Ooh... thanks for the reviews, guys! This fic is just like the Energizer Bunny: It keeps going and going and going and going... (do you have the Energizer Bunny in your home countries? If not, you probably have no idea of what I'm talking about.)

I'm really proud of this chapter. It gives you a lot of insight into Wheeler's life before Linka turned up after her long absence.

I hope that the length of this fic doesn't bother you too much. It really is writing itself, and many avenues that I was planning on taking with the plot are progressing into something completely different.

So basically... I'm not really in control of the outcome. Comforting thought, ay?

Enjoy...

Disclaimer: I don't own Captain Planet, or the characters.

Alternate Destination

Chapter Eighteen

After spending so many years swimming, surfing and generally basking aimlessly in the hot sun, it was a small wonder that the word 'cancer' hadn't entered into Wheeler's vocabulary any sooner. He loved the beach, always had since a very young age. Family trips to the ocean had been infrequent in his younger years, but as he gained his willful independence later on in life, Wheeler often found himself drawn to the water.

In those days, the American would think nothing of spending several hours every 2-3 weeks attached to a surf-board and paddling around in the frothy swell. Sometimes, he would simply be content to float; bobbing over the gentle surge and concentrating on random, seemingly inconsequential thoughts.

It had started innocently enough. A small patch of discoloration that had appeared below his left shoulder, barely visible through the spattering of freckles which covered his tanned skin. It had been present during the latter part of his time with the Planeteers. Little did he know that even on that fateful, stormy night as Linka lay dying in his arms, the cancer had already spread into the soft tissue and would soon infiltrate the lymph nodes underneath his arms.

Of course, ignorance is said to be bliss. Wheeler had briefly returned to the US from the now-defunct Hope Island, wrapped in a cloud of grief and overwhelming numbness. Checking himself for medium-stage melanoma was the last thing on his troubled mind. Later on, he had come to accept the fact that had he known about the skin cancer at this crucial point, he probably would have refused treatment anyway.

So, unaware of the ticking time bomb creeping through his system, Wheeler had thrown himself into Marine training instead, desperately needing a change of scenery. Physically, he felt fine. Even the strict medical examination had failed to pick up the melanoma, although the symptoms would show themselves at a later stage.

The mole had become more noticeable after about about a year into his second contract, and it was maddeningly itchy at times. Light brown in color, the raised surface was about a quarter of an inch in diameter. The warning bells had begun tolling for Wheeler after he had accidentally nudged the afflicted area against a brick wall in a small Iraqi town called Mosul while playing football with the local kids- a popular pastime for the exceedingly quiet peacekeeping mission. It had bled for days, and Wheeler was dragged to the medical bay by a mate who had quickly recognized the symptoms.

He really hadn't expected the grim diagnoses. It had come as a total shock, and the offending mole's removal had been performed at a US hospital in Baghdad the next day. Reality soon came crashing down upon him when the doctor confirmed that the biopsy had shown that malignant cells were not only present, but invading his internal organs.

Within 24 hours, he was given approval for medical leave. He was soon on board a plane bound for the United States, still processing the chain of events which had altered his life so drastically. It was so ironic that at this crucial point in his life, when he was finally contemplating getting back in touch with Kwame and the others, that he should be struck down with advanced skin cancer.

The next six months were a blur, an altogether unpleasant memory of drips, surgery and constant vomiting. It had been Trish, his childhood friend who had taken care of him during the seemingly endless months of chemotherapy and depression. He had lost his hair after the third week of treatment, and the therapy always left him feeling weak and tired. Trish would take him to the hospital for his weekly doses, and often stayed over, as did many others from his old neighborhood. Wheeler had never lacked for friends in his life, and they had rallied around him admirably as the word had spread that he was indeed, home again.

His mother was kept out of the loop. She had enough to worry about, since the bank had been about to take her small apartment (due to the debts accumulated by her late husband). Wheeler had rung her dutifully about once a week, and she had naively believed that the phone calls were coming from the Middle East, instead of the other side of Manhattan.

