Follow Me to Heaven, 4/4
Title: Follow Me to Heaven, chapter four
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Rating: T/PG-13
Word Count: 3,333
Main Characters: Fictional Rockapella (Sean, Scott, Elliott, Barry)
Summary: The aftermath.
Will be posted to 10_hurt_comfort.
Chapter Four
Elliott shivered, the cold wind nipping at his bare feet as Scott carried him out of the cabin and back to the main lodge. He was wrapped in the robe Sean had purloined, for lack of anything else to wear. But Barry was getting their luggage from the trunk of the car. There would be something else for Elliott to put on out of what he had brought.
Scott was still in the toga. "I'll be okay for a few minutes," he had said to Barry. "If I try to wear your robe, I'll trip on it!" Which was certainly true. But Scott hurried as fast as he could to get inside, not wanting Elliott to be exposed to the harsh wind for long.
Now he looked at his friend with worry as he stepped back into the entryway of the lodge. "El, did you have to walk to the cabin just in that kilt?!" he exclaimed.
Elliott looked away. "Well . . . they weren't going to do me any favors," he said.
Scott shivered, heading down the hall and around the corner to the room he had been in. Behind them, Sean and Barry were bringing the luggage.
"I guess that's the least of what they did," Scott muttered. "Sean, can you move my clothes?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder.
Sean blinked. "Oh, sure," he said. Slipping into the room ahead of Scott, he moved Scott's clothes to a chair, gawking at the broken window. "What happened here?!"
Scott sighed. "I'll tell you later," he said, laying Elliott on the bed.
Barry set the suitcases on the floor. "Here's Elliott's," he announced, placing it beside the bed.
"Thanks," Scott said. He clicked it open, setting it on the edge of the bed where Elliott could look through it. "Can you get into them alright?" he asked, worried as he watched Elliott's trembling hands lift up the folded clothes.
But the brunet smiled at him. "Yeah," he said. "I can do that. . . . But I might need help walking to the helicopter," he admitted, looking sheepish.
"No problem," Scott smiled back.
Then his eyes widened, the memory of something Caelius had said returning to him. "Hey," he said, "Caelius said something about the people in the other cabins being killed tonight too."
Elliott stiffened. "That's right," he said. "I remember that!"
Sean stared at them. "Just a minute," he said. "I'm going to run out and make sure the other agents are checking the cabins." Without waiting for a reply he hurried off, running back up the corridors to the front doors. Who was in the cabins? Other people who had rebelled at earlier times? Maybe even . . .
He threw open one of the doors, leaning into the night. ACME agents were everywhere on the grounds. Some had, indeed, started searching the other cabins. As Sean watched, they helped weakened people through the doors and to the helicopters.
"Hey!" he called to the nearest agent. "Need a hand?"
"We've got it covered," the other agent returned. "These people were being starved to try to force them into being loyal to the cult."
Sean's lip curled in revulsion. "Did they try to blow the whistle?" he asked.
A nod. "Pretty much. They were being given a chance to 'repent' of their 'sins'." The agent vanished into the helicopter with the person he was assisting.
Sean slumped back, closing the door. That was just disgusting. But at the same time, joy and relief were sweeping over him. These people would be able to have the chance to get better and keep living.
He turned, heading back to the room by the dining hall.
When he arrived, Scott was still trying to unwind the stubborn toga. He looked up, hope in his eyes. "Well?"
"There were people there, alright," Sean said. "Being starved. But they're still alive. They're the ones who tried to communicate and tell about the cult."
"Starved?!" Elliott cried in horror from the bed.
Barry did not speak, but his expression said it all.
Sean nodded. "Crazy guy," he muttered.
Scott swallowed hard, looking back to the task at hand as he fumbled with the folds of cloth. At last the toga came undone, falling around his ankles. He stepped out of it in disgust, leaving it on the floor as he grabbed his trousers.
"It's going to be incredible to get home," he said, deciding a change of subject was in order.
Elliott pulled out some clothes from the suitcase and sat up, slipping out of the much-too-big robe. "This has to be one of the longest days we've ever spent," he agreed. Placing the clothes on the bed, he swung his legs over the edge and pushed himself up, balancing himself against the side until it felt safe to let go.
Sean had gone back to the doorway. Now he leaned against it, crossing his arms. "'Long' is an understatement," he said. "And we all have a lot of blanks to fill in."
