In the soft glow of moonlight, a man wandered the vacant halls of his manor. He shuffled through the ornately decked corridors, sometimes pausing to admire a finely crafted statue or an exquisite painting. After inspecting one such painting, he turned and froze in his tracks. His aimless wanderings had taken him to a pair of heavy, gilded doors. The man gently laid his hand on the wooden panel, as something tugged urgently at his memory. There was something in there that he must see but he was a strangely afraid to enter the room. Gathering his courage, the man creaked open one door and stepped into the dark room.

Almost reflexively, his eyes fell on a large painting depicting a brown hair woman and small child. A mother with an arm protectively wrapped around her daughter. He shook his head in confusion; there was nothing in the picture that suggested that those two were related to each other. The man raised a shaky hand to touch the girl's face, her brilliant blue eyes washing his soul in a wave of indefinable emotions. There was something about her that he was suppose to remember... he looked into her eyes and felt shock freeze his blood. Like a flame bursting to life in the darkness of his mind, a memory flooded the present and brought him into the past.

The man opened his eyes, unaware that he had closed them, and gave a start to find that his vision swam in a watery blaze. Tear drops splashed onto the carpeted floor as he lifted his head and rested his cheek on the girl's one. But he could not draw any comfort from the cold canvas. Unconsciously, his hands tightened into fists as he pushed himself away from the portrait, avoiding the girl's eyes.

"Will I always be alone?" he asked the room quietly.

"No father, you have me. You'll always have me," a voice said in a confident, soft tone.

"Ca-," the man said, a smile appearing on his features but the smile and his voice died when he saw who had spoken.

A tall man, with hair a similar shade to the woman in the portrait, stood in the doorway, regarded Avalon with a bitter smile. The smile did not slip as the man entered the room, his flowing grace seemed to project the aura of a predator, and approached the portrait. His smile tightened slightly as a sadness entered his eyes; his attention focused on the girl. His hand reached up as if to caress a cheek but he stopped and his eyes filled with a hard light. Reluctantly, he turned from the portrait and took a step so that he stood between his father and the painting. The two men looked at each other expressionlessly, and then the man spoke quietly in a harsh voice, his accent identical to Avalon's.

"How can I compete against the greatest thief in the world?"

Avalon shook his head roughly as he placed his hands on the younger man's shoulders. He spoke in Argentian Spanish. "You will always be my son."

The man roughly pushed away Avalon's hands as he turned away, his head lowered in an attempt to hide the fury blazing in his eyes. But Avalon had noticed and he lifted his son's chin so that he could look into his son's eyes... his son jerked away from his grasp and backed away. He turned to look again at the portrait. Avalon felt fear brush his neck lightly at the emotions swirling in the jade depths of his son's eyes.

"She is not your sister."

His son's head snapped around to stare vehemently at his father, his voice was cold, yet pain twisted it.

"Then, why was her name on your lips and not mine?"

"Derek-"

But his son cut him off with a jerky gesture; the anger in his eyes faded replaced by tattered sorrow. When he met his father's eyes, unfathomable pain made his eyes dark and his voice still reflected the torment in his soul.

"Where did I go wrong? I was the perfect son, I grew up the way you wanted but you love her. Why? Damn you, you owe me this much. Why?"

They stared at each other, the silence fraying Derek's self control. It was Avalon who lowered his gaze first. Derek's harsh whisper pierced Avalon's stoic nature.

"The fire took my sister and mother away from me. Now Carmen has stolen the only person I cared about."

"I cannot chose between you both, Derek. Carmen reminds me so much of your mother that is why I think of her constantly. How can you ask me to choose?" the millionaire pleaded desperately.

His son touched the portrait lightly as he answered; "You already know the answer to that."

"Derek, you are my one and only child. I love you."

Derek laughed bitterly at that. His eyes were so cold when he next spoke.

"You believe that Carmen is your daughter, don't you?"

"Derek-"

"Don’t you?"

Avalon looked at the portrait, the girl with sable hair and sparkling blue eyes that tore a hole in his soul but hope had filled that hole. Carmen had filled that hole. And God, if his daughter had survived that fire, he wanted her to be just like Carmen. His answer ripped into his son like a serrated dagger.

"Yes."

Derek shrugged uneasily as if trying to dislodge a heavy burden from his shoulders; the pain in his eyes had faded so only his smile was evidence that it was there. The young man gave the portrait a final glance before striding away to the doorway. He paused, looking back at his father.

"We never did have a past together, Dad. But maybe, we can build a future. All three of us... together like a family should. With Carmen, it all ends tonight, one way or the other."

Avalon came to him and gingerly laid a hand on his shoulder. His green eyes were thoughtful and sad but his smile was happy. He whispered softly, "Bring your wayward sister home, my son."

