carmen sandiego oneshots

Help her (Ketchup chips)

After Bla- Carmen Sandiego's escape off VILE Island, Jake Bouchard struggles.

"Carmen," he pleads, careful to keep his voice quiet. "Please, just a few bites. Please."

"They're gonna kill me, Player," She laughs. Her voice is bitter, poisonous, so uncharacteristic of her that it makes him want to cry. She's nothing like the sarcastic, smart-mouthed girl he'd befriended, on days like these, and he doesn't blame her, he really doesn't, but he doesn't know how to help and it hurts. "It doesn't matter."

He doesn't know how to tell her: it does. He doesn't know how to say: it matters to me. He doesn't know how to explain: you're one of the most important people in my life. He's never met her face to face. He's never seen her face, in fact. Just the blurry shape of her silhouette in the photo he'd scoured the internet for, on the day he found out about the heist she hijacked. He doesn't know her, but she's become one of the most important people in his life. He really, really doesn't want to scare her, not when she's halfway across the globe and so, so easily lost. So easily gone.

Instead, he says "You just have to get to the Falls, we can figure this out, I promise we can, but not if you starve to death." It's pathetic, really, the way his voice cracks. He's supposed to be helping her, but instead, he's just letting his emotions get the best of him. He needs to be better. He needs to make things easier for her. She can't die on him.

Ammi is sleeping in the next room, having turned in... some five hours ago? he doesn't really remember. All the days have started to blur together, really -- he hasn't slept in nearly two days, on a constant call with Carmen. He's had a crick in his neck for the last two weeks. Every time he thinks he's about to fall asleep, slumped over his desk, he gets the message that there's a boat approaching Carmen's, and he has to wake her up from her rest to get her to steer away. Sometimes, if the other ship's course isn't too near, he remotely cloaks the radar signal, because Carmen has barely been sleeping, and although the sleep she gets is filled with nightmares, it's still miles better than nothing.

"It doesn't matter," She repeats, except this time she just sounds resigned. It's so, so much worse than the acid of her tone before. He doesn't know what to do.

"Carmen... Carmen." He stops, breathes. Tries to compose himself. He has to do this right. All the words have been failing him recently. "You just have to get to the Falls. We'll take care of everything from there. Please, Carmen. No one wants you to die."

Shit.

"VILE wants me dead," Carmen says. Shit shit shit. "And they'll achieve it."

Jake... isn't supposed to say that. He isn't supposed to give her empty assurances. He's figured out, the hard way, that doesn't work. He just can't seem to keep anything in his brain anymore -- he's forgotten every social skill he's ever had, even though he knew very few to begin with, in the face of the all-encompassing enormity of Carmen's sudden escape. He isn't supposed to mess it up this bad.

He's supposed to-- he doesn't know, alright? just not that. Just not that. He needs to find a way to tell her that they don't matter, that she's okay, that--

God. 

What the hell is he doing?

The silence stretches on for a moment. It seems like an hour, but Jake is thinking, brain whirring to find the right words. He doesn't want to sound like he's reading off a movie script, he doesn't want to sound face, he doesn't want to lie to her, he doesn't want to tell her the truth -- that he doesn't know what he's doing, that he doesn't know how to keep her alive, that he can't do this right. He needs her alive, just for a little longer, just a little more...

"If you die," he settles on, knowing that this isn't the right way to say it, but lacking any other words, "I follow you, Carmen."

She doesn't say anything, but he can hear her breathing grow louder. More erratic. Faster. He messed up. He needs to find a way to make it better. He needs to help her, not send her into a fucking panic attack, he needs to do more research on trauma, he needs to check that there aren't any ships on course to her location, he needs to make her eat, sleep, drink water, he needs to-

"Player."

This, at least, sounds like the girl he'd talked to, having hacked through twenty-seven layers of encryption, slightly worried, a little confused. He knows she can hear his breathing as well -- she panics when she can't hear him, so he has one of those microphone headphones pressed as close as it will get without touching his face. He only agreed because she'd agreed to do the same. It was a necessity: after that one nightmare,  she said some things--

("They're going to kill me, I don't want them to kill me, anyone but them. I-I'll even do it myself, just not them, not them, please, I'll do it, I'll do it--")

Jake needs to keep her alive. This isn't a negotiation. He needs to keep her alive.

Now, if only he knew how to do that.

"Player," she repeats, slow and quiet. "You can't do that."

"Fucking test me," he snarls, then-- dammit, he wasn't supposed to say that out loud. He doesn't miss the way her breath hitches. "Sorry, sorry, just-- I don't want you dead. It matters to me."

She doesn't say anything for a long while, breaths uneven and hitchy. Player, for the millionth time, tries to hack into the ship. He can't find cameras still, so either they were too encrypted or they just didn't exist, but that doesn't stop him from trying again. And again. And agai-

"What kind of snacks do you eat in Canada?" she's whispering, so clearly cautious, but Jake doesn't have that kind of hesitancy -- he instantly hopes, fills with this overwhelming relief. In the dark of his room at four AM, he doesn't even need to keep himself from smiling -- he's grinning ear to ear. It's so hard to convince Carmen to stay, at least until Ontario, and every small victory is like climbing another hill. It's easy to get lost in this high, and that's exactly what he does, throwing all caution to the wind.

"Have you ever had ketchup chips?"

you guys ketchup chips are so so gross to me. however, player is the kind of heathen to enjoy that shit, so i gave him the hypothetical space to give a ketchup lays commercial

the writing style hops are crazy in this book huh

also for anyone who might be rereading this -- yes i edited the a/n in. it was bothering me that i didn't get to express my opinions on ketchup chips.

cya qwerts!!

~nadia