"Yeah, like where you and Barry were all that time!" Scott exclaimed. "Prosperus tried to get me to join his movement! He said you two had already joined to save El!"
Sean stared at him. "We never even talked to the guy," he said.
Now Scott was buttoning his shirt. He sighed, shaking his head. "I figured as much."
"We were just wandering through a replica of the house," Barry grunted.
Elliott, struggling to get into his pants, nearly took a tumble at the statement. "Huh?!" he gasped.
"These weirdos built an exact copy of all the rooms at the back of the house!" Sean said. "The meditation room leads to it."
". . . That's just bizarre," Scott frowned.
"To say the least," Sean said.
By now Elliott had somehow managed to get into his trousers without falling. But his knees were knocking. He sank onto the bed, breathing a sigh of relief as he pulled on an undershirt. Then he reached for a dark red dress shirt, but instead of putting it on, he sank back into the mattress. Getting dressed took so much effort. He was so tired. . . . And everything hurt so badly. . . .
Scott looked to him, worried. "Hey, El, we could stay here tonight," he said. "You really need to rest."
But Elliott stiffened at the thought. "No!" he exclaimed. "I wouldn't sleep a wink in this place. The helicopter's outside, waiting for us. Please . . . let's just go home." He sat up again, looking over at Scott.
At last the blond nodded. It really would be better, for all of them.
Elliott slid his arms into the familiar shirt before moving to button it. "I don't think I'll bother with a vest," he mumbled as he finished. "Not right now."
"Yeah," Sean agreed, standing by to help as Elliott struggled to get to his feet, "let's just skedaddle."
Scott buttoned his own vest and plopped his hat on his head. But then he crossed back to the bed, holding out his coat. "Here, El," he said. "You take it tonight."
Elliott blinked. "You need it, Scott," he said. "You must've been really cold in that toga. . . ."
"I'm okay," Scott smiled. "You're the one who got beat up, El. You need the coat more than I do." He placed it around Elliott's shoulders.
Finally Elliott nodded. "Thank you," he said, drawing his arms into the sleeves. He smiled weakly at Scott.
Barry and Sean picked up the luggage again. "And we are out of here!" Sean exclaimed. "Good riddance!"
Scott chuckled, lifting Elliott into his arms for the trip to the helicopter. The friends left the room without so much as a backwards glance, beginning their journey back up the corridor
Sean paused at the room where Elliott had been held captive. "Just a second," he called. Then he went inside, returning with Elliott's hat. "Here you go," he said, plopping it on Elliott's head. "For some reason they didn't tear it up."
"Probably only because they couldn't," Elliott said wearily, slumping against Scott.
****
Soon the quartet was boarding the helicopter that would take them back to ACME. The cult members had been arrested and were in the other helicopters, but the innocent retreaters and the starving whistle-blowers were traveling with Rockapella. There was, however, one dark-robed person in their party.
Sean blinked, following behind Scott as he and Barry climbed aboard. "Who's that?" he wondered. "Shouldn't he be in chains like the rest?"
Barry shook his head. "He's the other infiltrator-Alister," he said. "One of the people we were supposed to find."
Sean's eyes widened. "No kidding."
Elliott looked over at him. "He's the one who cut me free so I could help you," he said to Scott.
Scott shuddered. Elliott could have been hurt far worse if he had not been freed. He crossed the large interior to one of the vacant, plush bench seats and laid Elliot down on his side. "Thank you for helping him," he said to the stranger as he sat down next to Elliott. Sean and Barry got onto the bench behind their friends.
The mysterious man looked up. "He needed it," he said. "All of you did." He slid out of the robe, depositing it on the floor. "I've had enough of that thing." He ran a hand through his short red hair, making certain the styling had stayed in place. It was, indeed, very flipped.
Scott blinked. "Hey, you're the one who started that commotion back there, aren't you?" he realized. "The one who asked if the girl was the only one who had a conscience."
Alister nodded. "It kind of had the effect I wanted. I was hoping there were others as angry as I was. But I was also hoping it would stall for time, which it didn't."
"I'm sure it helped anyway," Scott said. "Those people were definitely an asset during that fight!"
"Your friends will be relieved you're safe," Barry said. "They asked us to find you."