His son stared at him with a surprised look on his face, which slowly brightened into a smile but shadows still darkened underneath his eyes. Suddenly, he crushed his father to him in a fierce hug then left. Avalon turned to look at the portrait. Could she really be his daughter? Hope burned brightly in the vacant halls of his soul. Staring into those blue eyes, he did not notice a shadow moving away from the window.

*

Lee eased himself away from the window and slunk into the shadows. He made himself move slowly even though a sense of urgency scourged him to move faster. His mind swam with frantic questions like insects around a bright light. Derek was… but how could that be? He shook his head slightly, dispelling the question. The Chief would know what to do. As soon as he was a fair distance from the mansion, he knelt and activated his wrist communicator by pressing a button.

"Chief," he hissed in a soft whisper.

Only the humming chirps of the crickets answered him.

"Chief," he hissed slightly louder.

"Oh, Danny boy. The pipes, the pipes are calling…." A Scottish accented voice sang in an off key screech, the sound mercifully obscured by static.

"Chief!"

"Detective Lee! I thought you were in Beijing, what can I do for you?" the Chief’s voice asked enthusiastically, his words shrill in the night’s air and his accent returned to normal. Then whilst waiting for the Chinese’s reply, he hummed a few bars into "Danny Boy".

The young Acme detective took a deep breath, listening for the sound of footsteps and then said, "It’s about that San Francisco detective, Derek. He’s really…"

"I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you ring the doorbell," interrupted a soft voice from behind him.

Lee turned slowly and saw Derek, his face shrouded by the shadows, one hand raised and holding something that coldly gleamed in the harsh moonlight. The older man’s thumb moved along the object’s surface and a sharp clicked sounded. The San Francisco detective stepped out of the shadows; his gun pointed straight at Lee’s head. The young detective could not take his eyes off from the gun.

"You’re…you’re Carmen’s brother," he managed to gasp.

The older man smiled tightly and whispered, "Not for long."

Then he began to speak in the same insidious tone and as he spoke, Lee learnt the true meaning of fear.

*

Lilting music accompanied the quick, lively steps of the Scottish girls, dancing on a sturdy stage in traditional attire. The dancers had drawn a large crowd, a good portion of which was tourists who clapped rhythmically, encouraging the girls on. Some of the men gathered wore kilts along with unbuttoned cotton shirts, whilst the women’s dress varied beyond counting. Listening to the entertainment, MacDougalas kept a watchful eye on his fruit store, mindful of a woman in a slitted light blue dress that was casually making her way to a basket of apples. The old Scotsman decided to give her his full attention as he pretended to busy himself stacking up some oranges. The woman’s stark raven hair glinted blue in the harsh sunlight, as she stepped quickly but gracefully around the crowd. She stopped for a moment to adjust her calf-high sandal straps in front of the apple basket then straightened and walked past. At that last instant, did her hand whip out and snatched an apple? MacDougalas frowned in consternation at that thought.

MacDougalas glanced at the basket, trying to mentally count the apples but it was impossible to tell their exact number without taking them out to count. Yet he had this feeling… The old man shook his head ruefully; she didn’t look like the type that would do that.

After a moment, a movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He looked up and saw the woman appear out of the crowed and approach him. In her hand glistened an apple. She wore a very troubled expression.

"I didn’t believe you were the type lass, " he said with a slight smile as she paid him for the apple.

Instead of looking happy or relieved, the woman’s face grew sad as she gazed at the apple in her hands. Finally she looked up and said in a disbelieving tone, "I didn’t…don’t believe it either."

*

Carmen walked away from the fruit store, still confused by her act of decency. Her mind rationalized that she did it because the prospect of that kind, old man losing the income of a fruit was cruel. No, that wasn’t why she paid for the apple. She shivered despite the gradual rising heat of day. It was a petty thing to do? Yes, but that wasn’t the total answer.

The thief sat down in the shade provided by a massive tree’s branches that stretched yearningly towards the sky. She absently began to munch the apple as she carefully considered her actions. Her eyes fell on two children, a girl and a boy; the boy who was the elder, was tenderly holding an ice cream cone for the younger girl to lick. Family. That summed up clearly the reasons for her leaving Acme. That summed up nicely why she had turned to a life of crime. That summed up her empty, fruitless life. But was it still empty? The entrance of Derek might have changed all that. The only person who knew the true reason why she left Acme was the Chief. She had not even dared to tell Suhara, who had been there for her when all that was her life was lost. Did the Chief suspect the reason she had become such an outstanding criminal mastermind, gone against all the principles that Acme had given her, was so that he would remember her, the lost orphan child he had once called daughter?

