The wind whipped around the tops of the buildings, whistling in and out of the open spaces. Chase Devineaux dropped from the beam he was hanging on to the roof, large black boots smacking with a dull thud. He straightened up his six-foot-two inch frame, shrugging the sting of impact away from his broad shoulders. Standing with nothing as comparison but the rooftops, it was hard to tell what a large man he was, imposing and well-muscled. He was the sort of man that no one would dare to take on, be it in organized fighting or a barroom brawl.

His intelligent hazel eyes scanned everywhere around him, searching for any trace that she had been here. He saw none but knew that meant nothing. Carmen Sandiego was a smart woman; she would hide her presence well, but he was determined to detect it anyway. The chill of the wind sent gooseflesh crawling up the skin beneath his stealth suit. He refused to wear the bright-colored, standard-issue ACME jumpsuit. He, for one, did not want to stick out like a sore thumb while tracking down a dangerous criminal.

For all his rule-breaking, it was amazing he had not been fired from his position as a Special Operative. He had no authorization to be here, particularly with the gun holstered at his side and anger burning in his heart, but he had always been somewhat of a rebel. In the light of this decade's other volatile rebellion, though, no one remembered his minor lack of respect for authority.

Besides, he was here for a reason, not just reckless revenge or self-indulgence. Most people at ACME claimed he was too close to the situation for missions regarding it, but he knew otherwise. Eve Laughlin, one of his agents and close friends, had gone missing. She was a valuable asset to ACME; she had been Agent 13 of the Babble-On case. If that had not earned her merits, nothing could have. Just thinking of her smile, smooth, sarcastic wit, savvy, and smarts made him want to punish whoever had put a hand into her disappearance, and right now, signs were pointing towards Miss Carmen Sandeigo as a prime suspect.

Drawing two fingers to his lips, he let a piercing whistle slice through the silence. He heard a hawk's cry in return; Phoenix must have found something. He whistled again as the shadow of predatory bird lit across the rooftop. Swooping down, talons flared, a large Peregrine Falcon lit on his arm, crying out. Held in its beak was a hat, a wide-brimmed brilliant red hat. Chase lifted it into his big hands as Phoenix scuttled up his arm to his shoulder, taking his perch.

"She was here. So I was right," Chase mumbled to himself. He frowned when he heard a distant sound, a roar. He recognized it as a helicopter, and it sounded like it was coming in his direction. Instead of following agent training and taking cover, he followed his gut and stood firm, watching as the helicopter approached. As it neared, he noticed Carmen Sandiego leaning out the side and smirking at him. The copter hovered over the rooftop, just inches above, and she dropped down. Though she was smiling, albeit dangerously, Chase felt not a trace of amusement.

"Chase Devineaux, you are thoroughly predictable. Somehow I knew, I just knew that you would come looking for me about this one," she announced. Her smirk still toyed on her lips, and her bright mahogany curls fluttered out behind her like a banner. "I actually had a heist planned for some items of importance in the building below your feet, but you caught on, so I postponed that rendezvous in favor of this one. Seeing you face-to-face is so much more fun,"

"Where's Agent 13?" Chase replied coldly, hand reaching down to curve around the handle of the gun. There was a reassurance in its cold metal, a promise of potential power that always soothed him. To his dismay, Carmen Sandiego, the mysterious, beautiful agent-turned-kleptomaniac, just laughed. The sound was cold but showed true pleasure, which he found surprising.

"Eve Laughlin is her name, if I remember correctly, which I'm sure I do. Why would I snatch away Miss Laughlin, or if you insist on it, Agent 13? I am fond of thievery, true, but hostages are not my style,"

"They were for the Babble-On case. You remember, you had twelve of our agents. It was Eve who stopped you almost single-handedly, so you certainly have motive," he replied darkly, adding, "And I'm not going to ask how you know her name. That information is confidential."

"How saintly of you not to ask, Chase, but I do believe you are too modest. Without you, ACME Agency could not have even begun to stop me. In fact, I would be a household name, a constant threat and source of terror for the whole world, if it weren't for you. But still, I relish in a good challenge, and you, Mr. Devineaux," she smiled dangerously. "Are a very good challenge."

"Well, you always did like a challenge, didn't you?" He answered, feeling some of his guard lower. All Carmen seemed to have in mind was talking; she was making no attempt to escape and despite all she had proven herself capable of, he did not believe murder was in her heart so he had no fears of hidden hit men or artillery.

"Yes, and you would know all about it, wouldn't you, partner?" She laughed quietly.

"I suppose I would, seeing as you and I took on every challenge we could,"

"We were stars," the oddly reminiscent note rang in her voice, strange against her role as a villainous. He looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time since she had left the agency. She was beautiful, a perfect example of the glitter, mystery, and intrigue that drew people to organized crime, but her eyes had the faintest traces of lines around them, and her mouth drooped down ever so gently. The years had worn on her, just as they had worn on him. Contrary to popular opinion, time had not stopped for Carmen Sandiego. She was as human as the rest of them. The idea was strangely sad.