"They wanted to infiltrate themselves," Sean said. "But they couldn't since someone high up in the cult had already seen them."
The younger man frowned. "I didn't want to worry them," he said. "But this was something I had to do."
"So did you really know that creep?" Sean wanted to know.
"I'll be writing a report for the police and ACME. You can read it." The redhead turned away and crossed his arms, signaling the end of the conversation.
Sean frowned. "Sociable guy," he muttered. "He acts like he's the one giving orders. We should be lecturing him for not leaving this up to the professionals."
"I've had experience with cults," was the flat response.
"Oh, and that makes it hunky-dory," Sean returned. "Well, let me tell you, people shouldn't be playing vigilantes. This is dangerous work!"
"I know." Alister leaned back, looking unimpressed.
Barry just sighed. "Let it go for now, Sean," he said. This had the potential to become very ugly. And that was not what they needed right now.
Sean pushed his hat back, wanting the last word in their disagreement. "Well . . . I can't approve of you running around like that," he said. "But . . . I do have to thank you for helping Elliott."
"He needed it," Alister said.
Sean looked like he wanted to say something to that. But instead he closed his mouth and slumped into the seat.
Elliott lay on the other seat, his head on Scott's lap, as he glanced around the helicopter's interior. Cheryl was quiet, sitting by herself on the other side. She leaned forward, her long blonde hair falling around her shoulders. Then, realizing Elliott was watching her, she looked to him.
"I was so stupid," she berated. "I shouldn't have ever run away from home. And I really shouldn't have joined Master . . . I mean, Caelius's retreat. It sounded so good in the ads. . . ."
"Those kinds of places always do," Sean said.
She sighed. "But look what happened to you and your friends! I can't believe any civilized person could act like Caelius did with you."
"Me either," Scott muttered. He kept his arm protectively around Elliott as they prepared for lift-off.
". . . Why did you join?" Elliott asked.
She shrugged. "I don't know. . . . He promised things . . . good things. Stuff I wanted. I guess . . . I just wanted something real to believe in."
Elliott mulled over that. "Well," he said at last, "if you want something real to believe in, you could try God."
Cheryl blinked in surprise, but then nodded. "Yeah," she said. "Maybe I will." She smiled a bit at Elliott, who blushed. But then Elliott smiled too, relaxing on the seat.
The helicopter was taking off now. And it would not take too long to fly back to downtown Manhattan. They would be home soon, where the worst thing they would have to worry about was Mrs. Pumpkinclanger yelling.
And that was something to be grateful for.
He looked back up at Scott. "I'm so sorry you were put through this," he said, keeping his voice low. "I know you're still suffering because of what the ring made you do. . . ." He laid a hand on Scott's arm. "I wanted more than anything to be there for you. . . ."
Scott started, looking down at Elliott. ". . . I've been thinking about that all day," he confessed. "But more than that . . . I've been thinking about how horrible it was for you to see me hit by that car . . . and for that to be dragged through the mud by the rotten way Caelius was acting."
Elliott cringed at the memory of seeing Scott sprawled on a Los Angeles dock. "You couldn't help it," he said.
"I know," Scott admitted. "I . . . I tried to do everything I could to make sure that you didn't get hurt this time. . . . But those creeps already hurt you! And then you had to fight Caelius. . . ."
"I was glad to," Elliott said. "I kept him from killing you."
Sean leaned forward, crossing his arms on the top of the seat. "So how'd you get the conk on your head?" he asked.
". . . Caelius shoved me," Elliott said. "But when he did, he lost his own balance."
Sean snorted. "Poetic justice, I'd say."
Barry sighed, crossing his arms. "He'll probably be able to plead not guilty by reason of insanity," he said, "but who knows if he will. I doubt if his lawyer will be able to convince him."
"They'll probably have to try to determine his mental condition before the trial anyway, after the reports we and hopefully others will give," Elliott said.
"Well, whether he goes to prison or a mental hospital, I just hope he stays there," Scott said. "He shouldn't ever get out."
"No kidding. He's a danger to humanity!" Sean straightened up. "And now I'm wondering just how many people he and his cult really did kill . . . and what happened to the bodies."
Barry frowned. "Search-and-Rescuenet is probably going to be digging up the grounds," he said. "I'm hoping some of the cult members confess."
Alister glanced back at him. "I wasn't able to find out what happened to the bodies," he said. "Tonight was the first time one of those sacrifices happened when I was around."
