is the matter with you two?! Why can the two of you never get along for even two minutes?!"

"He stole something from me!" Dash snarled, struggling against Crackle's hold. "Something sentimental!"

Crackle glanced over at Neal, who was now seated on the other bed.

"Just give whatever it is back, Neal."

Neal wiped the blood from his face and glared at Dash. "I didn't take anything!"

"You're a liar!" Dash snapped, "You're always the one who pulls shit like this! I wish you hadn't come back!"

"Neal, give Dash back what you took right now." Crackle ordered, narrowing his eyes. "Stop trying to antagonize Dash!"

Neal was furious, and got up from the bed, carefully balancing on his good foot. "You know what, you guys? Whakianga mai! The both of you!"

Without another word, Neal headed for the door, using furniture to balance himself as he limped along. Crackle watched him go with an angry frown, and as Neal reached the door, Double Trouble and Paper Star walked in.

"Neal!" Theodore exclaimed with a happy smile, "You're back!"

Neal shoved past them without a word, and they stared after him in confusion as he hopped his way across the parking lot to the pool. He took a seat in one of the lawn chairs at the pool's edge, and didn't so much as glance back at them.

Crackle was mad, and finally released Dash. "Where did he go? Did he just leave?"

"He's sitting by the pool," Roosevelt responded, "What happened?"

"Neal was antagonizing Dash and I scolded him for it," Crackle responded with an irritated sigh.

"I want it back, Crackle, make him give it back!" Dash snarled, still shaking in rage. "He crossed a line."

"I'll speak with him in just a minute," Crackle promised, "You'll get whatever it is back. Now sit there and keep your mouth closed until I'm ready to deal with you."

Dash scowled at him, but he did go silent, trusting Crackle to handle the situation.

Now that the fight had been dealt with, Crackle glanced at Otterman with a frown, and then at the hissing cat.

"Can someone please explain to me why there's a stranger in our motel room? And why is there an absolutely hideous cat on Dash's pillow?"

Otterman stared at Team Crackle and wished Moose Boy was there, because he was suddenly feeling incredibly intimidated.

"Oh, that's Otterman," Dash replied with a shrug. "Roundabout sent them here to San Diego."

Crackle stared at Otterman knowing the other man's reputation, and he gave him a frown. "Why?" he asked.

Otterman knew that since their cover had been blown, he had to think of an excuse why they were staying at the same motel as Team Crackle. "We were sent to help your team," he quickly replied, "Roundabout thought you could use a bit of extra assistance."

Crackle narrowed his eyes suspiciously while Dash gave him a look of complete disbelief.

"Um," Roosevelt said a bit hesitantly, "But...you both kinda...suck."

Otterman flushed. "You can use all the help you can get against Team Red since they outnumber you," he pointed out, "At least now the odds are a little more even."

Dash let out a snort. "Having you on our team worsens our odds."

Crackle was suspicious, and frowned at him. "Aren't you supposed to be recovering from getting shot?" he questioned.

"Er...yeah," Otterman admitted, "I won't be able to fight for a few more weeks, but Moose Boy is able to."

Crackle stared at him and could clearly see the nervousness. Something wasn't right here, and he was going to find out what it was. "I'm going to call Dr. Bellum about this," he announced.

Otterman quickly panicked. "Wait!" he cried out.

Crackle raised a brow in question.

"Roundabout instructed you to call him directly and he'd explain everything," Otterman informed him, praying that Roundabout would back him up on this.

Crackle gave him a long and hard look, and then reached for his com which was on the nearby desk. "Very well. I'll contact Roundabout to find out why he sent you to me."

Crackle then stepped outside the motel room to make the call, and Otterman sank down onto one of the beds, feeling like he was waiting to find out if he was going to die. Paper Star passed him by without a word, and the twins approached, both looking mildly curious.

"Hello," Theodore greeted, "We haven't met before. My name is Theodore and this is my brother Roosevelt."

Otterman looked up at the absolutely enormous men a bit nervously. "Er...Sven."

"Nice to meet you, Sam."

"It's Sven actually."

"Steven?"

"Sven."

Theodore paused for a second. "...Stan?"

Otterman wanted to sigh, but didn't quite trust the twins not to smack him if he did. "Ssss-ven. Sven"

"That's...a weird-ass name," Roosevelt commented. "Sss-van."

"It's Swedish," Otterman responded, "It's quite a common name where I'm from."

"Oh, well, welcome to the team, Gwen," Theodore greeted, sticking out his hand to shake.

This time Otterman did sigh, but he still accepted the friendly handshake. Otterman was feeling absolutely awful, and his whole body seemed to be aching in want of the painkillers, but he was determined to ignore it. Dash was right when he said he shouldn't need them any more, and he was angry and embarrassed over everything that had happened.

"Are you hot?" Theodore asked, "You're sweating."

Otterman could feel Dash's gaze on him, and he turned his eyes to the floor. "...I'm just not used to the heat in San Diego," he lied.

"Want me to put the air conditioner on for you?" Theodore asked, already heading over to it.

Despite it being in the middle of the summer, Otterman was actually feeling freezing cold. "Uh, no, I'm alright," he assured him.

