"Shall I pass along your contact info?"

He started to say yes. He wanted to say yes. But the word wouldn't come, and he knew why.

Like it had a million times since the last time he saw her, the memory of Carmen's eyes when she had tried to kill him came flashing back.

He didn't blame her. He couldn't. He never would blame her. None of it had been her fault. V.I.L.E had turned her into a machine. Stolen the core of her being. The part of her that made Carmen . . . Carmen.

It wasn't her fault. None of it.

All of the fault belonged to him.

How could I have thrown everything away . . .

He had promised not to hurt her again, as if that made him any less guilty. But he had stood by while V.I.L.E. took that girl and turned her into the exact opposite of everything she was, everything she wanted to be. They destroyed her heart and soul and forced her to become one of them. They set fire to her core, blocked out any memory of the hero she used to be, and they forced her to revel in it.

No, he didn't blame her.

But if she had any sense, she would blame him.

"She doesn't need me complicating her life . . ."

Because thanks to me, her life was almost completely ruined.

". . . I just – needed to know she's alright." He felt an ache in his throat as he realized what he was giving up.

A chance to see her again.

"I'll be sure to send your regards."

A chance to apologize. To tell her that if he could, he would go back and beat his past self with a crackle rod for letting V.I.L.E. do what they did to her. For not fighting for her the way she so tirelessly fought for him. To tell her that he didn't expect forgiveness.

He just wanted her to know he was so, so horribly sorry.

But he didn't have a choice. His last way of reaching her was walking out of his hospital room, and he had to let that chance slip through his fingers.

After what they did to her what I did to her . . . how could I ever face her again?

How could he think that she would ever want to see him again?

The last time she gave him another chance, he had thrown it back in her face, and thrown his lot in with V.I.L.E.. Hers, too.

"How could she not hate me . . ." He whispered to himself.

His eyes began to sting. What he wouldn't give to go back and change what he'd done. And what he hadn't done.

And what was he to do now?

He had another chance for a fresh start. ACME, at least, had forgiven him for the crimes he'd committed while back at V.I.L.E.. So where would he go?

His mind flickered to all the beautiful places he'd visited while working for V.I.L.E.. He could go anywhere. Start a new life . . . again.

But this time, of course, he would have to live with the memory of what he'd done with his "past" life. And the other life that he almost destroyed.

He knew he didn't deserve another chance.

And after everything that had happened, there was nowhere he wanted to go.

Nowhere to go but back home, to Sydney. Which would hardly even feel like a home anymore.

But at least Sydney has my favorite café, he thought gloomily.

Could he even go there?

Or would he see her every time he looked across the street, only to find that she had disappeared behind a passing car? Would he see her sitting at the table across from him out of the corner of his eye, only to look up and find that she was never there, never would be there again?

He didn't know.

But the thought of the café drew him. 8:00, Friday evening . . . maybe that would feel like home.

Maybe he wanted to be deceived. Maybe he wanted to catch a flicker of scarlet just out of vision, and believe that it could have been her. Maybe he wanted to feel that ache of never knowing if she was there. The ache of knowing that she was out of reach. Maybe he felt like he deserved it.

He knew he didn't deserve to forget how much it hurt. He owed it to her to remember.

"I've got to go back there."

That was it. Every Friday evening at 8:00, he would be there. Like some kind of weird Sabbath. He wouldn't work a job that would require him to miss it.

He didn't expect to see her again. But how could he abandon the one place he knew she would come back to if she ever needed him again?

He wouldn't try to find her. He wouldn't be able to, anyways. He had a feeling she would go back to saving the world completely behind the scenes, and if it had taken V.I.L.E. so long to track her down, he wouldn't have a chance. But she had come to him for help before, and God forbid he ever make himself invisible to her.

"It's not like she couldn't find someone else to help her. But . . ."

If there was ever any reason for her to want to find him again, he wouldn't be so cruel as to try to avoid her.

". . . I couldn't leave her in the lurch. Not again. I don't know how I'd face her but . . . how could I hide from her?"

And in a cruel and painful way, perhaps he could find some comfort in remembering the evenings he'd spent with her at the café before. He would always feel like he was waiting for her . . . knowing at the same time that she would never come.

But that was the lot he deserved, wasn't it?

He would wait.


This is the first piece of fanfiction that I've written in . . . about 3 years. I used to write Gravity Falls fanfic, but eventually gave that up. But after watching the finale for Carmen Sandiego . . . I knew I couldn't resist. Such a beautiful, bittersweet ending. Leave it to me to want to make it a little more bitter for my favorite character. XD Anyways, not sure how long this fic will end up being, but there will be more chapters. I am 100% a pantser when it comes to writing and have planned absolutely nothing, but I know there will be more. Probably (and hopefully) very soon!
Hope you enjoyed this short first chapter! I would love it if you'd drop a little review; it's been so long since I've gotten reviews. It'd make me feel like I'm back in the game, and would probably make my day.
And speaking of days, I hope you have a great one!