"Pleasant," Sean muttered. He leaned back, a bitter lyric running through his mind. I put the garbage in your head, I'm a genuine one-of-a-kind. . . . He had the feeling that he would be writing many songs to get out his feelings about this misadventure. He knew exactly how confusing it could be to decide what was true and what was not, and spiritual deceivers were among the kinds of people that angered him the most. Particularly if they tried to hurt his friends.
But though Prosperus really was a fraud, Caelius had believed in what he had been doing. And considering that he really had seemed to have some kind of twisted foresight, perhaps the most disturbing question was, Who had put the garbage in Caelius's head?
Sean was not sure he even wanted to know.
On the seat on front of him, Scott gave a quiet, exhausted sigh. But a trace of a smile crossed his features when he looked down at Elliott. The brunet's eyes were closed, his breathing having evened out and deepened. He was asleep.
Yeah, that's it, El, Scott said in his mind, not daring to speak aloud for fear of waking his friend. Just sleep. You more than deserve it.
He leaned back against the seat, staring at the ceiling. Maybe the nightmares would still come, but for now Elliott's slumber was peaceful. And after all the times one or the other of them had been awakened by cruel dream-memories in the past weeks, a peaceful sleep was sorely needed.
Of course, Scott still felt horrible about both the ring and the car fiascos. Pushing El was something he could never take back. But he could at least be grateful that it had been entirely against his will. He would never hurt Elliott on purpose, just as he had told Caelius and Prosperus.
He hoped Elliott would not continue to blame himself for Scott being hit by a car. It was true, what Scott had said-Elliott had only had Scott's welfare at heart. The Pharaoh's adviser had known the car would come, but Elliott had not had any idea. And Scott could not stand to see Elliott believing that it was his fault. Caelius had rubbed salt into a gaping wound.
He looked back at Elliott. There was even a bruise on the back of his left hand. Scott stared at it. What had Elliott suffered during the time they had been separated? Scott doubted he would ever know. Elliott would not want him to know, if he could help it. He would gloss over the full extent of his injuries.
They would, and had, all done the same thing. None of them wanted the others to worry if they were hurt.
Elliott stirred, his eyes opening halfway. For a moment he looked around, clearly confused by their surroundings. Scott chuckled.
"We're still on the helicopter, El," he explained.
"Helicopter?" Elliott yawned. "Oh." He settled down again, falling silent.
". . . Scott?" he said at last.
Scott blinked. He had thought Elliott had fallen back to sleep. "Yeah?" he asked.
Elliott looked up at him. "I . . . I'll always be haunted by what happened in L.A.," he said, completely serious. "This crazy experience made me realize that all the more. But . . ." He gripped Scott's light-blue sleeve. "I guess it's ironic, all things considered, but Caelius made me realize something. For the first time, I can say that you being hit by the car was an accident . . . and really know that's the truth."
Scott stared at his best friend. For a moment he could not comprehend. Elliott had suffered so long with those agonizing feelings . . . ! But then he smiled, understanding fully dawning.
"I've waited to hear that," he said. "I was hoping it would come, when the time was right."
Elliott sat up, weakened and shaking but smiling back.
"I've been waiting to hear something too," he said.
Scott swallowed hard. He knew what Elliott meant. And could he say it? Could he say it and fully mean it?
. . . Yes, he could. He could because it was true.
He laid his hands gently on Elliott's shoulders. "I know you have," he said. "And . . ." He looked into his friend's eyes. "Me pushing you . . ." He trembled. "That . . . was an accident too." He had been reaching out to Elliott for help. It had been the ring that had caused him to push his friend.
Elliott nodded. "It was," he said, quietly but firmly. "I know it was." He reached out, pulling Scott into a hug despite his aching arms.
Scott's reply caught in his throat. Instead he held Elliott close, being mindful of the older man's injuries.
Behind them, Sean grinned. "Well, hallelujah!" he declared.
Barry smiled.
They had been waiting for this, too.
Finally, they were healing.
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Rating: T/PG-13
Word Count: 3,333
Main Characters: Fictional Rockapella (Sean, Scott, Elliott, Barry)
Summary: The aftermath.
Will be posted to 10_hurt_comfort.
