Hey guys, how are you? Thanks so much for sticking with my fic. You have no idea how much I appreciate it! We're on the home stretch, now. Won't be too much longer before Linka's adventure culminates… in one way or another.

I apologize for the long delay. I wrote the majority of this chapter a while ago, then promptly did nothing with it for too long!

A little background information…

I started this particular chapter on my lap top at 7pm a few months ago, with no electricity. My town had a blackout, and I was relying on the lap-top's limited battery (which, at the time, was slowly dwindling). It was extremely windy outside, kind of eerie, actually. It drew a certain parallel with the world that the Planeteers currently inhabit, so I hope I was able to take advantage of this experience in regards to this chapter!

Disclaimer:

I don't own Captain Planet and the Planeteers. But you probably already knew that.

Rated T, for the following reasons:

-one not very nice English swear word,

-a few choice Russian expressions which may offend if translated,

-lastly, and most definitely, a scene at the end of sexual nature. If your delicate eyes and minds are easily offended, you might wanna skip the last scene!

Thanks for the Russian translations, Chesney!
Alternate Destination

Chapter Twenty-One

It wasn't the pervading chill or howling wind outside which woke Linka from her sporadic sleep. Nor was it the slightly overweight man to her right, dozing fitfully and propped against a support pillar (and snoring loud enough to wake the dead). The coughs and crying emanating from around the long disused dance floor made no dent upon her level of consciousness. It certainly wasn't Wheeler either, who had very carefully extracted himself from her panicky embrace, hurried down the hall and out of sight (having been startled by strange noises from outside). He had left over one hundred restless figures behind him- frightened, wary and waiting for the end, it would seem.

In a situation which would normally warrant a certain degree of wakefulness, Linka remained asleep... bundled within a mass of musty coverings, so that only a wisp of brown hair was visible. Her eyes were tightly closed but her eyelids twitched every now and again, the only indicator of the dream she was experiencing.

She moaned, a frown settling across her pale features as she burrowed further under the blankets. Even in her sleep, she was aware of the dark presence approaching. It seemed to loom over, growing in sheer size and power, until it overwhelmed her small frame completely. Linka was frightened now. She whimpered as the last vestige of sleep evaporated. Even as she was catapulted back into the present, the imprint of the shrouded figure remained for several moments, its menacing demeanor playing havoc with her already frayed nerves.

Linka finally woke and cried out, frantically trying to emerge from her self-made cocoon. Her hand impacted with the wall and she was momentarily confused, having expected to find Wheeler in the immediate vicinity (she groggily recalled being propped against his chest only moments ago, it would seem).

She flung the blankets aside and sat bolt upright, momentarily forgetting that she was leaning against the side of a bar. The back of her head collided painfully with the overhanging edge of the counter-top.

"Chyort voz'mi," she cried, tears springing to her eyes as she fell back against the bar and rubbed the afflicted area. Her outburst had drawn little attention, however. The atmosphere of the room remained eerily quiet… devoid of all hope.

Linka groaned, scanning the dance floor for Wheeler's familiar form but finding no sign of the American amongst the mass of darkened figures.

"Wheeler?" she hissed, hoping that he was still nearby. "Wheeler, where are you?"

Her question was met with a vicious rumbling from beneath them, violently shaking the foundations of the nightclub. Bright rays of light filtered through the window blinds for several seconds, illuminating the frightened faces staring blindly at the roof. Linka watched in detached horror as threads of dust and particles floated in front of her, descending and disappearing from her view.

Bozhe moy…the roof is giving way!

The light ceased abrubtly, plunging them into darkness once again.

"Dyer'mo," she moanedthoroughlyfrightened now. "What on earth was that?" She sat cross legged for a moment, contemplating whether or not to move. Nearby, a toddler started to wail loudly, which in turn seemed to unsettle those closest to the screaming child. A detached male voice floated above the din, sounding something like "…shut that fuckin' kid up!"

With the situation rapidly dissolving, Linka stood up, wobbling unsteadily as a result of the injury to her head. She leaned against the bar, using her spare hand to seek out the point of impact. Her fingers found a small lump, but to her relief, no blood appeared to be present.