Her teeth brushed against the hard core of the apple instead of the crunchy flesh. The thief lowered the apple’s remains from her mouth slowly; her eyes focused on the polished red seeds, embedded in the pit. Those seeds would germinate, spawn another fruit and in its death, life was reborn. Over and over again in an endless circle. But always the same fruit. She had given up Acme, turned to a life of crime, but was she still the same person she was when she was a detective? Was Carmen the detective or Carmen the thief, the person she was born to be? Convulsively, she threw the apple core away only to stare at her empty hands. Unbidden a phantom voice tickled her memory and she repeated the words out loud.

"What does the sound of one hand clapping make?"

Suhara had asked her that once long time ago and she had no answer. She still had no answer and doubt that she could ever find it. The woman flexed her hands, considered the philosophical question then put it out of her mind with an angry shake of the head.

With the back of her hand, Carmen wiped a trail of sweet juice that trickled down her chin. She frowned, still deep in thought. Did Suhara left Acme because her life of crime pained him too much and the chance of confrontation was too probable? If he came face to face with her when he still was a detective, would he have had the strength to turn her in? The answer was obvious. So he left, left everything he believed in because of her… her emptiness. How many times has her emptiness caused others pain, torment? Would Lee Jordan be the person he was today if she hadn’t become a criminal? And Ivy? Yes…what about Ivy?

She could remember clearly the first time she had met Ivy and nearly had killed her. Somehow, that day had put a dark seed into Ivy’s soul and with it, hatred for Carmen had grown with each passing failure. But would Ivy ever know that no matter how much she hated Carmen, Carmen hated herself even more? Hated how she played games with the Acme agents because she could. Hated how those games might have gotten them killed…could get them killed. What would happen when she died and a new wave of crime bosses who didn’t possess a conscience emerged? Those Acme detectives, including Ivy and Zack would be easy meat for them. Bile threatened to rise up in her throat. What in God’s name had she done?

Carmen could feel the tears building up in her chest, could feel her throat become raw but her eyes remained dry and cold. Her hands trembled and clutched her skirt so hard that the white showed beneath the tan skin of her knuckles. She could feel herself reeling; she had only felt this way twice in her life. Once when she found Avalon lying on the cobblestones and the other when Maelstrom had killed her past and set her on the path of leaving Acme. Something cold, hard brushed against her hands. Carmen jerked in surprise as she held in wonder the gold locket that held her portrait and that of her mother. It had fell free from the confines of the neck of her dress and dangled on a gold chain. Slowly, she could feel the shattered pieces of her mind glue itself jaggedly together as she clasped the locket tighter. After taking a deep breath, she went over her plans again carefully, searching for the slightest flaw and could find none. A slight, bitter laugh touched her lips as she got up. Tonight, her emptiness would end one way or another.

*

Derek wiped the sweat from his brow irritably as he lowered his binoculars. What was Carmen up to? Standing in the full strength of the scorching sun, he could not understand why Carmen would suddenly leave her nice most likely, cool shade to trot about in the blazing heat. Seemingly unaware of the snarl that twisted his features, the detective let the binoculars dangle as he pushed through the crowds, tailing the lady in blue. Once or twice, he froze in shock but mostly fear, as the thief would glance over her shoulder worriedly, her eyes full of suspicion. However, her gaze would always sweep past him, searching for the stalker she could feel but not see. The man allowed himself a grim smile of satisfaction that the greatest disguise artist could not recognize him in his blue and green kilt and unbuttoned, sleeveless shirt.

Scrubbing a hand through his damp locks, his eyes glazed momentarily in thought. Symbolism was always a part of his sister’s heists, so what was so symbolic about this Scottish gathering? What could she steal here? A raucous shout brought Derek to the present and he bit back a sudden curse. Carmen was nowhere in sight. Scanning the crowd furtively, he muttered a few curses as he glanced at what had broken his reverie. A caber tossing competition was taking place. The caber logs was piled up neatly to one side of the field, while men from various clans were stretching their muscles before trying to throw the heavy timber. Eyeing Scottish men, he could feel something snap into place in his mind. Suddenly a pitiless smile touched his lips. So that was what Carmen was after. Giving the crowd one more searching glance, the detective went to join in the fun. After all, it was hours till sunset.

*

Shadows stretched hungrily across the flat grassland towards the hooded forest, as the sky turned its burning shades of gold, crimson and pink. Human shapes moved in the twilight, gathering together on the flat grasslands and split into two groups. The first group was the largest, consisting of tourists, and a majority of the Scotsman gathered, a thread of anticipation held them together as they watched the second group, who were divided into thick columns. The columns stood facing a wooden, slated structure about six feet high and eight feet across. Each column had a man standing in the front, chosen to declare one’s clan’s presence at the gathering. Representatives held a fiery torch, waiting patiently with fierce pride for the chance to do their duty.

"I am Malcolm MacDougalas, and the Clan MacDougalas of the Highlands stands here!" a young man, just over twenty pronounced proudly before he placed his torch in the wooden structure and returned to his clan’s side.