Wheeler's return to health was slow. Due to the cancer's late detection, his Lymph nodes were eventually removed after several bouts of radiation failed to decrease the tumor.

Finally, after about nine months of being poked and prodded, the chemo finally ceased. His hair began to return, although it was slightly darker in color now. The nausea subsided, and he was able to wander the local vicinity unassisted, albeit briefly. The fresh air did him a world of good, although his return to some form of normalcy brought it's fair share of issues.

Trish had began spending more and more time at his apartment, and although Wheeler appreciated all that she had done for him, he had the sinking feeling that she wanted something more than friendship. Flashes of his old personality were beginning to show through again, after months in hibernation. When their friends came around to visit, Trish would either gaze longingly at Wheeler from the other side of the room, or sit beside him and become overly touchy-feely. The boys thought that it was hilarious but secretly, Wheeler was horrified.

Trisha had really sorted herself out over the last few years. She had developed into a very attractive woman, with almond eyes and wavy, light-brown hair. Trish's slim figure and confident smile would melt the hearts of most men, but he couldn't help but compare her to his beloved Linka. In all honesty, there was no comparison to make. They were both as different as chalk and cheese. There was simply no 'spark' between them: not from his point of view, anyway.

With Linka, it had been different- there hadn't just been sparks, but fireworks! Even though they had only shared a few sporadic kisses over the course of their time as Planeteers, his all-consuming passion for Linka had failed to subside over the years. In all honesty, he thought that things would eventually improve.

Wheeler had known that he was simply not ready for a relationship. As he had grown stronger, the next logical step had been to let Trish down as gently as possible. Fate had intervened however, as his Marine unit was recalled back to it's US base. After a few catch-up phone calls, Wheeler was on his way to join them (probably for the last time, since he would never be allowed to rejoin due to his health.)

He stayed on the base for a few days, listening to stories filled with both tears and laughter and signing the paperwork needed to take medical retirement. He spent the nights in the training camp tents, catching up on the most recent events. He dutifully took the daily antibiotics needed for his body to fight off the infections caused by his weakened immune system.

His prognosis was excellent. But the previous burden of ill health was now replaced by an overwhelming feeling of unease. It was almost as if another storm was brewing, that something was definitely brewing on the horizon. The uncertainty and anticipation would burn as brightly as Linka's ring, hanging around his neck and glowing in the early hours of that eventful morning before he left the military base for New York.

"Hurry up, moron."

Barbara Blight was in a foul mood. She threw a vicious look over her shoulder at Plunder, who was struggling to load the scientists luggage onto the trolley. Blight stood to the side and tapped her foot impatiently, watching her associates' shadowy form through narrowed, beady eyes.

Plunder was a little rattled himself. He was relieved beyond measure to be on the ground again, after some truly hair-raising moments in the air. The power loss had effectively shut down all U.S. air-traffic control centers, so the pilot had been forced to perform a manual landing, using only the navigation lights to guide the plane onto the pitch-black runway.

Barbara had totally freaked out during the emergency landing, shattering the cool demeanor she strove to uphold around others. While other passengers were nervously adopting the crash position, Dr Blight was screeching at the top of her lungs.

Plunder sighed and clenched his aching right palm, the flesh of which still bore the imprint of Blight's sharp nails during the descent. To his right, more luggage was finally wheeled into the carousel area, since the turnstiles were lying dormant and useless. A few suitcases fell from the top as the airline worker nudged a pillar with the trolley, scattering the bulky objects in several directions. A drawn-out sigh from behind him indicated that Blight was less than impressed, but Plunder ignored her. Patience and self-control had always been the key to a successful business and he drew upon these virtues now. The perilous flight and resulting luggage situation didn't bother him at all... it was Blight's incessant whining that was grating on his nerves.

