Published July 3, 2023

"Nesting"

Ever since the Russian nesting doll vanished from her shelf, Carlotta knew she had been found. But she had no way of knowing whether the person seeking her was her daughter, or someone sent by V.I.L.E.

A V.I.L.E. operative probably would not have stolen something so flagrantly, or let her live very long after discovering her location. That left the possibility of her daughter, or someone else with some connection to their family.

For several weeks, Carlotta lived from day to day with a mixture of hope and fear. Every time someone knocked on the door of the orphanage, she wondered if was her daughter—by now a grown woman—or an assassin looking to erase the final evidence of Dexter Wolfe's existence. But for appearances' sake, she had to act as though things were normal, and open the door as readily and cheerfully as she would for anyone else.

So there was no hesitation when she opened the door on this day, and no surprise when she saw a young, auburn-haired woman holding the largest nesting doll in her arms.

For the first few moments, Carlotta and the woman at her door simply stared at each other. They had good reason: they looked almost like a mirror's reflection, except that this girl had gray-blue eyes—Dexter's eyes—while Carlotta's face had more lines and her hair had more gray streaks.

The young lady smiled at her with a soft expression, looking a bit bashful, but also happy. "Hola," she said politely. Her accent was excellent—almost too good for a native speaker. She began talking as though she had rehearsed a speech, but her voice faltered as Carlotta's eyes darted between her face and the Russian nesting doll in her arms.

Before the girl could introduce herself, Carlotta asked pointedly, though she was sure of the answer: "Are you my daughter?"

The girl's eyes softened even more. "Yes. My friends call me Carmen, but I am Martina Adolfa." She held out something in her palm: an open locket, with a picture of Dexter and their baby—the picture she had taken.

"Mija …" Carlotta closed her hands around her hand and the locket. Then she reached out tentatively and touched the girl called Carmen's face. "You have his eyes. And my hair, as it used to be."

Carmen's eyes were becoming glossy with tears. She bowed her head as she held out the painted wooden doll. "I think these were yours, or at least one of them. I had the rest."

Carlotta took the doll delicately, and could feel its heaviness: it held the entire set. She clutched it to her chest with one arm and held out the other to Carmen, ushering her inside. "Come in." As soon as the door was closed, she turned around and asked, "Are you safe?"

Carmen nodded. "Yes—I wouldn't have come otherwise."

"No one is looking for you?"

"Not anymore."

"And how did you find me?"

"It's a long story." Carmen grimaced slightly. "There's a lot to explain."

"I'm sure. Come. We'll talk in the kitchen."

Carmen gave the broadest possible strokes of her story while they were at the orphanage. She was not comfortable sharing much top-secret content when they lacked privacy, and they had to stop talking whenever someone came into the kitchen. Children interrupted by running through as they played or seeking out Carlotta for help, and other staff and volunteers came in to make food or ask questions.

After just a little while, they agreed to put off the longer story until they could be alone. Instead, Carlotta showed Carmen around and introduced her to everyone. She was proud to call Carmen "my daughter," and the children grew excited when they heard Señora Valdez had a child of her own. Before they knew what was happening, a few boys demanded to play with the nesting dolls, and some of the girls pulled Carmen over to play dress-up. When she glanced back at Carlotta, her mother was smiling to see them playing.

Carmen was glad to learn about her mother's life before sharing much about her own. Who knew whether Carlotta would even trust her around children after learning about the things she had done?

Finally, after dinner, Carlotta and Carmen were able to leave while the overnight staff stayed with the children.

The first thing Carlotta wanted to do, even before talking, was visit the nearest church. If there was ever an occasion to give thanks and praise God, she reasoned, this was one.

Carmen did not pray often. She had always liked learning about different cultures' folklore and religion, and was a little partial to Catholicism since it was so much a part of Latin culture, but while fighting V.I.L.E. over the last few years, she had not had time to think much about the miraculous or metaphysical. But she sometimes offered up a prayer when visiting houses of worship, such as when she accompanied Zack and Ivy to a church, or when Shadowsan showed them a Shinto or Buddhist temple.

She had, once or twice, looked online to find out what the Bible said about stealing. One of the Ten Commandments prohibited theft. But there was also a lot about charity and justice, helping the poor and stopping those who hurt them. Carmen had always followed her conscience, and she figured that if God existed, and was truly good, then her actions were justified, however illegal they might be.

At this point, after being under V.I.L.E.'s control, Carmen had not thought about God, let alone set foot in a house of worship, for many months. In fact, the prospect of going to a holy place made her feel even more uncomfortable now that she carried so much guilt. But, since it was the first thing a parent had ever asked of her, she followed her mother into the small but beautiful church a few blocks away from the orphanage.

It was similar to other Catholic churches and cathedrals she had seen: a cross-shaped layout with pews, a main altar, and two side altars, plus a handful of statues and other decorations. Carlotta led her to a section of pews facing a statue of Our Lady of Guadalupe.

"She has helped me be a mother to so many who have none," Carlotta explained to Carmen in a low voice. "When you disappeared, I asked Our Lady to be a mother to you, since I could not. I knew that wherever you were, she and her Son would watch over you."

That was a strange thought for Carmen. There had been so many times when it felt like she was on her own. If anyone came through to help or rescue her, it was usually Player, Ivy, Zack, or Shadowsan; occasionally it might be a kind stranger. Could there have been some kind of unseen divine intervention at work too?