"It's never been the same since," he replied. Phoenix cried suddenly, bating his wings and taking off. As he usually did when he saw this, Chase wished he could do the same. He believed it would be easier to search the sky for answers than the cold, unforgiving rooftops he was doomed to travel.

"Since what?" Her voice was quiet.

"Since you left,"

Carmen stepped towards him. He was a large man, but she only two inches shorter and equally intimidating. Her facial expression was soft, though. "I won't apologize to you for leaving, but I will say that I did not leave because of you," her voice was quiet and assured. "You were the thing worth staying for," she was suddenly right in front of him, their bodies nearly touching. His eyes traveled from her feet, wearing stylish black boots up over her bright red trench coat to her face, which was so close to his. One of her hands, lithe and delicate, caught his. He realized he was still holding her hat.

"What are you doing, Carmen?" He asked seriously. She was so close, and he felt his heart pounding in his chest, the sound reverberating in his head. It beat his thoughts against him like a mantra: Do not trust her. Do not trust her. Do not trust her.

"Something I should have done a long time ago," she answered, tilting her head up towards his. Her arms moved around his neck, drawing their faces closer. Unable to resist the closeness and her scent, fresh and intoxicating, his hands fell to her waist. Their mouth aligned, angling against one another, breath mingling, but they did not kiss. The moment was something they should have done a long time ago, but Chase could feel it in his heart: He should not do this now.

"We can't," he murmured, feeling her warm breath against his mouth.

"Chase, ever since the day I met you, you've been breaking the rules to do the right thing. For once, can't you break them to do the wrong thing?" She pleaded, sounding as if she were talking around a lump in her throat. Their eyes met, and he nodded slowly, lips catching hers.

Chase Devineaux was not a child, not an inexperienced teenager experiencing his first bumbling kiss; he had come close to being married once before, but never had anything felt like this. Every inch of his body, every strand of muscle, every fiber of tissue, every individual nerve, was alive like never before.

He was soaring with eagles.

X

It was late, almost midnight, and Chase Devineaux was filing his paperwork. For days, his mind had been scattered, out of focus, and he had let the paperwork get away from him. Guilt had turned his insides to iron over the course of the past few days; he had let Carmen Sandiego get away when he was in a perfect position to arrest her. His own foolish, unfounded emotions had drawn him in, and if only for a few minutes, he had been happy. He had also been an accomplice. As he shuffled through the folders, he heard a soft knock on the door. Wiping the frown from his features, he called for whoever it was to come in.

The Diva of Deviousness, Miss Sandeigo, herself was standing there, wearing a black jumpsuit that said ACME, a leftover from her crime fighting days. Her trench coat was draped over her shoulders. Collapsed in her long arms was Agent 13, who, though she was a petite woman, could not have been an easy burden to carry. Chase leapt to his feet.

"Carmen…" She held up a hand to interrupt him before he could speak. A dry smile came onto her full lips.

"It wasn't me who kidnapped her, Mr. Devineaux. I just wanted you to know that. Oh, and this doesn't change anything. Neither does the rooftop kiss. She was unconscious through the whole thing, so she has no idea about my involvement,"

"Thank you," he replied, moving over to her. Carmen allowed him to take the petite woman into his arms. Chase gently laid her in the only seat in his entire office, the rolling computer chair.

"There is a stipulation, a quid pro quo, for her return," her voice was almost cold, almost as callous as usual.

"Of course," his face hardened, too.

Carmen moved to him quickly, almost before he realized what she was doing. She captured him in a breathless kiss, dizzying and unearthly. There was definitive feel to it; it felt like a goodbye. "Take some credit for this one, Chase. You returned Agent 13 to headquarters and I had nothing to do with it, okay?" She was walking out the door

"That would be lying," he replied as she turned to face him. She was smirking. All traces of sadness, kindness, and passion had fallen away.

"Since when have you been afraid to break the rules?" She asked, turning and walking down the hallway. As she passed the alarm system, she kicked it. Red lights blared and sirens began to screech.

Her stride did not change at all as the lady in red slipped into her trench coat and strolled away, having alerted the police to her presence. Her complete confidence that she would not get caught was obviously catching, because…

Chase knew they wouldn't catch her this time or the next time. Maybe they would never catch her. Maybe it was better that way.

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Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters.

Author's Note: I have some basic information which I will give here:

Most references for this story came from the computer game, "Carmen Sandiego Word Detective". Agent 13 and the Babble-On case are specifically from that game.

Also, if you have any comments about the fic, please tell me. I love knowing someone read and enjoyed (or did not enjoy) one of my stories. I just really appreciate the feedback.

Finally, I have my beloved HP fic, The Hard Way, which craves reviewers. If you like HP fics, I would love for you to read it and drop me a review.

Thanks!