Dash was dabbing the blood off his face, and was still looking incredibly furious. Otterman felt really bad for accidentally stealing something sentimental, and so he'd returned everything he'd taken from the suitcase. He assumed the item in question was probably the fancy watch, but since he wasn't certain, he'd returned everything except for the cash. After a few minutes, Crackle returned, and he gave Otterman a nod.

"Roundabout confirmed your story and stated that I am in charge of you two until further notice."

Crackle didn't exactly look happy over this, and Dash mirrored the unhappy look.

"Crackle, we already have six people in this motel room."

"We have our own room," Otterman responded, "Henrik and I will be staying there."

Crackle frowned, not liking the idea of the two operatives being out of his sight. He didn't especially trust them, and still knew something seemed off about the whole situation. He couldn't go against faculty orders however, and so for right now, Otterman and Moose Boy were part of Team Crackle. The room was too crowded as it was, and he knew it made sense to divide his team between two rooms.

"What room number are you staying in?" Crackle demanded.

"Room 43," Otterman answered.

Crackle shook his head. "No, you'll move to the room beside this one," he ordered, "Where is Moose Boy?"

"He left to go to the pharmacy," Otterman responded.

Crackle looked him up and down. "You don't look well," he observed, "Is he getting you medication?"

Otterman flushed again, and averted his gaze, and Crackle narrowed his eyes.

"What aren't you telling me?" he demanded.

"Um…" Otterman said, trying to think of how to phrase this, "I...er...had an accident with my medication last night…"

Crackle narrowed his eyes further. "Oh?" he questioned.

"He accidentally overdosed on painkillers last night and almost died," Dash tattled, looking disinterested. "Moose Boy and I had to stay up all night dosing him with Naloxone until he recovered. The reason he looks so sick is because he's going through withdrawal from the drugs."

Crackle let out an aggravated huff. Great, this was exactly what he needed right now. He glared at Otterman and then held out his hand.

"Give me your medications," he ordered.

"I don't have it," Otterman answered, feeling completely humiliated. "Henrik took my pills away."

Crackle nodded. "You are not allowed to touch any medication without my express permission from now on," he said in a warning voice, "So much as glance at an Advil and I will make you regret that decision, is this understood?"

Otterman gave a silent nod, still not making eye contact, and this seemed to satisfy Crackle.

"Until you recover from your back surgery and your withdrawal, you are not to be left by yourself. While the rest of us are out on patrol in the mornings and evenings, you will remain here with Dash. Give me any trouble, and you find yourself beaten and tased, am I clear?"

Again Otterman nodded.

Crackle stared at him for a few moments, and then turned his gaze to the cat. "Now, can someone please explain why there's a dirty street cat in here?"

"Er...you brought him here," Roosevelt explained.

Crackle turned to look at him. "What?"

"You brought the cat here right before your seizure. It seemed to be very important," Theodore told him, "I think he's part of some sort of plan you came up with."

Crackle felt a bit flabbergasted, and he again stared at the cat, having no recollection of this at all.

"You said his name was Steve," Roosevelt helpfully added.

Steve...why did that name feel so familiar to him? He stared at the orange cat, and tried to remember anything from before his seizure. Everything was a blur, but he seemed to recall something about a cat.

"Did I say why it was important?" Crackle asked.

The twins both shook their heads no, and so he approached the cat with a frown. Steve immediately arched its back at him and hissed, and Crackle didn't dare reach for it. If he said the cat was important, then it must have some sort of purpose. Was it something to do with V.I.L.E? Was the cat one of Dr. Bellum's experiments? Should he call her and ask? He quickly shook his head at that thought. No, if he asked about it then she'd know about the seizure and he would likely end up punished because of it. Roundabout had informed him about Dash's call and so he was relieved the hospital visit had been authorized.

"I picked up cat supplies," Roosevelt said proudly, "I got everything a cat needs."

Crackle glanced around the room and observed the various cat items.

"Enough about Steve!" Dash snapped, "What about Neal? Go get my stuff back!"

"Explain to me what happened," Crackle ordered.

"I went to the bathroom and when I came out, and went to my bag, some of my belongings were missing. He was the only one that could have done it! He's trying to mess with me!"

Crackle heaved a sigh. He was relieved Neal was safely back in their team, but also exasperated over the man immediately causing trouble.

"What did he take?"

Dash hesitated. "Something important to me."

"Yes, but what was it?"

Dash seemed inclined to evade the question, because he glanced away as he answered. "He knows what it was. Just get it back."

Crackle sighed yet again. "Dash, just tell me what he took."

"No."

Crackle wasn't expecting this, and was taken a bit off-guard. "What? Why?" he demanded.

"No, because I'm not going to be judged by you assholes," Dash snapped irritably, "Just make him give it back, and I'll let this go."

Crackle stared at him for a moment, wondering what possession Dash could possibly have that he didn't want the rest of the team to find out about. Was it something against V.I.L.E's rules? He stared at him long and hard for a few moments and then decided to not make a big deal out of it just yet.

"Very well," he replied, "I'll go speak with Neal."