Thanks God for small favors.

She turned, leaving the angry, bickering voices behind her as she gathered the blankets around her trembling shoulders. With a steely determination, the Russian set off to find her missing companion. As she trudged up the winding stairs, Linka struggled to swallow the all-too-familiar feeling of abandonment which had plagued her for some weeks now.
"I don't know. They were behind us a minute ago…" Gi said, looking perplexed. After all, Plunder and Blight were poor replacements for their missing friends. Plunder was uncharacteristically quiet. His usual smug demeanor was all but gone, now. He sat beside Kwame in a grim parody of mate-ship, knees up and staring blindly towards a spot on the far wall.

Five years ago, Gi would have either laughed or retched at the image presented to her. Now, she simply turned away, too tired to care about the fact that any minute now, she half expected Dr Blight to plunge a knife between her shoulder blades.

If she wasn't so scared, she would have laughed at the irony of the situation. Holed up in the cramped basement of a department store with two of her greatest enemies, Gi felt as if she were waiting for someone to jump out and yell "Smile! You're on Candid Camera!"

Ha! Maybe I'm just dreaming…

The smell emanating from the woman opposite indicated otherwise. Gi sighed, pulling her legs underneath her in an effort to keep warm. Her thoughts wandered, settling upon her husband and daughter. She wiped a tear away, suddenly certain in her belief that she would never see them again.

To her annoyance, Dr Blight's whining voice intruded upon her thoughts. She looked up to see the scientist poking Captain Planet's form with her heel. The blue man was now lying prostrate in front of the small group, eyes closed and breathing in shallow gasps.

He looks downright awful, she thought, sending the thought in Ma-Ti's direction before remembering that it would not be received by the intended recipient.

"What the hell is Captain Crappy's problem, anyway," Blight said, her usually coiffed bob lying in loose clumps against her scarred face as she leaned down for a closer look.

"What's it to you?" Ma-Ti retaliated angrily, glaring at the scientist with abject hatred. "Five years ago, you would have rejoiced at…"

"Yeah, well the tables have turned, brat," Blight said, settling back into a seated position. "We're all in his together…"

"We're NOT together, Blight!" Gi cried, jumping to her feet and standing over Blight's form. "You caused this! This is your fault!"

"Hey, it's not our fault that Zarm went biblical… I sure as hell don't wanna' die like this!"

Gi laughed, a slightly hysterical edge to her voice. "That's so typical, Blight! Nothing's ever your fault, you self-deluded cow!" Gi was all but oblivious to Kwame's hand on her shoulder, attempting to calm the situation.

"This is not worth fighting about, Gi," he said, pulling her away from Blight's defeated figure. "We have more important issues to deal with, here…"

"How? How do we deal with them, Kwame," she yelled, slapping his hand of her shoulder and meeting his gaze defiantly. "Have you got any ideas? We're sitting ducks out here! We're powerless… we should just send Cap back… we'll have a better chance of fending for ourselves…"

Gi turned and stormed off, overturning a rack of clothes in the process. With burning tears clouding her vision, she stumbled blindly towards the upper levels, needing some time to herself.
Captain Planet watched Gi stalk away. She stepped over the blue man; unaware that Cap had been staring in their direction for the duration of the fight, contemplating the implications of what the elders had told him earlier when they were all out on the street. Ear to the ground, they had whispered their instructions to him from the spirit realm, the same instructions that Gaia would have given him (had she survived long enough).

He struggled with the orders, unable to process the consequences of what he was supposed to do. What he HAD to do. He couldn't defy the elders. He had no choice but to comply with their wishes.

He lay motionless on the marble floor, too weak to move and too overwhelmed with the task at hand. Cap closed his eyes again, sensing that the Planeteer's attention was elsewhere. Ma-Ti and Kwame spoke in hushed whispers, leaning against a service counter and directing glances toward a restless Blight. Plunder seemed dazed, in shock and blissfully unaware of the levity of the situation. His resolve strengthened as he pushed himself into a seated position.

It would be easier this way. If he said goodbye before returning to the confines of the earth, they would realize that there was nothing left that he could do to help. Nothing he could do to save them. Not in current circumstances, anyway. It was probably better that they remained unaware of their fate. How on earth would he bring that up into the conversation, anyway?