Enthusiastic applause nearly wiped out the next man’s proclamation but covered the sound of another group approaching the clearing. Behind the group trailed a large searchlight, only portable because of the addition of wheels hastily attached to it. The searchlight lurched to a halt as the group stopped suddenly. Amando moved to unpack the night-vision goggles and walkie-talkies from the backpack he carried. Quietly, he distributed the equipment to the others.

"I don’t like this, Ivy" Zack whispered softly.

"Yeah, me too little bro," she answered.

"We got to find Derek before he harms Carmen," Amando muttered, touching his lasso at his waist, as if reminding himself it was there.

The other detectives, numbering over twenty, nodded silently in agreement before they spread out and immersed themselves into the crowd. Zack’s older sister peered around as if her naked eyes could really see in the dawning dark. Her pale complexion was made paler by the darkness that shrouded her. Ever since they had found out that Carmen was in danger, his sister seemed different…the fire that so often burned in her seemed to splutter.

"Zack, have you ever thought about what life would be like outside Acme?" Ivy asked suddenly.

"No," he responded slowly, trying to see where she could be headed with this. Ivy licked her lips nervously; just a flicker of tongue, but normally Ivy would never let people see her nervousness. "Why do you ask, sis?"

She stared at him so intently, that he was about to repeat his question but she cut him off and told him to forget about it as she once again ran her eyes…almost fevered eyes…over the area before deciding to use the night vision goggles. Amando and Zack exchanged somber glances before Zack bent to check the searchlight. When Carmen was safe, he would find out what was troubling his sister. Right now, Carmen was more important. Is she? He shook his head angrily but could not dispel that thought.

*

Derek rose from his squat gradually, watching to see if the Acme detective in front of him noticed. From his position, he could see Acme’s top detectives by the searchlight talking to each other and now and then raising the night-vision goggles from where they dangled around their necks to their eyes. Well, at least Zack and Amando were talking to each other. Ivy was off to one side, diligently scanning the crowd and giving off orders through her walkie-talkie. The way she stood and the very aura she gave cause the tiny hairs on the base of his neck to rise. It was the stance of a predator ready to spring. Or the stance of an animal caught in a trap ready to go down fighting. He rubbed the back of his neck to smooth down the hairs as he straightened to his full height. Absently, he brushed away at the grass stains on his tan leggings. Would Ivy change everything that he had planned? No, nothing could go wrong now.

He smiled coldly as he heart began to pump again at that mental arrogance. Now he could understand why his sister enjoyed playing these games with these so called detectives. A frown appeared and the feeling of euphoria vanished, replaced by scorn. No, this was not right. But it had to be done. His tired sigh misted in the night’s air as he picked out a woman in a very familiar red trench coat and fedora just creeping out of the shadows near the wooden structure bearing the torches. It had to be done.

*

The night’s cool touch seemed to still the fast pace of her heart and chill the sweat that glistened on her skin. Flames on the various torches crackled loudly as if greeting the last representative of the night as he placed his charge into its allotted slot in the wooden structure. The crowd cheered so loudly that they wiped out the music the bagpipe players tried to sound. Carmen was about to step into the flickering circle of light when suddenly a young man about 17 years old stride by, clipped on his chest was an Acme badge. Caution overruled fear as expertly her eyes scanned the bustling audience and clans, picking out the rest of the Acme agents by the way they walked, talked or held themselves.

She stared in wonder at Ivy, Zack and Amando who stood next to a searchlight. What on Earth were they doing here? How did they know? Eyes suddenly narrowed in suspicion. Did the Chief tell them about her email? But why? Didn’t they trust Derek? As if thinking of him was a summons, a voice called her name very softly from behind her, careful not to attract the attention of the prowling detectives who had congregated around the searchlight. Carmen turned woodenly and saw Derek, dressed, as he was the first time she saw him. For some reason, the only detail that stuck to her mind was that he had dark shadows under his eyes. He must be too stress to sleep properly at night, Carmen’s heart began to ache for him.

"Derek."

"Carmen."

If that was all of their conversation, it would have been perfect.

"Why would you want to steal that?" he asked, not needing to point to the structure that held the torches from all the clans. Censure more than lightly touched his voice.

She could not answer him, the words stuck in her throat. Instead, she filled all the emptiness that she had ever felt into her eyes as she gazed at him. Something flickered in the dark depths of his eyes and his right hand slipped into his leather jacket that was halfway zipped. Suddenly he smiled and amazingly that smile touched his eyes. In the gentlest tone Carmen had ever heard, he said:

"Oh sis, you didn’t need to steal that for us. All of us, you, Avalon and I are…. We," he paused to tapped his heart with his left hand, "we’re a family. No matter whatever happens. Come to me, Carmen. Come now and leave behind everything. This will be a new beginning. Come to me."

"Derek," she whispered, and couldn’t even if her life depended on it, raise her voice any higher, "you mean that Avalon wants me as his daughter?"