Crackle left the motel room and glanced towards the pool, seeing Neal was still sitting there, staring at the water. Crackle made his way across the parking lot, and the moment he neared Neal, the man's expression turned thunderous. Crackle simply took a seat beside him, and then watched him for a moment, waiting for Neal to acknowledge him. Neal glared at the pool for a minute or so, before finally turning his eyes to Crackle.

"I'm glad you're back," Crackle told him, "We were all worried about you."

Neal narrowed his eyes at him and said nothing. Crackle had never seen Neal this angry before, and was curious over it.

"How did you escape?" he asked.

Neal let out a snort and crossed his arms, turning his gaze back to the water.

"Neal?" Crackle questioned, "Can you answer me?"

"Like you actually care, Crackle," Neal muttered.

Crackle frowned. "What's bringing this on?" he demanded. "You were only there for three days, and we were coming for you, Neal. We were planning a raid on their base to get you back."

"Right," Neal responded, not sounding at all convinced.

Crackle gave Neal a considering look, trying to figure out what was the matter. "Neal, tell me what you're thinking," he ordered, "What's causing this attitude? You're never like this."

Neal glanced back at him. "I've been back for like two seconds and I immediately get blamed for everything that goes wrong. I know that you guys find me annoying, but I would have at least expected you to give me the benefit of the doubt. I'm not a liar."

"You're saying you didn't take anything out of Dash's bag?"

"I never touched his stuff."

It was true that Neal never seemed to lie, and although he was at times irritating, he was surprisingly honest with all of them. There was a raw and betrayed look lurking in Neal's eyes, and Crackle saw no signs of deception. He gave the other man a nod of understanding.

"I believe you," Crackle told him.

The angry look lessened a bit, and Neal frowned at him skeptically. "You do?" he questioned.

Crackle nodded. "You're right, you're not a liar, and I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. I know Dash would never show it, but he was just as worried as the rest of us about you. I'm glad you're safe, and I'm sorry I failed you. You never should have been taken in the first place. It might have taken us longer than expected, but you're part of our team, and we'll always come for you."

Neal stared at him in silence, and although he didn't say anything, the anger was quickly melting off his face. "I didn't take anything from Dash," he repeated after a few moments.

"And I said I believe you," Crackle assured him. "I will continue to believe you from now on until the day it's proven you're lying."

Neal let out a deep breath, and then nodded. "What about Dash? He seems convinced it was me."

"Leave Dash to me," Crackle responded, "I'll talk to him for you."

Neal gave another nod.

Crackle got up from his seat, and then gave Neal a frown when he didn't move. "Are you coming back inside?" he asked.

"I'd love to, but I should probably go to the hospital…"

Crackle looked Neal up and down, but didn't see any serious injuries. There was a bit of blood and a few bruises, but other than that, Neal looked fine.

"Why?" Crackle asked, "What happened?"

"Dash broke my ankle during his hissy fit."

Crackle's eyes widened and his gaze immediately traveled down to Neal's feet. Sure enough one of his feet was looking a bit swollen and so he knelt down and carefully pushed up Neal's pant leg. When he saw the black ankle, he gently touched the bruises with a couple fingers, and Neal jerked back in pain, letting out a curse. Crackle let out a curse as well, knowing this was really going to affect their team.

"I'll be right back," Crackle told him, standing up. "Don't try to walk on that foot."

Neal gave him a salute, and Crackle turned and headed back for the room. Dash was in trouble. When he opened the door, everyone looked up at him, and he narrowed his eyes at Dash who glowered in his direction.

"Well?" Dash demanded.

"He didn't take it," Crackle told him, struggling to keep hold of his temper.

"He did too!" Dash snarled, clearly getting worked up again. "He's just trying to save his own a-"

"Enough." Crackled snarled. "Go recheck your bag."

"I already checked and it's not there." Dash snapped.

"Check. Again."

Glaring at Crackle, Dash carefully got up from his bed and then reached for his bag. Hefting it up onto the bed, he unzipped it and then glanced through.

"Like I said, not there." he commented in a rude tone of voice.

"Search more thoroughly than that." Crackle ordered. "Perhaps you placed it somewhere else, or maybe it slipped underneath something."

Dash sighed and then began pulling everything out of his bag. When he emptied the main compartment, he then began emptying the bag's pockets. Reaching his hand down into one of the back pockets, he suddenly froze. Crackle saw the change in expression, and he crossed his arms.

"Well?"

Dash remained frozen in place for a moment and then slowly pulled something retangular and gold-coloured out of the bag. His face was flushed, and he was carefully not looking at Crackle.

"Is that what you were looking for?" Crackle demanded, already knowing by his face that it was.

Dash mutely nodded.

"You attacked your teammate, accused him of stealing from you, and made a complete fool of yourself all over nothing." Crackle scolded angrily. "Your temper is out of control, Dash Haber, and I've had enough of your moodiness. You and I are going to be having a serious conversation about this as soon as I return from taking Neal to the hospital."

"Hospital?" Otterman questioned in surprise.

Crackle nodded, not once taking his eyes off Dash. "Neal's ankle got broken during the fight. Now he's probably going to be off that leg for weeks."

Dash still didn't look up, and Crackle had to fight to keep his temper in check.