Chapter Four
Elliott shivered, the cold wind nipping at his bare feet as Scott carried him out of the cabin and back to the main lodge. He was wrapped in the robe Sean had purloined, for lack of anything else to wear. But Barry was getting their luggage from the trunk of the car. There would be something else for Elliott to put on out of what he had brought.
Scott was still in the toga. "I'll be okay for a few minutes," he had said to Barry. "If I try to wear your robe, I'll trip on it!" Which was certainly true. But Scott hurried as fast as he could to get inside, not wanting Elliott to be exposed to the harsh wind for long.
Now he looked at his friend with worry as he stepped back into the entryway of the lodge. "El, did you have to walk to the cabin just in that kilt?!" he exclaimed.
Elliott looked away. "Well . . . they weren't going to do me any favors," he said.
Scott shivered, heading down the hall and around the corner to the room he had been in. Behind them, Sean and Barry were bringing the luggage.
"I guess that's the least of what they did," Scott muttered. "Sean, can you move my clothes?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder.
Sean blinked. "Oh, sure," he said. Slipping into the room ahead of Scott, he moved Scott's clothes to a chair, gawking at the broken window. "What happened here?!"
Scott sighed. "I'll tell you later," he said, laying Elliott on the bed.
Barry set the suitcases on the floor. "Here's Elliott's," he announced, placing it beside the bed.
"Thanks," Scott said. He clicked it open, setting it on the edge of the bed where Elliott could look through it. "Can you get into them alright?" he asked, worried as he watched Elliott's trembling hands lift up the folded clothes.
But the brunet smiled at him. "Yeah," he said. "I can do that. . . . But I might need help walking to the helicopter," he admitted, looking sheepish.
"No problem," Scott smiled back.
Then his eyes widened, the memory of something Caelius had said returning to him. "Hey," he said, "Caelius said something about the people in the other cabins being killed tonight too."
Elliott stiffened. "That's right," he said. "I remember that!"
Sean stared at them. "Just a minute," he said. "I'm going to run out and make sure the other agents are checking the cabins." Without waiting for a reply he hurried off, running back up the corridors to the front doors. Who was in the cabins? Other people who had rebelled at earlier times? Maybe even . . .
He threw open one of the doors, leaning into the night. ACME agents were everywhere on the grounds. Some had, indeed, started searching the other cabins. As Sean watched, they helped weakened people through the doors and to the helicopters.
"Hey!" he called to the nearest agent. "Need a hand?"
"We've got it covered," the other agent returned. "These people were being starved to try to force them into being loyal to the cult."
Sean's lip curled in revulsion. "Did they try to blow the whistle?" he asked.
A nod. "Pretty much. They were being given a chance to 'repent' of their 'sins'." The agent vanished into the helicopter with the person he was assisting.
Sean slumped back, closing the door. That was just disgusting. But at the same time, joy and relief were sweeping over him. These people would be able to have the chance to get better and keep living.
He turned, heading back to the room by the dining hall.
When he arrived, Scott was still trying to unwind the stubborn toga. He looked up, hope in his eyes. "Well?"
"There were people there, alright," Sean said. "Being starved. But they're still alive. They're the ones who tried to communicate and tell about the cult."
"Starved?!" Elliott cried in horror from the bed.
Barry did not speak, but his expression said it all.
Sean nodded. "Crazy guy," he muttered.
Scott swallowed hard, looking back to the task at hand as he fumbled with the folds of cloth. At last the toga came undone, falling around his ankles. He stepped out of it in disgust, leaving it on the floor as he grabbed his trousers.
"It's going to be incredible to get home," he said, deciding a change of subject was in order.
Elliott pulled out some clothes from the suitcase and sat up, slipping out of the much-too-big robe. "This has to be one of the longest days we've ever spent," he agreed. Placing the clothes on the bed, he swung his legs over the edge and pushed himself up, balancing himself against the side until it felt safe to let go.
Sean had gone back to the doorway. Now he leaned against it, crossing his arms. "'Long' is an understatement," he said. "And we all have a lot of blanks to fill in."
"Yeah, like where you and Barry were all that time!" Scott exclaimed. "Prosperus tried to get me to join his movement! He said you two had already joined to save El!"
Sean stared at him. "We never even talked to the guy," he said.
Now Scott was buttoning his shirt. He sighed, shaking his head. "I figured as much."