Carlotta knelt down in front of the statue first, and when Carmen knelt next to her, she put her arm around Carmen and prayed out loud. She thanked God for preserving and restoring her daughter, and thanked the Blessed Mother for watching over her with such maternal love. Carmen hardly knew what to think of that: growing up, her only example of maternal love had come from Coach Brunt, who could not have been more different from the gentle-looking Lady of Guadalupe. But she added a few words of thanks for being rescued from V.I.L.E. and finally finding her blood family.

After a few minutes they retreated to one of the pews so that others could approach the statue. Carlotta continued to pray silently, while Carmen sat back and looked at the booklets on the little shelf. One of the prayers on the back of the hymnal was called the Act of Contrition, a prayer of repentance and resolution to change.

Shadowsan had helped Carmen talk through everything she did over the last six months. He did not ascribe any blame to her, and insisted that she should not either. But that did not change the fact that she had been an instrument of evil—and worse, she had hurt her own friends and allies.

She had tried to focus on moving on, in order to avoid breaking down. But now, in the silence and candlelight of the church, she finally let herself think about everyone: Zack and Ivy, Chase Devineaux and Julia Argent … and Crackle, or Gray. She had nearly killed him, and while she now knew that he had survived, it haunted her to know that that was the last thing he had seen her do. But even when she was hurting them, they had done everything they could to bring her back to the light.

Carmen almost never cried, and even her traumatic experiences with V.I.L.E. had never reduced her to tears. But now she bent over and buried her face in her hands, weeping silently.

She did not know when Carlotta noticed, but suddenly her mother was at her side, rubbing her back and squeezing her shoulder. "Tears can be prayers, too, mija," she whispered.

Carmen lifted her face from her hands, looking at her incredulously. Carlotta wiped her tears and smeared mascara away, then pulled her into an embrace. This time, Carmen hugged her back and let herself be comforted. She realized that she could hardly remember the last time someone had done that for her.

A few minutes later, a Mass began, and by silent agreement, they stayed to participate. Although she had been reluctant to come, Carmen found the liturgy strangely comforting, because it was familiar: she had been to enough Masses with Zack and Ivy to know the general structure. Carlotta held her hand throughout most of it.

One of the early prayers, the Confiteor, was also a kind of confession of sins. Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. Through my fault, through my most grievous fault. It ended with asking the Virgin Mary, the other saints, and the angels to pray for the penitent.

More collected now, Carmen offered up her own petition: God, if you're there, please excuse the wrong I did, and bless everyone I hurt. Please, help me make amends for it.

Every now and then, Carlotta looked over at her, and they exchanged smiles. Carmen wondered if they would have gone to church together every week if her parents had raised her. If it was part of her mother's life, maybe it would become part of hers too.

When the Mass was over, Carlotta took Carmen to her own small apartment. There, over cups of mate con leche, Carmen explained the full story of her life.

For the most part, Carlotta simply listened, only asking an occasional question. Carmen was not a dramatic storyteller, and it was clear that she was still processing many emotions about different people and recent events.

Carlotta had, in fact, heard about some of Carmen Sandiego's early exploits on the news. It seemed that before A.C.M.E. had taken over the investigation, reports of her earliest capers had been available to the public, and details of later ones were sometimes leaked to the press. Carlotta was impressed—though not at all surprised—to learn about her daughter's skills as a thief, but she was even more pleased to hear about the causes that Carmen had supported with the funds she stole from V.I.L.E.

"You have both of our hearts," Carlotta said, prouder than she had ever been.

Carmen blushed, unused to such open and affectionate praise. Ivy, Zack, and Player were more like her cheerleaders, ramping up her reputation, while Shadowsan was graver, assessing her in terms of honor and virtue.

The most difficult parts to tell were the beginning and ending. Carmen told her about Shadowsan and Chief, trying to be fair about both the role they had in her father's death and the part they had played in her later life. She was glad to see that Carlotta seemed past the point of anger.

She emphasized how much she owed to Shadowsan, Player, Zack, and Ivy. She had been their leader, but they had held her up and enabled her to do so much more than she could have on her own. More than that, they had been a family to her. Carlotta could understand that: her coworkers and the children they cared for were the closest thing she had had to a family for the past two decades.

Carmen glossed over the details of the last several months, only sharing that Shadowsan, Gray, and the A.C.M.E. agents had saved her together. Carlotta did not press her for details: she knew enough about V.I.L.E. to imagine what it must have been like.

Finally, when it was almost midnight, Carlotta asked about Carmen's next steps. "Have you come here to stay?"

"I don't know." Carmen looked out the window at the lights of Buenos Aires. "You have a beautiful life here. I've thought about putting down roots, but I still want to keep doing my work." She looked back at her mother with a serious expression. "And that work carries risks. If having me around would complicate things for you, I'll understand if—"

"Mija." Carlotta took her hand. "I knew the risks when I married your father. Of course I want you in my life. You can stay with me as long as you want. And if you ever want a different job, I can always use help with the children."

Carmen smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Mamá."

Author's Notes

I chose Carmen's given name because Martina means "warring, warlike woman," and Adolfa means "noble wolf," in honor of Dexter Wolfe.

I had originally planned two separate chapters about the reunion and the church visit. The latter turned out much longer than I intended, as it turned into more of a bonding moment as well as a reckoning for Carmen as she processes everything that happened.

The idea of tears being like prayers is an old one; I first heard it said about St. Monica, the mother of St. Augustine, in his Confessions. He attributed his eventual conversion to her tearful intercession.

Mate con leche is an infusion prepared with the leaves of the yerba mate plant and milk. I learned about it while researching Argentinian drinks.

While I know a lot about Catholicism, I don't know much about Argentinian culture, or Hispanic/Latin American culture in general. If I've made any errors here relating to them, please feel free to let me know.