"Are you injured as well, Dash?" Crackle demanded.

Dash shook his head without a word.

"You owe Neal an apology, and this is never going to happen again." Crackle said firmly.

The thought of having to swallow his pride and apologize was too much for Dash, and he finally looked up. "He probably just put this back when no one was looking! Even if he didn't steal it, he probably did something else to deserve it anyway. I'm not apologizing to that slimy-"

Crackle slapped Dash across the face before he could get out another word. The slap hadn't been hard, but it was enough to jar Dash into silence. Clutching at his cheek, he stared at Crackle with wide and betrayed eyes, but said nothing.

"I'm too angry to even deal with you right now," Crackle snapped, turning away. "Roosevelt, come with me; we're taking Neal to the hospital."

Roosevelt gave a glance to Dash, and then nodded, turning to follow after Crackle.

"I'll call you if we're going to be longer than a couple hours," Crackle told everyone else, "I'm going to call to get permission to take Neal to the hospital. It shouldn't be an issue since Roundabout stated he is taking care of medical permissions for our team."

Crackle then paused and glanced over his shoulder at Dash who was still standing there, hand covering his sore cheek.

"You'd better eat something, Dash, or I'm not going to be happy when I return," he warned, "You give me even one ounce of trouble, and you are not going to like the consequences."

Dash said nothing at all, and so Crackle turned and left the room without another word. Roosevelt patted Dash on the shoulder as he passed, and then he too left the room. Once they were gone, Dash lowered his hand away from his face, and then clenched it into a fist. Avoiding eye contact with the other three people in the room, he flopped down onto his bed and then faced the wall, incredibly embarrassed.

"Erm," Theodore said, trying to break the awkward silence in the room. "Do you want to play cards with me, Gwen?"

Otterman felt unbelievably guilty for causing all of this, and he knew he owed Neal an apology as well. He was actually surprised that Neal hadn't tattled on him, and was grateful for that small bit of mercy. He'd never really been nice to Neal, even during their time at the academy, and Otterman wasn't sure how he felt about this.

"If you don't know how to play, I can teach you," Theodore volunteered.

"Sure, I'll play with you," Otterman replied.

"Paper Star?" Theodore questioned.

"What game?" she demanded.

"I don't care," Theodore responded, "You can pick."

Paper Star considered it for a moment and then nodded.

Theodore hesitated a moment and then glanced over at Dash. "Dash? You want to play?"

"No."

"Are you sure? It'll be more fun with four people."

Dash didn't answer, obviously sulking.

"Okay, suit yourself," Theodore responded.

The three operatives took a seat on one of the beds and as Paper Star began to deal the cards, Dash let out a groan of misery and pulled a blanket over his head. He had a feeling Crackle was not going to let this whole thing go.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The sound of the hustle and bustle within the airport echoed off the tall ceiling, the constant chatter and announcements blending together into a dull drone as a woman exited the baggage claim area. She paused for a moment to check her watch. She had scheduled for extra time in case there was a delay, but had ended up arriving much earlier than she needed. She tapped her foot as she considered her options, and then decided it wouldn't hurt to stop for a coffee before she left the airport.

As if on cue, her stomach suddenly rumbled softly. She glanced around until she spotted a cozy looking coffee shop and headed in its direction. While she was waiting for her drink to be made, she noticed a little donation box sitting on the countertop. She didn't understand the main text, but luckily there were English and Arabic translations on the bottom, and she saw that it was a charity for the children's hospital. She quietly stuffed a generous tip into the box before the barista came back with her order: a hot coffee and strawberry scone.

The back wall of the coffee shop was covered by a large mirror, probably to make the shop look bigger than it really was. She noticed her reflection as she sat down and reached up to adjust her hijab. It was her favorite one, a dark purplish-red the color of wine, and it wasn't too often she had a chance to wear it. She had figured a business trip was as good a chance as any to dress up, since she rarely left her home in Yemen.

She sat deep in thought as she sipped away at her coffee, going over various scripts in her head that she'd been practicing for the meeting. She loved her country, but when it came to the media, it seemed like world news outlets were always either painting Yemen in a terrible light or ignoring it entirely. Lately it seemed they were leaning toward the latter, and she had been noticing a decline in donations to her charity programs. Hopefully she'd be able to secure some more funds during this trip.

After a while she finished her coffee and got up to leave, tugging her luggage bag along behind her. There was a bit more energy in her step now thanks to the caffeine, and she silently went over her schedule in her head as she walked, calculating the time she would need for everything despite still being well ahead. She noticed someone standing by the window ahead and did a double take.

No, it couldn't be. She abruptly froze in place, nearly causing someone behind her to trip over her bag. A momentary wave of panic swept over her. It was impossible. At least, it felt impossible, after all this time. Her breath became a bit shallower. What was she supposed to do? What was she supposed to feel? The flurry of anxiety gave way to an odd sense of determination, the cacophonous drone of the airport fading away as she approached the person at the window.

It really was him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dr. Vess stood by the window in the Astana Airport, listening to Michael talk about his adventures in jail. He'd switched out his usual white coat with a comfortable black jacket since he hadn't had time to remove the bloodstains.