Hey, guys. Sorry to be a drag, but I gotta' leave you to it. Good luck, and all that…"

He dragged himself away, devastated and ashamed beyond belief that he had failed them again. Twice now, he had let the Planeteers down and this time, the effects would be….

He shuddered to think about it. With a parting glance towards the group, Cap shuffled himself towards the stairway and with some difficulty, pried open the door. Pulling himself to his feet, he used the handrail to drag himself upwards towards the street-level.

The elders final words still lingered within Cap's memory as he ascended slowly, having to stop and reclaim his breath every once in a while.

"Return to the earth. There is nothing more you can do for them. Bring the girl with you, we must restore the balance…"

Cap dared to question that order, finding the request ludicrous.

"What balance? There is no balance! Let her stay, there's no balance left to restore anymore!"

The head elder tightened the telepathic link and swept forward from the other realm, showing herself to the startled man. Cap was no longer sprawled in the middle of a street in uptown New York. He was now standing in a field, opposite the beautiful Persephone. Her ethereal features glowed as she approached him, her long blonde hair coiffed over her right shoulder.

"Their time is over, Planet. Greed and apathy have proved to be their undoing. We mustn't meddle…"

He stared at her beseechingly, her blue eyes showing enormous pity as the Earth's champion allowed the harsh words to sink in. She moved forward again, smiling as she placed her hand on his chest.

"You have fought nobly, Planet. You're place among us is assured."

Cap suddenly broke the telepathy and pushed her hand away, anger bubbling to the surface.

"You think I'm concerned about that? I'm leaving my friends to die!" he had bellowed, not caring if the action would offend the spirit. She didn't even flinch. Her gaze had simply shifted over his shoulder for a moment, as if she were seeing something that was clearly out of Cap's own reach.

She smiled, a serene gesture during an otherwise traumatic confrontation. She spoke aloud, her voice a lilting sound to his ears, but doing very little to comfort the distressed hero.

"The girl's destiny lies elsewhere. You must return her to us, or two realities will be forever damaged… let this knowledge guide your conscience, Planet."

He had reached out, but Persephone was now retreating from his view. Cap realized that the field was now melding into a blurry fog: he was returning to the cold intersection. The streetlights came into focus through the haze and the sensation of rough, gritty tar scratched his cheek, pressed hard against the road once again.

As Ma-Ti and Kwame pulled him to his feet and dragged him towards the department store, Persephone's final words rang through his ears, a whispered warning as she returned to her own realm.

"She doesn't belong here. We must return Linka to her own reality. Bide my words, Planet. You will not fail us…"

Shuddering at the memory, Captain Planet flung open the door and stumbled out of the stairwell. He paused, looking for the exit. Upon finding the smashed double-glass doors to his right, he dragged himself towards them, his shoulders hunched with the burden he was now carrying. He found the street utterly deserted, save for a lone newspaper lying strewn across the sidewalk. He stood motionless for a while, gathering his wits, a shadow of his former self.

A bright yellow flash lit up the sky, illuminating the horizon for miles. The deserted streetscape was bathed in a lemon glow, as if someone had taken a picture using a flash bulb. The light remained for several moments, blinding Cap in the process. The ground rumbled menacingly beneath him and Cap leaned against a bus stop sign, steadying himself. He turned and sniffed the air, a frown settling across his face as the air became stagnant and heavy.

"What the…."

The light gradually faded, but an odd, sulfurous smell remained. Cap squinted in the direction of the glow, seemingly north-west of his current location. The surrounding buildings restricted Cap's view of the origin of the phenomena, but his senses were tingling with dread, nonetheless.

All signs were indicating that whatever this was, it was the beginning of the end.

"What are you doing in here, Wheeler?"

The American jumped and swiveled around, his attention diverted from the view presented to him from the window of what appeared to be a small administration office. He had been watching the events from the top floor of the nightclub for some time now, deeply troubled by the flashes of light appearing at semi-regular intervals outside. The last flash had been directly within his line of sight, a massive mushroom cloud rising from above the southern skyline.