At last, he spied the last pale pink suitcase (probably filled with her beauty products) and grabbed it, flinging it onto the end of the trolley. He released the brake and pushed the luggage towards the exit doors, overtaken by Blight who offered no assistance, or even a thank you.

He caught up with the scientist at the taxi bay, and he could tell that she was as alarmed as he was at the sight that greeted them. He really hadn't expected it to be so dark. A bank of light could be seen on the distant horizon and oil lamps had been set up along the front, but they did little to detract from the eerie reality of the situation.

"Where now?" Blight broke the startled silence, her pale skin glowing in the flickering light.

Plunder shook his head, unsure of how to proceed.

Do we search for Zarm first, or locate the Pesk-a-teers?

Plunder already knew the answer.

"Can't look for one without the other," he said out loud, causing Blight to glance in his direction. "Let's pay the Firebug's mom a visit."

Linka's eyes were closed, but her mind was active and alert. She listened to the small sounds coming from the immediate vicinity, Gi's heavy breathing indicating that she was most probably asleep. Kwame was also audible on the other side of the room, although his constant fidgeting indicated that he was simply waiting quietly for Ma-Ti to regain his senses

Typical Kwame... always ready for business.

From Linka's vantage point, the shadow of Ma-Ti's hand could be glimpsed dangling off the edge of the sofa. The candle-light flickered all the while, casting elongated streaks of light against the walls.

She quietly repositioned herself on the bed, resting her nose and lips against the back of Wheeler's neck. He had fallen asleep in her arms about half an hour ago, and was now nestled comfortably against her. She tightened her arm around his chest and exhaled, instinctively aware that at any moment, Kwame would begin to rouse them into action.

Unsettled at the thought, she chose to block it out and concentrated on the American's breathing, instead. Wheeler was slumbering deeply, Linka's arm mimicking the movement of his ribs as they expanded and contracted at regular intervals. She clutched him closer to her, eager for his warmth. The temperature had dropped considerably since night had befallen the city. She briefly wondered if Wheeler's mother was all right in her little apartment.

Linka nuzzled the nape of his neck affectionately, feeling the short hair brush against the tip of her nose. She smiled, aware of the fact that had he been awake, his reaction to this gesture would probably have been quite different. The knowledge sent a wave of warmth spreading through her body, before settling pleasantly at the base of her stomach.

Time to change the subject, Linka.

He looked (and felt) a little thinner than she recalled, although Linka supposed that it was unrealistic to believe that he would remain the same after four years.

Boshe moy... how old would he be, now?

She did the mental calculations in her head, although the result alarmed her a great deal more than she had expected.

Twenty-six... that is so... strange.

Her eyes fluttered open as she stifled a yawn with her free hand. Linka stretched her arms and legs, trying to rid her body of the lethargy that had gradually overcome her body. The relative silence was suddenly punctuated by a slight tapping noise, as if a tree branch was brushing against the bay window. Whatever it was, it caught Linka's attention. She lifted her head off the pillow and stared in the direction of the noise as it increased in intensity. Her breath caught in her lungs for a moment as an absurd thought popped into her head.

Something is trying to get in.

The scratching continued for about a moment, before ceasing as abruptly as it had begun. Linka sighed again, chastising herself for acting like such a baby. Linka's head hadn't even dropped back onto the pillow before a loud rumble shook the room with ferocious power, sending the room furnishings clattering to the floor. Kwame was already on his feet, stumbling towards the window in a vain effort to discover the source. Linka sat up in fright, her arm still wrapped protectively around Wheeler as she called out to the African Planeteer.

"What is it?"

"I cannot see anything," he said, squinting blindly into the dark street beyond the window frame. "It seems to have stopped, at lea..."

Kwame had spoken to soon. The floor beneath them resumed its frantic shaking, rousing Gi from her sleep with frightening efficiency. The Asian woman cried out in fright as a framed picture was dislodged from the wall, striking her shoulder as it fell.

The shaking stopped yet again, leaving only an unnerving silence in it's wake. A groan issued from underneath Linka's arm, diverting her attention from the window.