He nodded, holding out his left hand to her. "He loves you, more than anything, Carmen." Was there a hint of envy in his voice? His eyes glowed with a strange green fire. His voice dropped lower, "Carmen, there isn’t much time. The Acme detectives will try to stop us…"

Carmen took a step towards Derek. Feeling something flood her, coursed through her blood, filling the emptiness. Yes, to be together like a family. For that chance, she would leave everything…

"Carmen!"

Carmen spun quickly; somehow she knew that it was Ivy that had called. The detectives were moving towards them, they were going to try to take her away. To stop her like they always wanted to. No, not today they would. Not ever again. Suddenly, night became day.

*

"Carmen, step away from Derek!"

"All I ever wanted was a family! Why did you have to take this away from me?" Carmen cried out bitterly at the detectives approaching her, shielding her eyes from the brightness of the searchlight. But a cold, contemptuous wind swallowed her furious words.

"Carmen, freeze!" Derek called out, raising a gun shakily in his right hand.

She turned around to see the man she had called brother aim a gun at her. The barrel leveled at her head, his eyes green icebergs of fury. Her thoughts churned almost as rapidly as the acid in her stomach. Slowly as the coming of dawn, Carmen suddenly understood. If she was captured by Acme, imprisoned, Avalon would be heartbroken and who better than to comfort him than his neglected son?

You‘re my brother! Carmen shouted silently at him, pain squeezed her heart flat as murderous fury twisted his features.

"You told them I was here, didn’t you?"

"Yes!"

"Why, Derek?"

"Because you’re a thief! And he loves you still."

"What about you? What about you, Derek?"

She could see his hand tighten, his trigger finger tensed. And his eyes… if his eyes were deadly cold before now a look could kill her. So be it, let me die, she thought sadly, I have nothing left now. She took a step towards him and stopped at the warning shot, he fired at her foot. Dully she stared down at the ground shattered by the bullet's impact. Then she felt a small smile tug her lips and she raised her head to stare at him. She could see confusion, fear and worry trying to overpower the anger in their depths. What was he afraid of? Her smile grew but it did not reflect any happiness. It seemed she could never find any kind of joy ever again. Slowly she took another step then another. Bits of wet earth bounced onto her shoed foot as another shot hit the ground but she did not stop walking. In fact, she picked up her pace so that she started running. Any second now, a bullet would end it all.

No, Carmen. Stop, please, stop. But she kept on running towards him, her Death and once brother. He took aim... No! He jerked his arm roughly down, squeezing his eyes shut. In his mind he saw them together in the park, her laughter filling the emptiness in his soul. It wasn't suppose to end like this, he thought sadly as he raised his gun again. Somehow, he had envisioned a fairy tale happy ending with Carmen coming to him before the Acme agents had interrupted. If that had happened… but it didn’t. And all his wishes could not change that. Derek carefully took aim; instinct fueled by adrenaline as it overtook his rational mind causing him to squeeze the trigger. If he missed, he would kill himself. But he would not miss because Derek Avalon had never missed in his whole life. Carmen saw Derek's arm absorbed the gun's recoil but she did not feel the bullet's cruel impact, instead she heard something shatter as darkness swallowed everything.

*

"Derek, no!" Ivy screamed as she saw him raise his gun and fired.

The sound of glass shattering filled the night.

"CARMEN!"

Her cry raw and ragged ripped out of her throat. In the same instance, she saw the thief stumble and fall onto her knees. Then the darkness of night crashed in and she could see nothing.

"Carmen?" she whispered softly, her voice harsh from the rawness of her throat.

In stumbling steps, she ran blindly to where she had last saw the thief. If she was dead… no, Carmen can’t be dead. But she had seen the thief fall. The wind felt so cold and sharply whipped her hair in her eyes. Why was there no sound? Could that bullet have torn through the thief’s body and smashed into the searchlight?

"Carmen!"

Tears ran freely down Ivy’s cheeks as she raced. Suddenly, she fell pitched forward as her foot snagged something. She groped about on the wet grass until her fingers brushed against an object. Footsteps approached and Zack held up his flashlight so that it shone on the object she cradled. A cry of relief bubbled inside her throat as she lifted a red stiletto high heel. There was no sign of Carmen anywhere.

Ivy let her brother wordlessly help her stand and then with an arm wrapped around each other they walked to where the rest of the detectives encircled Derek in the flickering circumference of the torches’ light. Casually he stood there arms bond to his sides with Amando’s rope, the gun lying on the ground near his foot as if he had dropped it after firing.

"Shall we start searching for Carmen?" one of the detectives asked.

"She would still be in the vicinity," Amando muttered.

Several of the Acme team began to split themselves up into search parties, as the noise and hubbub grew a voice quietly but emphatically sliced through bringing silence.

"No."