He exhaled, settling against the wall and giving Linka a half-hearted wave. She hovered around the doorway, however, peering around the room in apparent confusion.

"What are you doing in here?" she said again, "You were not down there. I could not find you…"

He shrugged, pulling his knees up to his chest and smiling at her. "Just hangin' out, babe."

"What were you looking at?" she asked softly, aware that he seemed apprehensive about something.

Wheeler shook his head with tired wonder. The girl really didn't miss a beat. He beckoned her inside and she complied, closing the door behind her but remaining where she was, bundled within her mass of blankets.

"You know babe, you kinda' look like Stay-Puft, the Marshmal…"

"Do not change the subject, durak," she snapped, eyeing him with a certain amount of suspicion. "What is out there?"

"I think Zarm's tryin' to bomb the living shit out of us," he responded, choosing not to mince his words.

"WHAT!" she blurted, her anxiety all but forgotten as she rapidly crossed the room towards the window. "How do you….where?"

She stood on her toes and peered outwards, her eyes searching the yellow haze for an indication of what Wheeler was talking about. He remained seated beside her, staring ahead at the door in which Linka had just entered. The hem of her blanket grazed the side of his face and he sneezed, probably an allergic reaction to the many dust particles embedded within the fabric.

"I cannot see anything," she said, her voice merely a whisper. "How do you know that it is a…"

A flash interrupted her, followed by a deafening thud which caused Wheeler to jump to his feet. "Shit!" he said under his breath, jostling Linka out of the way for a clear view. "That was damn close."

"How do you know that they are bombs?" she said in a trembling voice, her mouth open in horror as the yellow glow lit up the room once again, bathing them in an unnatural fluorescent light.

"Geez, Linka! Call it an educated guess…" Wheeler shook his head and resumed his seated position on the floor. He glanced up at her expectantly, his arms resting casually on his knees. Linka didn't stray from the window, however… she simply pressed her forehead against the cold glass and tapped her fingernails nervously on the windowsill.

"You gonna' sit down?"

"Nyet," she said, her eyes not straying from the occurrences outside.

"Fair enough," he sighed.

"Why can't Captain Planet return to the earth, and give us our powers back?"

Wheeler raised his eyebrows, surprised at the abrupt line of her question. She turned and fixed him with a frightened stare, and Wheeler soon realized why she had refused to sit down earlier.

She was crying.

"Babe," he said softly, "would ya' sit down before you fall down?"

She finally complied, arranging her blankets around herself before dropping to the floor beside him. She gave him a watery smile of thanks, before crossing her arms protectively across her chest and exhaling.

"I wonder what the others are doing, now?" she said, drawing her knees up and affectionately nudging the American's knee with her own.

Wheeler chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Who knows," he admitted. "Although I'd put my money on Plunder trying on women's clothing by now…"

"Oh, nyet!" she said, stifling a small giggle. "Now I have to live with that mental picture, Yankee…"

She trailed off, aware of the fact that the image of Plunder in a pink dress evidently would not be assaulting her memory for too much longer.

He squeezed her shoulders gently, before removing it completely. "Damn, it's cold…" he grumbled, buttoning his jacket tighter around his neck.

"Boshe moy!" she exclaimed, only now realizing that she was wrapped within countless layers while he sat shivering without any. "Why did you not say anything, Wheeler? I feel like such a…"

"I was attempting to be a gentleman…" he said, leaning back in confusion as he felt her rise beside him, dumping her mass of blankets into his lap. "Hey, I don't want all of them, Linka!"

She rolled her eyes in the darkness, too cold to be concerned about appropriateness as she stepped carefully between his raised knees and dropped to the floor in front of the slightly surprised American. "I was not giving them all to you," she explained, her teeth chattering uncontrollably as she felt him wrap the blankets around both their shoulders.

The rough material pooled around her bare feet. Her wet sandals remained where she had left them: discarded and in a sodden heap downstairs. She sighed, the hem of her jeans still soaked and uncomfortable after the sudden onslaught of snow from a few hours earlier.

Linka leaned forward and started rolling up the hem, until they sat just below the knee. She tucked the blankets around her numb toes and lent back against Wheeler's chest, her heart thumping wildly as his arms encircled her small waist and rested casually across her stomach and side. They sat in a semi-companionable silence for a while.