"Tell me that was you, Kwame?" Wheeler was now awake and peering at the African man with a bleary expression on his face.

"No, my friend. This is something else..." he replied, echoing the same opinion that Linka held. She withdrew her hand from Wheeler's chest as he sat up and stumbled towards the window, joining Kwame. She crossed her legs and listened, straining to hear anything out of the ordinary. Shuffling opposite indicated that Gi had jumped to her feet. The Asian woman gently shook Ma-Ti awake as Kwame and Wheeler talked in hushed tones beside the window.

Linka's shoulders slumped as she guessed the topic of conversation. Disheartened, she picked at the fine threads of the quilted bedspread, her hair tumbling wildly over her face and shoulders. As a disorientated Ma-Ti finally sat up with Gi's assistance, Linka felt another vibration shake the foundations of the hotel room. Her jaw dropped open as another resounding crack reverberated through the air.

"What the hell," Wheeler said under his breath, grabbing hold of the bed-head for support as the tremors increased in intensity. "Kwame, I think now would be as good a time as..."

"Earth!" Without warning, Kwame started off the chain-reaction which would recall their old friend from the depths below them.

"Fire!" The command was barely out of Wheeler's mouth before something caught his attention outside. He strained closer, trying to identify the massive shadow that was looming over the small arcade opposite the hotel. Wheeler looked on in horror as it moved, as if sensing that it was being watched. The shadow seemed to dominate the darkness, clearly distinguishable from the night sky. Kwame gasped as he, too caught sight of it . As if aware of their presence, the form seemed to pulsate, before turning left and disappearing down the street. "Shit! Did you see th..."

"Wind!"

"Water! What's going on, Whe..."

"Heart!" The collective beams joined into one above their heads, before they bounced back towards the floor and disappeared from view. Ma-Ti was on his feet, apprehension and dread coiling through his stomach as he struggled to remain standing. "Something is wrong, guys..."

"Where the hell did it go? Did you see that?" he exclaimed in a shaky voice. His eyes were glued to the street outside, searching for any sign of... whatever it was. Kwame nodded, his dark eyes also scanning the street.

"Would someone tell me whats going on?" Gi hissed, approaching the boys at the window. She crossed the center of the room but Kwame held out his hand, palm exposed in a gesture of warning.

"Wait... do you feel that?" Kwame hushed them and returned his gaze towards the window. The tremors had now returned, along with a strange pulsating which seemed to emanate from beneath their feet. Wheeler stepped back from the window. The glass was vibrating in time with the tremors, which were increasing in intensity at a rapid pace. A massive crack resonated through the air again, followed by another, then another. Linka groaned, raising her hands to her ears in fright. The noise was almost painful to her ears. Frightened screams were now intermingled with the cacophony outside.

Another crack issued forth, and Wheeler yelled out as a building at the other end of the intersection wobbled and split violently down the middle. He pulled Kwame back wards as a massive roar filled their ears, the sound of the afflicted brickwork collapsing to the ground. Another crack followed, turning a picture theater into a lopsided parody of modern architecture.

Gi was hopping from foot to foot, frightened and impatient for an explanation. "For heaven's sake, what's happening?" Linka swung her legs off the bed and moved towards the boys, trembling as a result of the frigid air and the unnatural pulsating. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably, knowing that they were now powerless to the oncoming onslaught.

Kwame began to reply, but stopped as the glass pane splintered, the fissure extending to both edges of the glass. The African man jumped away as Wheeler acted on nothing but pure instinct. He turned on his heels and bellowed the warning, although it was a fraction of a second too late.

"GET DOWN!"

Wheeler's heart was in his mouth as he reached Linka, standing frozen beside the bed. He collided with her, throwing the pale girl to the floor. She barely had the chance to scream before the glass pane exploded, showering the room with crystals of jagged shards. Another roar filled his ears as he glimpsed sight of Kwame diving to safety. Gi and Ma-Ti frantically sought shelter, huddling underneath a timber desk and table.