All the detectives stared at her in surprise except Zack who had a considering look in his eyes. Carmen was out there somewhere, probably still in shock, she would be easy to catch but… somehow, the young woman knew that the thief was not running away from them. Somehow, she knew then that Carmen had never been running away from them all along. Amando, perhaps thinking that she was still in shock, dared to protest.

"But Ivy, Carmen’s getting away."

"Let it go, Amando," her voice frozen.

"Ivy-"

Her red rimmed stare belonged to a ruthless killer and Amando finally raised his hands in surrender, before nodding but his eyes held anger and irritation. Most of the others too wore their disapproval openly on their faces but she didn’t care. Couldn’t care any longer about what others thought. Only Zack had a slight glimmer of understanding on his face.

Ivy being the senior of the detectives, bent down to pick the weapon up, running her hands over the smooth metal. She unloaded the magazine and saw that there was no bullets there nor in the chamber. So, he was arrogant enough to think that he wouldn’t miss, did he? The young woman raised her eyes to stare at him, her vision starting to cloud with red. He met her gaze levelly and smiled. Something burst inside Ivy, and without thinking she slapped the man hard enough that he staggered as his head whipped back. Zack started to raise his hand as if to stop her, then he let it fall, his eyes cold.

"It’s a good thing that you missed, you son of a bitch!"

Derek looked at her sanely, unimpressed that she quivered with anger, uncaring of the blood that trickled from his cut lip and asked so softly that only Ivy heard, "Did I?"

*

Rain sleeted down the misted windows as a low moan of thunder sounded. The priceless antique clock chimed softly, announcing that it would be midnight in fifteen minutes. The bedchamber was wrapped in a tight ward of silence and darkness. An inlaid table lay on its side, one leg broken off, as if it was knocked over and bludgeon with its own leg, which was broken in half and had been flung to the far corners of the room. Catching the tiny glimmers of moonlight on the floor shimmered a mound of broken polished mirror shards. Liquid crimson also glittered brightly on the shiny, jagged surfaces and red spots dotted their way from broken mirror into the shadows.

Huddled in her chair, too drained to be bothered to change her clothes, the thief let her head hang in her hands. Closing her eyes seemed to ease the burning sensation in them but if her eyes burned the rest of her was icy cold. It wasn’t the damp clothes or the fact that chilly water trickled in rivulets from her wet hair. What should have made her burn with rage was the betrayal Derek had did to her. But like the blood that spurted down her cheek from the gashes in her right hand, all anger just seeped out of her leaving only hollow bitterness behind. Swimming through the murky bitterness was the question, "Why?"

Why did he betray her when yesterday they had been fine? Why did the Acme detectives not try to follow? Why did Ivy not give the order? No that was not the question the thief wanted to ask. Hidden in a bush, she had seen Derek stagger at Ivy’s slap but most of all she had heard Ivy’s fury. She had felt Ivy’s fury…why? I wouldn’t only be that furious at someone unless… Carmen sniffed and wiped her sudden running nose angrily but her eyes were still dry. So, Ivy really did care about her. Fleetingly, something close to a smile eased the aching of her bruised heart. But memories had caught her up and she did not dwell on that sentiment for long.

When it was clear that the detectives would not try to give chase, Carmen had slipped away quietly as it started to rain and found a blue and silver civilian plane close by with its cockpit standing invitingly open. Since hers would probably be surrounded by now, she took the invitation. By the way it flew, she knew whom it must have belonged to. Even with lightning raging outside the cockpit and chaotic winds buffeting the plane dangerously, Carmen did not keep her mind on flying. She had been tempted to let her control slack for an instant. An instant would be all that it took to set her free. She might not even have felt it. Dying that is. But something inside her, perhaps Suhara’s teaching, perhaps her will, would not let her take the cowardly way out. True, some of Carmen’s actions could be viewed as cowardly and she could admit that she agreed on several but she was determined not to be that kind of Coward.

Thud! Carmen bit deeply into her bottom lip, trying to keep back the cry of pain as she cradled her ruined hand that she had banged unconsciously on the armrest. What does the sound of one hand-clapping make? A phantom Suhara wanted to know. She flexed her uninjured hand, watching the fingers close around air before clenching into a fist. Again she flexed her hand. Then she raised her injured hand and then flexed both of them. What does the sound of one hand-clapping make?

"Nothing, " she whispered in reply.

Because one hand could not clap alone but… Her hands clenched so tight that her long fingernails nearly drew blood from beneath her gloves’ leather. But it represented so much more…worse than being alone. Shaking, she raised a fist before her face. Anger, hatred, fear, yes those is what could cause someone to clap one-handedly. Someone like Derek.

One of the dual heavy oak doors of her bedchamber opened after an obsequious knock sounded. A henchman stuck his head in, his eyes blinking to adjust to the darkness.

"Ms Sandiego?"