"Did I mention he used broken glass to do it?" Michael was bragging about the new tattoos on his knuckles. "Fucking badass, am I right?"

"You're incredibly lucky you didn't get an infection. Besides, you know it's spelled incorrectly, don't you?" Vess pointed out, " 'Your dead?' "

"No it's not," Michael immediately denied, "You just don't get it."

"Explain it then," Vess raised an eyebrow.

Michael stared up at him and fidgeted for a moment before changing the subject. "Did I show you my new gun?"

"Don't you dare bring that out, you idiot," Vess scolded him, "We're in an airport. Try to lay low for once."

Michael's hand was already halfway into his bag, and he retracted it with a pout. "You're so boring."

"I just don't want you do you anything stupid for a while."

Michael gave him a cocky smirk. "Aw Numa, you know me better than that."

Vess stared down at him, looking like he was about to scold him again, but couldn't help the smile that came across his face as he chuckled. Michael beamed up at him, proud that he was one of the few people that could make Vess laugh. He opened his mouth to say more, but the words failed to escape as he noticed someone approaching them. He looked over Vess' shoulder at them, and Vess noticed the confusion on his face. Before he could ask what was wrong, he heard a soft, unsteady voice behind him.

"...Numa?"

Vess turned around and his eyes widened as his gaze fell upon the last person he expected to see.

She stepped closer to him. "Is...Is it really you?" she asked. They stared at each other for a long moment, both unsure of how to react.

Michael slung an arm over Vess' shoulder jealously, giving a dirty look to the woman standing in front of them. "You know this bitch?" he asked rudely, looking her up and down. "Why's she on a first name basis with you, huh?"

Vess shrugged his arm off with a scoff. "It's nothing like that."

"Well who is she then?" Michael crossed his arms, looking at Vess expectantly.

"Michael, meet…" Vess hesitated, rubbing the back of his head nervously before gesturing to the woman as if to present her. "...My sister, Karam."

Michael's arms fell to his sides as he looked back and forth between them in shock, realizing how alike they looked. "You never told me you had a sister!"

"We haven't been in contact," Vess answered curtly.

Karam huffed. "That's because you stopped contacting-!" She cut herself off and took a deep breath, raising her hands slightly to calm herself down before speaking again. She looked up at him again, a pained look in her eyes. "Numa, where have you been?"

Vess shifted uncomfortably. "I've been working. I am a very busy person."

"A doctor?"

"A surgeon," Vess stated matter-of-factly. "...Among other things."

"Just like you always wanted," Karam nodded with a small smile. Vess didn't smile back, and so there was an awkward silence between them. She hesitated, rubbing her hand up and down her sleeve before finally speaking up again. "Numa...why did you leave?"

"Yemen wasn't safe at the time. I left to complete medical school," he answered stiffly, "You know that."

Karam shook her head. "No, I mean why did you leave us? Mama and Baba, they were worried sick for the rest of their lives. How could you just abandon your family like that?" She was looking up at him with an expression of genuine hurt, but he was avoiding her gaze.

"Oh please, it was for the best," Vess scoffed. He turned to look out the window, watching as a plane rolled by until it ascended into the air, the lights around the runway dancing against the glass. He spoke again, his voice softer this time. "It's not like you wanted me around anyway."

Michael, who had been listening quietly, tilted his head in curiosity. He wasn't used to hearing Vess talk about his family - In fact, up until now he had known next to nothing about them.

Karam stared up at Vess in disbelief. She suddenly switched to speaking in Arabic. [[How could you say that? Of course we wanted you around!]] She stepped to the side and leaned closer in an attempt to look Vess in the eye despite him being turned away. She looked over his face, seeing how, underneath the longer hair and dark circles around his eyes, he still looked just like the younger brother she remembered. How could someone look so familiar and yet so distant?

[[Numa, we loved-]]

[[Stop,]] Vess held up a hand to silence her. He turned to face her again, looking down at her coldly. [[No, you didn't. Perhaps you thought you did, but I fail to see how you could love someone you are so afraid of.]]

Karam went quiet, a combination of several emotions passing over her face before settling on a look of pure pain and sadness.

Michael sat down on a nearby chair. He'd accepted that they'd long since started ignoring his presence, and was keen on watching the drama unfold. At the moment, he had no idea what they were saying, but the look on the girl's face was enough to amuse him.

Karam wiped away a tear and her expression changed to one of anger. [[We weren't afraid of you, we were concerned! You did things no child should have been doing, and yet you saw nothing wrong with it. Do you have any idea how patient Baba was with you? He tried to help you.]]

Vess waved a hand dismissively. [[An overreaction. They were stray, diseased animals, Karam. They would have died on the streets anyway. I was simply taking matters into my own hands and educating myself about anatomy - It's why I'm so good at what I do.]]

Karam let out a sharp, humorless laugh. [[Oh really? And what exactly is it that you do?]]

[[I am a surgeon, as I said,]] Vess replied dispassionately, [[My job is to help people.]]

Karam smiled. It wasn't a smile of humor or joy, but of barely contained grief and ire. [[No,]] she shook her head. [[No, Mama and Baba were doctors because they wanted to help people. They cared about other human beings.]] She looked into his eyes challengingly. [[You became a doctor because you like to play God.]]