Wheeler remained alert and watchful, his attention settled upon the noises issuing from outside the window. The harsh light filtered in every now and again however Linka barely noticed, thoroughly distracted by the heat of Wheeler's hand through the cotton material of her shirt. She reshuffled slightly in his arms as another flash of light lit up the room. She turned and laid her left cheek against his shoulder in an effort to conceal the furious blush creeping upwards towards her face and neck, praying that the American wouldn't notice.

The room soon faded into shadows once again. By now accustomed to the lack of light, one of Linka's remaining senses seemed to be operating in overdrive. She closed her eyes, attempting to make sense of her reaction to the American's close proximity… but seemed unable to gain control of the sensations assaulting her body. Linka hung her head in confusion, experiencing a combination of curiosity and longing that threatened to spill over her carefully-maintained composure. An internal struggle had begun as Linka shifted restlessly in front of him. She was wide awake now and shocked to discover that she was fighting the strong temptation to move Wheeler's hand to her breast.

Coward…

Linka repositioned herself yet again, gasping as a rush of cold air surged through a gap in their protective cocoon. She shifted herself impatiently and in the process, felt Wheeler removing his arms from her waist, assuming that she was uncomfortable with the contact. The sense of sorrow and loss she felt was palpable. The Russian yelped, jumping to her feet and stumbling to the other side of the room. Her foot caught the edge of a piece of furniture (a two-seater couch) as she slammed into the far wall.

"Chyort voz'mi!" She cried for the second time in as many hours. She kicked out furiously, a black rage settling over her as she struggled to deal with her inability to tell Wheeler how she really felt.

Stubborn mule… Linka continued to chastise herself, pacing along the wall as she vented her conflicting emotions. The room shook and lit up again and she snuck a quick glance at the American, who remained where she had left him. Brows raised in a silent question, his blue eyes were settled upon her thoughtfully. This only served to infuriate her further, knowing that she must look like a complete fool.

"What are you looking at?" she snapped, bending down to rub the aching heel of her foot.

"Just wondering if you've finished throwing your little tantrum," he said in a low voice, completely unaware of the reason behind her outburst.

Linka was too overcome to reply. She stayed where she was, crossing her arms across her chest and staring through the window. Even in her current state, the irony of the situation was not lost on her. After years of being pursued by the American, she now wanted something more from him but was too mortified to tell him what she needed.

"What goes around, comes around," she said bitterly to herself, unaware that the words had even left her lips, or of the fact that Wheeler would possibly misunderstand the intended meaning.

"I'm not even gonna' ask what the hell that's supposed to mean," Wheeler replied hotly, shaking his head. He had no idea what he had done to upset her, although that had always been the nature of things with the temperamental Russian. He stood abruptly, tossing the majority of the blankets in her general direction. "Whatever. I'm outta' here, Linka. I'm not putting up with your bull-shit anymore."

Linka gasped, sensing from his retreating footsteps that he was heading for the door. She was spurred into action, crossing the floor in a heartbeat but grossly misjudging Wheeler's actual location. As he placed his hand on the doorknob, she barreled into him from behind. They collided heavily against the door, a surprised grunt issuing from Wheeler. He turned, grabbing her by the shoulders and bearing down upon her.

"Are you insane?" he shouted, his blood pulsing through his temples as he struggled to refrain from shaking the life out of her. "Damn it, Linka! What the hell is your prob…"

Sensing that she had nothing to lose, Linka wrapped her arms around his neck and guided his lips towards hers. There was a brief moment of confused resistance, before the vice-like grip on her arms relented. His hands slid up to cup her face, his thumbs caressing the cold skin with tantalizing slowness. She tightened her grip as he removed one hand from her cheek, replacing it at the small of her back and pressing her body closer.

The frigid air seemed to retreat as the warmth from Wheeler's body spread through her like wildfire. He seemed to tower over Linka's smaller frame, causing her head and spine to bow further back (although the fear of falling never entered her mind, his hand remaining securely in position.)