"We were just wandering through a replica of the house," Barry grunted.
Elliott, struggling to get into his pants, nearly took a tumble at the statement. "Huh?!" he gasped.
"These weirdos built an exact copy of all the rooms at the back of the house!" Sean said. "The meditation room leads to it."
". . . That's just bizarre," Scott frowned.
"To say the least," Sean said.
By now Elliott had somehow managed to get into his trousers without falling. But his knees were knocking. He sank onto the bed, breathing a sigh of relief as he pulled on an undershirt. Then he reached for a dark red dress shirt, but instead of putting it on, he sank back into the mattress. Getting dressed took so much effort. He was so tired. . . . And everything hurt so badly. . . .
Scott looked to him, worried. "Hey, El, we could stay here tonight," he said. "You really need to rest."
But Elliott stiffened at the thought. "No!" he exclaimed. "I wouldn't sleep a wink in this place. The helicopter's outside, waiting for us. Please . . . let's just go home." He sat up again, looking over at Scott.
At last the blond nodded. It really would be better, for all of them.
Elliott slid his arms into the familiar shirt before moving to button it. "I don't think I'll bother with a vest," he mumbled as he finished. "Not right now."
"Yeah," Sean agreed, standing by to help as Elliott struggled to get to his feet, "let's just skedaddle."
Scott buttoned his own vest and plopped his hat on his head. But then he crossed back to the bed, holding out his coat. "Here, El," he said. "You take it tonight."
Elliott blinked. "You need it, Scott," he said. "You must've been really cold in that toga. . . ."
"I'm okay," Scott smiled. "You're the one who got beat up, El. You need the coat more than I do." He placed it around Elliott's shoulders.
Finally Elliott nodded. "Thank you," he said, drawing his arms into the sleeves. He smiled weakly at Scott.
Barry and Sean picked up the luggage again. "And we are out of here!" Sean exclaimed. "Good riddance!"
Scott chuckled, lifting Elliott into his arms for the trip to the helicopter. The friends left the room without so much as a backwards glance, beginning their journey back up the corridor
Sean paused at the room where Elliott had been held captive. "Just a second," he called. Then he went inside, returning with Elliott's hat. "Here you go," he said, plopping it on Elliott's head. "For some reason they didn't tear it up."
"Probably only because they couldn't," Elliott said wearily, slumping against Scott.
****
Soon the quartet was boarding the helicopter that would take them back to ACME. The cult members had been arrested and were in the other helicopters, but the innocent retreaters and the starving whistle-blowers were traveling with Rockapella. There was, however, one dark-robed person in their party.
Sean blinked, following behind Scott as he and Barry climbed aboard. "Who's that?" he wondered. "Shouldn't he be in chains like the rest?"
Barry shook his head. "He's the other infiltrator-Alister," he said. "One of the people we were supposed to find."
Sean's eyes widened. "No kidding."
Elliott looked over at him. "He's the one who cut me free so I could help you," he said to Scott.
Scott shuddered. Elliott could have been hurt far worse if he had not been freed. He crossed the large interior to one of the vacant, plush bench seats and laid Elliot down on his side. "Thank you for helping him," he said to the stranger as he sat down next to Elliott. Sean and Barry got onto the bench behind their friends.
The mysterious man looked up. "He needed it," he said. "All of you did." He slid out of the robe, depositing it on the floor. "I've had enough of that thing." He ran a hand through his short red hair, making certain the styling had stayed in place. It was, indeed, very flipped.
Scott blinked. "Hey, you're the one who started that commotion back there, aren't you?" he realized. "The one who asked if the girl was the only one who had a conscience."
Alister nodded. "It kind of had the effect I wanted. I was hoping there were others as angry as I was. But I was also hoping it would stall for time, which it didn't."
"I'm sure it helped anyway," Scott said. "Those people were definitely an asset during that fight!"
"Your friends will be relieved you're safe," Barry said. "They asked us to find you."
"They wanted to infiltrate themselves," Sean said. "But they couldn't since someone high up in the cult had already seen them."
The younger man frowned. "I didn't want to worry them," he said. "But this was something I had to do."
"So did you really know that creep?" Sean wanted to know.
"I'll be writing a report for the police and ACME. You can read it." The redhead turned away and crossed his arms, signaling the end of the conversation.