Vess narrowed his eyes at her but said nothing.

[[You hid it well from our parents,]] she continued, [[But not from me. I saw it happen. I saw the look in your eyes.]] She glanced away for a moment, taking in a shaky breath. [[I saw how you changed every time. The blood makes you high.]]

Vess thought about it, and his mind was filled with the coppery smell of blood. The feeling of warm, living flesh pulsating beneath his fingers. The way it made his breath quicken and his heart race. He knew she was right.

[[And what of it?]] he asked.

Suddenly a resonant clap cut through the air. Vess was taken aback, but made no sound, only raising a hand to his cheek where she'd slapped him. Karam stared up at him furiously, tears pooling in her eyes but not allowing them to fall. "All this time," she said in English, "All this time I spent hoping and praying that you were out there, changing for the better. I thought, just maybe, the only family I have left is someone worth hoping for." She clenched her jaw, fighting back the tears welling in her eyes. She straightened her back, replacing all the emotion in her voice with professionalism as she gripped the handle of her bag. "I have work to do. I'm sorry we had to meet this way."

Vess met her gaze indifferently. "I'm sorry we had to meet again at all."

One last time, she looked deep into his eyes, as if searching for something.

One last time, she found nothing.

So she left.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Mime Bomb felt a hand shaking his shoulder, but was too drowsy to react to it.

"Mr. Bombosa, can you please open your eyes?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

Mime Bomb just wanted to sleep, and ignored the stranger. She tried to rouse him a couple more times, and then gave up, allowing him to sleep a while longer. Mime Bomb slept for another ten minutes, before once again his shoulder was given a shake.

"Mr. Bombosa, can you please open your eyes?" the same woman demanded.

Mime Bomb shifted a bit, the sedatives still weighing on him heavily. He felt hands on his legs and the woman moved him a bit, before once again shaking his shoulder.

"Mr. Bombosa? I need you to wake up for now," she ordered.

Mime Bomb suddenly heard Zack's voice. "Why won't he wake up?!" he asked worriedly, "Did something go wrong?"

"Oh no, sweetheart, everything went fine," the woman assured him, "Sometimes it just takes people a little while to wake up. Your brother's responses are all excellent, and his breathing is fine. He's just a little drowsy."

"You're sure?" Zack asked, his voice sounding nervous.

Mime Bomb didn't want to worry Zack, and he shifted, trying to wake himself up.

"See? He's waking up already," the woman pointed out.

"Mime Bomb?" Zack asked directly into his ear, "You awake?"

Mime Bomb shifted again, and then opened his eyes, everything around him bleary. Zack's freckled face appeared directly in front of him, and the other boy gave him a wide grin.

"You're okay!"

Mime Bomb rubbed at his eyes, tempted to sleep more, but that idea was quickly squashed when the nurse started poking and prodding at him. He glanced down and saw she was removing several IVs from his arms, and he watched her, feeling a bit confused.

"Mime Bomb?" Zack questioned.

He turned to look back at Zack who leaned in close to stare into his eyes. Zack then began to laugh, and Mime Bomb gave him a puzzled look. This only caused Zack to laugh even harder.

"You are so high right now!" he commented, wheezing from laughing so hard. "Your pupils are huge!"

"That's a normal reaction to the sedatives," the nurse replied, rolling her eyes. "He'll come out of it in thirty minutes or so."

"Oh, geez, I'm getting a picture of this!" Zack announced pulling his com out of his pocket.

Mime Bomb simply stared at him as Zack snapped a pic of him, and he glanced around the room. He was in a room with the curtains drawn, and he assumed this must be a recovery room of some sort. Raising his hands clumsily, he signed something at Zack who furrowed his brow.

"You're gonna have to repeat that, buddy. You're signing like you're drunk."

Mime Bomb repeated the sign a bit more carefully this time, and Zack gave him a nod of understanding.

"Family?"

Mime Bomb nodded.

"Only one person was allowed in here with you," Zack explained, "Now that you're awake, they're going to put you in with Chase."

Mime Bomb's hand went down to his abdomen, and he could feel tenderness there.

"Careful!" Zack scolded, "You're on bedrest for a week, and no touching your stitches!"

Mime Bomb motioned like he was putting on a hat and then pointed to the wound.

"Carmen?"

Mime Bomb nodded, and Zack gave him a huge grin.

"She's going to be okay! Your liver was a perfect match, and she's already improving! They're going to keep her in intensive care for a few days, but the doctors say she's going to pull through!"

Mime Bomb let out a deep breath of relief.

"It's going to take her a really long time to fully heal, but she should wake up in a few hours," Zack told him, "You're not allowed to move for a week though, so you'll have to visit with her using video chat."

Mime Bomb gave a nod, and the nurse once again shifted him slightly.

"You need to take things very easy for the next two months," she warned him, "No sports or anything too strenuous. It will take time for your liver to repair itself."

Mime Bomb's eyes widened. Two months?! Zack saw his horrified look and gave him a sympathetic look.