"Leave me alone, " her voice a rough, low growl.

"But there’s a package for you, it came this morning but you had left before security was done with it."

Carmen thought for a moment then commanded softly, almost in a tone semblance to her old self, "Bring it here."

The young henchman plainly hesitated then he opened the door wide, carrying a wrapped parcel under his arm. He tried not to stare at the broken shards of mirror or the dismembered chair as he placed the rectangular box carefully on the bed. He gave her an awkward bow and backed out of the room, never tacking his eyes off her. Once he got to the doors, he stepped outside quickly and slammed it shut. The thief paid no attention to the sound running footsteps fading away as the henchman ran from her apartments. Eyes focused on the package on her bed, she frowned darkly in thought.

So, shooting at her was not enough, wasn’t it? Might as well go out in blazing glory, better than dying weak, or being imprisoned. But the box had paused security so it could not be a bomb…what was in it?

Finally, more than anything, curiosity made her get up and walk to the bed. Sitting on the marble floor, she slowly picked up the box, marveling at the unusual velvet texture of the brown wrapping paper. Then she used one of the broken shards to slice off the wrapping, revealing a rectangular mahogany box that opened on top. Engraved on the lid was the logo of Acme Agency, her finger traced the whirls lovingly for a moment. Then she lifted the lid easily and stared numbly at what was inside. The box fell to her lap and out toppled out was a tattered brown teddy bear wearing a silver collar. Her finger traced the worn ear wonderingly, could this be? This couldn’t be what she thought it was. She inhaled deeply the scratchy fur and crushed the bear to her. Memories filtered through her emptiness, bringing light. Yes, it felt right. Oh God, it must be. But how?

A long slip of crinkled, white paper peeking out of the collar’s button caught her eye. She took it out, hurriedly smoothed it and began reading the message an unfamiliar hand.

Carmen Avalon,

Look what I found collecting dust in Acme’s Evidence Room. I remember seeing a picture of you in their dossier holding this, so I believe this belongs to you.

Sis, no one can take what belongs to you. No matter if the world denies you your name, I will stand by you forever.

It was signed simply as Derek. Was everything he had said to her was a lie? That can’t be right, he did keep one promise, he had promised in the park that he would never hurt her. He had swore he wouldn’t hurt yet he had threatened her with a gun. Had aimed to kill her…her mind focused sharply replaying the scene again: a scream trying to force itself out of her constricted throat as the gun fired, and at that instant, her foot stumbled on the uneven ground and she fell. The bullet flying harmlessly by, streaking towards the searchlight and bringing darkness. Ivy’s scream piercing the air. Frowning, Carmen replayed that scene again and now saw that the bullet would have missed her even if she had tripped.

With a soft, sharp hiss the paper tore into two in Carmen’s shaking hands and she started laughing bitterly. Amazingly, only now everything clicked together and she the greatest mastermind in the world had not seen it coming.

*

Party streamers myriaded the air, horns blared loudly as music boomed from the a compact CD player. Teenagers to young adults danced and cheered madly, below their feet, underneath the litter was the Acme Agency’s emblem. For the first time, Acme was celebrating a Carmen Sandiego’s escape. Most of the revelers held cups of punch in their hands, most often spilling it than drinking it. Some of the older detectives, those near twenty, sipped their glasses of wine and talked softly in the corners. Ivy sat by herself, eyes dark, her glass of red wine sitting forgotten on her knees. Earlier Zack had tried to talk to her, but she remained despondent. Finally, he left to dance with Tatiana, casting worried glances towards his unusually quiet sister.

Snatches of conversation the Chief overhead revealed that the topic tonight was Derek’s escape and how fast that maniac would be apprehended. A minor but more important theme on everyone’s lips was how odd Ivy had been behaving. Amando was relating that they would have caught Carmen and had Derek safely behind bars if he had been field leader instead of that pasty gringo chick. Zack had nearly exploded at that, while the older detectives glowered and a fight would have ensued between Amando’s supporters and Ivy’s peers if Tatiana hadn’t dragged Amando out of the room. The Chief decreed that if anyone even considered degrading another detective, they would be suspended. Conversation then turned to Lee Jordan and laughter soon returned.

The Chief moved out of the main control room, his hover merely just a shamble, as he entered a large dark storeroom, far away from the sounds of jubilation. His electronic sensors whirled and scanned as his CGI eyes looked around in the darkness. It seemed he was alone.

"So it is done?"

The Chief turned towards the sound of that cold, weary voice. A shadow shifted from behind a rack of electronical hardware, and then a man stepped into his circle of light. His clothes were rumpled, even his leather jacket looked weary, as he smiled insolently despite the cut on his lower lip.