He closed the gap between Linka and the wall, gently nudging her against the door (the same door he had been so intent on exiting moments earlier). All thoughts of leaving having now evaporated, he paused to catch his breath, wishing that he could see her beautiful face. As if in answer to his thoughts, a sharp crack reverberated through the city, followed by a bright light which bathed them both in a flattering glow. He gazed down at her, shocked to see a new expression he'd never been allowed a glimpse of until now…

Her arms never strayed from his neck. She simply looked up at him beseechingly, silently willing him to continue, desperate for the sensation of his hands on her body.

"Ah, to hell with it," he said softly, feeling her lips curve into a smile against his cheek as he grasped her legs and lifted her. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist and closed her eyes, pressing her face against his Wheeler hovered over her for a moment, rearranging the blankets above them. He felt her fingers rest lightly upon hips, before moving upwards towards the buttons on his jacket. He sat perfectly still as she rose to meet him and unbuttoned them slowly in the darkness, impatiently pushing the clothing off his shoulders. Linka tossed his jacket to the floor. Her breath came in ragged bursts as she waited for him to join her, her nerve endings tingling with anticipation. Wheeler remained where he was however; kneeling above her.

"You sure about this, babe?" he asked. His right hand found her hip and he trailed his fingertips along the waistband of her jeans, before finding the bare skin of her belly. She shivered, goose bumps quickly forming on her skin as he lifted the peasant top and placed several light kisses over her stomach, suddenly finding it extremely difficult to resist the temptation lying before him.

As if in answer to his question, she gently removed his hand from her side and guided it upwards. She heard Wheeler's sharp intake of breath as the palm of his hand found the gauzy material of her bra.

Any rational thoughts he had been experiencing flew out the window, replaced by a desperate, carnal need to

"Damn, Linka," he groaned, and in a flash he was on top of her, crushing her with his body. His lips blindly sought hers and she returned his kisses with an intensity she'd never experienced before. Linka grabbed his shirt impatiently, lifting it over his head and tossing it away. Her arms encircled him, pulling him closer, feeling the muscles tense between his shoulder blades as her hands explored his torso. Frustrated at the lack of contact, she attempted to pull her own shirt off but ended up catching her elbow in the sleeve of the top.

"Boshe moy," she muttered impatiently, her elbow now entangled and sticking out at a weird angle.

"What?"

"My arm is stuck." She heard Wheeler chuckle, her predicament obviously amusing him to no end. "Da, very funny Yankee," she complained as he freed her trapped limb.

"…arms up, babe." She silently complied, feeling the inevitable rush of cold air assault her bare skin as he raised the shirt above her head. The tips of her fingers traced the jagged scar along the front of his shoulder while he wrapped the blankets around them both, settling down on top of her. She relished the contact, moaning slightly as his mouth found a particularly delicate spot behind her ear. She turned her face to kiss him but he purposely dodged her effort.

Her body heated up as his lips trailed over her face, leaving tender kisses on her forehead, nose, eyes and finally, the tender skin at the base of her throat. She sighed, running her fingers through his hair as his kisses sought lower ground, covering the tantalizing area between her breasts.

Her bra suddenly felt incredibly restrictive, and she longed to be free of the chafing material. Linka arched her back and slid her hands underneath her body, finally unclasping the hooks after a few unsuccessful attempts. Throwing the garment aside, she frantically reached for him. He crushed her body with his own once again, grabbing her wrists and pinning them against the arm of the sofa.

Linka closed her eyes and surrendered to his passionate kisses. She whimpered as Wheeler's free hand found the soft mounds lying squashed against his chest. As his hand was replaced by a questing mouth, Linka had to muffle her cries against the sofa cushions. Her eyes tightly closed, she floated away to a place where even Zarm couldn't harm her.

Let me know if you want the extended version. It'll be ready soon.

Oh yeah, one of my reviewers mentioned that I'd spelt 'curb' wrong. In Aussie-Land, we write it as 'kerb'! I try to keep to American spelling, but once in a while, a word slips through the cracks!!!

Thanks to all those wonderful reviewers. I really appreciate it.

Next chapter will be up soon… sooner than this one, anyway. Hope it was worth the wait. Review guys, even if it's to tell me how naughty I've been.