"Sorry, man, sucks I know," he commented, "You just got your arm back, and now you have to remain in a wheelchair for a while."

Mime Bomb gaped at him. A wheelchair?!

"Sweetheart, you're getting too worked up," the nurse commented, "You need to stay calm and rest."

She then turned to Zack. "He needs to rest a bit more before he's ready for company," she stated, "I'm going to ask you to please return to the rest of your family for a couple hours."

Zack frowned. "I promised him I wouldn't leave his side…"

"He's just going to take a nap, and then when the doctor gives the okay, he'll be brought in to the hospital room with your uncle."

Zack turned his gaze to Mime Bomb, who seemed rather uncertain. Zack immediately shook his head.

"Sorry, I'm not leaving him. He's scared of hospitals and I won't leave his side. I'll let him sleep, and I swear I won't disturb him," Zack promised.

The nurse gave him a look of disapproval. "If I hear you say a single word to the patient, I'll have to have you escorted out of the recovery ward."

Zack nodded his agreement.

The nurse gathered her supplies together and then walked out of the curtain without another word. Once she was gone, Mime Bomb shot Zack a grateful look who simply smiled. Mime Bomb signed 'thank you' at him who immediately signed back 'you're welcome' , knowing the nurse didn't realize Mime Bomb used sign language.

Zack leaned back in the visitor's chair and closed his eyes, and Mime Bomb realized the other boy was planning on napping while he did. Absolutely exhausted, Mime Bomb allowed his eyes to close and within seconds he had fallen back to sleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Shadowsan stared down at Carmen, and gently took her hand in his. She was hooked up to dozens of tubes and machines, and she looked so small laying there that it was gut-wrenching. Although she hadn't woken up yet, Shadowsan was remaining diligently by her side, ready to defend her at all costs if necessary. The doctors were confident everything had gone well, but until she woke, they wouldn't know for certain.

As her father, Shadowsan was the only one allowed in intensive care with Carmen, and Player was keeping everyone informed with what was happening between Chase's room, Mime Bomb's room, and Carmen's room. The boy hadn't slept all night, and was clearly starting to lose steam. Everyone had tried to order him to bed, but he insisted on staying awake until Carmen woke.

None of the others had slept a wink all night either while Mime Bomb and Carmen had been in surgery, too worried to do anything but wait. When they were informed both surgeries were successful, everyone was relieved.

Shadowsan glanced at the equipment that surrounded Carmen's bed, keeping a close eye on the numbers in case anything began to change. When Carmen suddenly let out a low groan, Shadowsan attention snapped to her in an instant, and he reached out a hand to gently cup her cheek.

"Carmen?" he questioned.

There was another groan, and she shifted ever so slightly.

"Can you hear me?" he whispered hopefully.

Carmen cracked open a single eye, and Shadowsan smiled at her, now certain she was going to be alright.

Shadowsan ran a hand through her hair, and she blinked a few times, and simply looked up at him, her mind still fuzzy from the anesthetic.

"Carmen?" he asked.

"Hi," she replied, her voice small and tired.

She offered him a small smile, but it was obvious she was exhausted.

"Carmen's awake!" Player crowed out excitedly.

There was an immediate chatter in the coms as everyone began speaking at once in excitement, and Carmen looked a little bemused, her coms still online.

Her limbs felt too heavy to move and she tried to focus her thoughts, but everything seemed to be in a fog.

"How are you feeling?" Shadowsan asked gently.

"Tired," Carmen admitted, "What happened?"

Shadowsan hesitated. "You don't remember?"

Carmen shook her head.

"Well, don't worry about that right now," he replied, "You need to rest, and focus on getting stronger."

Carmen furrowed her brow, feeling like she was forgetting something incredibly important. She was tired, but she fought against it, trying to organize her thoughts. She was clearly in a hospital, and by the pain in her abdomen, it was probably safe to assume she'd been operated on. Her eyes travelled the room, and she saw the tubes and wires that surrounded her on every side, and she frowned. Alright, so it was a serious operation.

The last thing she remembered was being on a mission...a mission to capture Michael Jr. Carmen let out a gasp, her eyes widening in horror. Vess! Dr. Vess had turned on her, and he shot her! Carmen turned pale, and her heart monitor began to beep more quickly.

"Carmen?" Shadowsan asked in alarm.

"Vess!" she gasped out.

"Shh, shh," Shadowsan said soothingly, "Do not think about that right now. You need to remain calm."

"Vess shot me!" she said in alarm.

"You are going to be alright," Shadowsan assured her, resting a hand on her shoulder.

Carmen struggled to sit up, but he held her down, his expression turning stern.

"No, you have to remain down," he ordered, "You are still very weak, and you are not ready to sit up."

"He shot me!" she repeated, "Vess shot me!"

Shadowsan nodded, and Carmen's expression became stricken. "I-I thought… Vess… I thought we were friends."

"I doubt Dr. Vesalius has any friends," Shadowsan informed her.

Carmen stared up at him with a humiliated expression. "I'm an idiot… I feel so stupid. I trusted him, and I almost died because of it…"

Shadowsan nodded. "You never should have trusted him," he agreed, "But you got lucky, and you did not die. You are still with us, and that is all that matters for now."