"Yes, the world leaders have decided that Acme is indeed the best and safer agency to bring Carmen Sandiego to justice. "

There was a moment of silence. Both men slid into the shadows at the sound of approaching footsteps. The footsteps stopped then turned and receded away. The Chief let out a long sigh of relief before giving his companion a judging look. Finally the two emerged out from the shadows and the Chief floated at the tall man’s shoulder.

"Why did you do it? Why did you make up this whole elaborate scheme to save Acme’s reputation?" the Chief asked, his voice fervent with desire.

The man frowned, not hearing the Chief’s murmur; staring at his large hands as if they held all the answers in the world then he raised cold eyes and asked softly, "Is she alright?"

"Yes, from what I know, she’ll be fine with some time."

He nodded once, grudgingly and pushed past the AI to leave through the door.

"What will you do now?"

He did not look back then whispered harshly, "Heal. Wait."

"For what?" he had to ask.

"Until she needs me, " Derek said. He did look back then, his eyes shining brightly with pain and unshed tears.

The Chief’s heart went out to him, he seemed so alone standing there in the doorway. Plainly he was hesitant to go but he didn’t, no couldn’t, stay here. If Ivy got hold of him, he would not live to survive the encounter. He was a wanted man now, hunted by the authorities and most secret service agencies. A blue halo appeared, just barely tall or wide enough to fit him. Derek looked surprised; suspicion and fear chased each other across his features before he nodded to the Chief and then jumped through.

*

The last bloody shafts of the setting sun smeared the white, powdery sandy shore. Listening to the gentle pounding of the surf, a woman stood ankle-deep in the shallows, her head cocked to the side and a brief smile on her lips. Gentle streams of wind stroked her red hair, as she pivoted on the spot, splashing up the warm, salty water.

The roar of a motorbike made her turn, and shade her eyes from the brilliance of the sun. She squinted but she could not make out the rider.

"Ivy."

The young woman smiled pleased at the sight of the older woman, who made her way carefully down the stone steps in the slope. As she stepped onto the sands, she doffed off the boots she was wearing. Her socks followed and then the woman rolled up her velvet trousers before wading into the shallows. The older woman regarded her with clear blue eyes and smiled mysteriously.

"I heard that you requested to be promoted to the Red Rank, that could be very dangerous."

"The Chief wouldn’t have by chance told you to come here to talk me out of it, huh Carmen?" she asked smiling.

The thief’s eyebrow crinkled in amusement perhaps it was at Ivy’s teasing tone. Then her amusement faded away, "Why are you so eager to grow up?"

Ivy sighed and bent to run her hand through the gentle waves. Her voice was soft, earnest yet mild. Carmen gave a start, Ivy was many things but seldom mild. She scrutinized the detective carefully and noticed some changes she hadn’t seen before.

"We can’t stop growing up. And this game, this game tires me. I feel that I could much more good in Red Rank."

"But in the Red Rank? There would be no games there, Ivy. A single mistake could cost your life or the lives of your teammates. I was thrust into the Red Rank at the age of 16 because of my intellect but that didn’t prepare me for it. Please reconsider what you’re doing, for Zack’s sake…and mine," if more than a tint of frustration touched her voice, good.

She met the thief’s gaze levelly, her green eyes bright and determined. The cloud of anger and frustration that Carmen had most often seen in them might have never been.

"I know. I know that I would face criminals deadlier than Maelstrom or Lee Jordan put together. But I am prepared, your mental games have prepared me for them. As for Zack… Zack knows that I’ll be there for him when he needs me but he is growing too, " she said quietly.

Carmen tried to find something to say but couldn’t. Instead with a strange stinging in her eyes, she gruffly embraced the other woman and whispered, "You will do fine. I’m so proud of you, you and Zack both for the adults you are becoming."

Ivy returned the hug with some semblance of her old self, her grip strong and firm. Then she stepped back, "Carmen, I never did thank you for saving my life," she said, her eyes studying the clouds of sand that rose as she shifted her feet.

The thief was looking at her strangely, almost as if she was shocked beyond words but that could not be. She was Carmen Sandiego, the world’s greatest thief.

"No, Ivy. I never thanked you or Zack for saving mine. For fulfilling my greatest wish."

The twilight managed to make her black hair shine purple as she took out a gold locket that hung around her neck and threw it into the sea.

*

Player: Ha! I nearly caught you that time, Carmen.

Carmen: Did you, Player? Is that the farthest you dare to dream, catching me?

Player: What are you trying to say? I don’t understand.

Carmen: Of course, you don’t understand. You’re too young.

Player: I’m not too young.

Carmen: When you respond like that, you do sound very young. But perhaps you’re not. I had thought shaping young minds would have been the greatest gift my intellect could endow but I was wrong. I had followed the wrong dream, pretended to be someone I wasn’t.

Player: What are you talking about Carmen?

Carmen: I’m tired of this farce. The game is over. Maybe you can find a better dream, one that you can achieve, Player. Farewell.

Player: Carmen? Carmen?

[The End]