Under the bed...

With glass still raining down upon his back and neck, Wheeler hooked his arms around Linka's body and put all of his strength into rolling them underneath the bed frame. Another crack resounded, jolting the foundations of the structure as the floor seemed to drop beneath them. Linka screamed, frantically clinging to Wheeler's neck as the full extent of the situation hit her.

Boshe moy... this is how I died!

The structure fell again, dropping the floor about another half a meter. Wheeler glanced up for a moment, suddenly relieved to see Kwame's foot moving through the bricks and thick dust.

"Shit," he muttered, glancing down at Linka's anxious face. "You okay, baboushka?" She nodded, withdrawing her hands from around his neck and wiping her face. She'd been crying, the tears making wet tracks through her dusty skin. She composed herself and stared up at Wheeler, giving him a watery smile. He smiled back and pinched her nose affectionately. She batted his hand away but laughed all the same.

"Ya' big wimp," he said, earning himself a pinch under the ribs for the comment.

"Is everybody alright?" Kwame's quiet voice was plainly audible from underneath the other bed.

"NO!" replied Gi with a groan. "Can we get out of here, please?"

"I second that opinion," said Wheeler, reluctantly climbing over Linka's body and sliding out from under the mattress. He stood unsteadily, treading carefully on the uneven surface. He lost his balance for a moment, sliding towards the opposite wall but quickly regained his composure.

"It's fine, guys. You can come o..."

Another tremor shook the building without warning. The floor sagged, then broke apart completely down the middle. With nothing to hold onto, Wheeler toppled over and slid towards the cavernous opening, falling through the hole with a yell and into the depths below.

"JACOB!"

Linka scurried out from under the bed and stumbled towards the door, the others in hot pursuit. Her sandals were no match for the debris littering her path, but she dodged the obstacles regardless, ignoring the impact of the bricks and glass against her unprotected feet. The building lurched again as she entered the ground level, searching for any sign of the American.

"WHEELER?" she cried, her heart beating at a thunderous pace. Now at the street level, car alarms and screams assaulted her senses. The noise was deafening, adding to the apprehension she felt.

"Wheeler? Where are you?"

"Here," came the muffled reply. Linka sighed with relief as a dusty figure emerged from the mess and limped towards her.

"Oh, thank God," said Ma-Ti, who had made it out unscathed. The others weren't too far behind him. The building gave a tired groan as Linka embraced him.

They shuffled towards the exit and quickly crossed the road, collapsing at a safe distance onto the pavement. Wheeler winced in pain, gripping his arm.

"Are you hurt?" Linka asked softly as the others inspected the damage to the street. He shook his head, but she was still unconvinced.

"I fell onto the lobby couch..." he explained. He sighed, shaking fine, white powder from his hair and clothes. "What a day."

"Look at the street," Ma-Ti said softly, watching as the side of an apartment block crumbled before their eyes. People were emerging from the shadows, shell-shocked and pale. They talked in low voices, their eyes never straying from the darkened ruins.

"I have a strange feeling that this is only the interlude," Kwame said, reflecting Wheeler's own thoughts. They sat there for a moment, too stunned to discuss what had happened.

Wheeler stared ahead at the damaged hotel, hoping that everyone had gotten out in time. A part of him doubted it, though. Something continued niggled at the back of the American's mind though, causing him to turn towards his colleagues, a troubled look on his face.

"Ah, guys? I know it's been four years but... wasn't something supposed to have happened by now?"

"What do you mean?" asked Gi, who had totally forgotten about their prior team beam.

"You know... the big dude with the mullet?"

Kwame scratched his head, realizing that they had indeed summoned Captain Planet before all hell had broken loose. He looked down at his ring, knowing that the power had left his ring, as intended.

"So... where is Captain Planet?"

I loved writing this chapter... I had a lot of fun with it.

Please read and review guys.