Carmen squeezed her eyes closed and silently shook her head, a single tear escaping her eyes. Shadowsan brushed it aside, and then rested a hand on top of her head.

"You are a kind and generous soul," he told her, "You wanted to believe the best of Vess, but he was loyal to V.I.L.E. You made a mistake, but now you know better. We'll learn from this and not make the same mistake twice."

"I ruined everything," Carmen replied, still not opening her eyes. "We had a chance to capture the V.I.L.E surgeon AND Michael Jr. and I ruined it."

"You did what you thought was right," Shadowsan assured her, "I promise we will talk more about this when you're feeling a bit better, but for right now, you need to rest."

"I'm glad you're okay, Red," Player said softly in the com, "I was really worried."

Carmen didn't respond.

"You're my best friend...my first friend, and you mean a lot to me. We all love you, Carmen, and believe me when I tell you, that no one blames you for anything."

There was a murmuring of agreement from everyone else, and Carmen gave a very small smile.

A doctor suddenly entered the room, and Carmen and Shadowsan glanced up at her as she approached the bed.

"You're awake!" she exclaimed with a smile, "Excellent!"

Carmen didn't answer, feeling too tired to bother.

"You're a lot more alert than I was expecting, which is incredibly good. Most patients don't wake for at least a day after a liver transplant, so I'm very impressed. You'll recover in no time, I'm sure!"

"Liver transplant?!" Carmen repeated in shock.

The doctor nodded. "Luckily for you, your cousin Martin was a perfect match. Blood relatives are always the best ones to use in these circumstances."

"Brother," Carmen corrected, surprised to learn the mime had donated a piece of his liver to her.

The doctor frowned down at her chart. "If you say so…" she said hesitantly.

"How is he doing?" Carmen asked in concern.

"He's doing fine," she replied, "He woke up a while ago and is very alert, and doesn't seem to be in too much discomfort."

Carmen let out a breath of relief. "Oh, good. Can I see him?"

The doctor shook her head. "No, you need to stay here for at least three days before you can be transferred to a private room. Although I doubt it will happen, liver rejection is a possibility we have to watch for."

"When can I leave the hospital?"

The doctor gave her a shrug. "You're going to be here at least a month, if not longer."

Carmen's eyes widened. "A month?!"

The doctor nodded. "A liver transplant is a very serious procedure, and you won't be walking for months," she informed her, "You can expect to fully recover in six to twelve months."

Carmen gaped at her in absolute horror. "A year?!"

"It takes time for your body to heal after such a traumatic event," the doctor explained, "Your cous-er brother will recover a lot sooner since he only donated a piece of his liver. You have to wait for that new liver to heal, and then for it to grow inside you back to full size."

Carmen turned white as a sheet, and Shadowsan gave her a worried look, but didn't comment, not wanting to embarrass her any further. The doctor looked Carmen over for a few minutes, checked the various machines, and then left again to fetch Carmen a few painkillers. As soon as she was gone, Carmen looked up at Shadowsan, her expression terrified.

"A year?!" she whispered.

"It will be fine," Shadowsan assured her.

"What about our mission, what about V.I.L.E?!"

"We will find a way, Carmen," Shadowsan assured her, "Do not worry about this right now."

"I've ruined everything…"

"No, Red," Player spoke up, "We're a team, and we will always be ready to take down V.I.L.E. You might not be able to go on missions personally, but you're still our leader, and you will still be in charge of the missions. You could become me for a few months until you're back on your feet. You'd still be part of things, and you'd oversee everything."

Carmen didn't feel reassured. "Player, I appreciate the thought, but I'm just not-"

"What was that?!" Player suddenly demanded.

"What was what?" Zack demanded into the com.

"There was a loud noise. Is everything okay with everyone?"

There were a few replies that everything was fine.

"Strange, it was so loud, maybe there's something wrong with my headphon-"

Player cut off again.

"Player?" Carmen questioned.

"...It's not on your end...it's on mine," he said a bit hesitantly.

"Player? What's going on?" Carmen demanded in alarm.

"...I think there's someone in my house!" he whispered frantically.

Suddenly there was a deafening crash of splintering wood, and then the sound of Player dropping his headphones.

"Who are you? What are you-wait, wait stop! Let me go! STOP!"

"Player?"

There was no reply.

"Player?!"

There was nothing but silence.

"PLAYER!" Carmen cried out, a stab of pure fear coursing through her.

Suddenly there was the sound of the headphones being fumbled with.

"Player?" Carmen asked hopefully.

"We have the little boy," came a man's voice that was thick with a Russian accent, "You are Carmen Sandiego, yes?"

"What have you done with Player?!" Carmen cried out, "Let him go! Who are you?!"

"We will kill the little boy if you don't do exactly as we say," the man said, his tone going dangerous.

"What do you want?" Carmen demanded.

"Give us Yuri Volkov," The man ordered, "We will be in touch shortly to arrange the trade-off."

The headset then crackled as it was dropped to the floor. Team Red all sat frozen as they listened to heavy footsteps as they ascended the stairs, and there was the obvious sound of a scream and more struggling. Then there was nothing but silence.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

TBC