Sean frowned. "Sociable guy," he muttered. "He acts like he's the one giving orders. We should be lecturing him for not leaving this up to the professionals."
"I've had experience with cults," was the flat response.
"Oh, and that makes it hunky-dory," Sean returned. "Well, let me tell you, people shouldn't be playing vigilantes. This is dangerous work!"
"I know." Alister leaned back, looking unimpressed.
Barry just sighed. "Let it go for now, Sean," he said. This had the potential to become very ugly. And that was not what they needed right now.
Sean pushed his hat back, wanting the last word in their disagreement. "Well . . . I can't approve of you running around like that," he said. "But . . . I do have to thank you for helping Elliott."
"He needed it," Alister said.
Sean looked like he wanted to say something to that. But instead he closed his mouth and slumped into the seat.
Elliott lay on the other seat, his head on Scott's lap, as he glanced around the helicopter's interior. Cheryl was quiet, sitting by herself on the other side. She leaned forward, her long blonde hair falling around her shoulders. Then, realizing Elliott was watching her, she looked to him.
"I was so stupid," she berated. "I shouldn't have ever run away from home. And I really shouldn't have joined Master . . . I mean, Caelius's retreat. It sounded so good in the ads. . . ."
"Those kinds of places always do," Sean said.
She sighed. "But look what happened to you and your friends! I can't believe any civilized person could act like Caelius did with you."
"Me either," Scott muttered. He kept his arm protectively around Elliott as they prepared for lift-off.
". . . Why did you join?" Elliott asked.
She shrugged. "I don't know. . . . He promised things . . . good things. Stuff I wanted. I guess . . . I just wanted something real to believe in."
Elliott mulled over that. "Well," he said at last, "if you want something real to believe in, you could try God."
Cheryl blinked in surprise, but then nodded. "Yeah," she said. "Maybe I will." She smiled a bit at Elliott, who blushed. But then Elliott smiled too, relaxing on the seat.
The helicopter was taking off now. And it would not take too long to fly back to downtown Manhattan. They would be home soon, where the worst thing they would have to worry about was Mrs. Pumpkinclanger yelling.
And that was something to be grateful for.
He looked back up at Scott. "I'm so sorry you were put through this," he said, keeping his voice low. "I know you're still suffering because of what the ring made you do. . . ." He laid a hand on Scott's arm. "I wanted more than anything to be there for you. . . ."
Scott started, looking down at Elliott. ". . . I've been thinking about that all day," he confessed. "But more than that . . . I've been thinking about how horrible it was for you to see me hit by that car . . . and for that to be dragged through the mud by the rotten way Caelius was acting."
Elliott cringed at the memory of seeing Scott sprawled on a Los Angeles dock. "You couldn't help it," he said.
"I know," Scott admitted. "I . . . I tried to do everything I could to make sure that you didn't get hurt this time. . . . But those creeps already hurt you! And then you had to fight Caelius. . . ."
"I was glad to," Elliott said. "I kept him from killing you."
Sean leaned forward, crossing his arms on the top of the seat. "So how'd you get the conk on your head?" he asked.
". . . Caelius shoved me," Elliott said. "But when he did, he lost his own balance."
Sean snorted. "Poetic justice, I'd say."
Barry sighed, crossing his arms. "He'll probably be able to plead not guilty by reason of insanity," he said, "but who knows if he will. I doubt if his lawyer will be able to convince him."
"They'll probably have to try to determine his mental condition before the trial anyway, after the reports we and hopefully others will give," Elliott said.
"Well, whether he goes to prison or a mental hospital, I just hope he stays there," Scott said. "He shouldn't ever get out."
"No kidding. He's a danger to humanity!" Sean straightened up. "And now I'm wondering just how many people he and his cult really did kill . . . and what happened to the bodies."
Barry frowned. "Search-and-Rescuenet is probably going to be digging up the grounds," he said. "I'm hoping some of the cult members confess."
Alister glanced back at him. "I wasn't able to find out what happened to the bodies," he said. "Tonight was the first time one of those sacrifices happened when I was around."
"Pleasant," Sean muttered. He leaned back, a bitter lyric running through his mind. I put the garbage in your head, I'm a genuine one-of-a-kind. . . . He had the feeling that he would be writing many songs to get out his feelings about this misadventure. He knew exactly how confusing it could be to decide what was true and what was not, and spiritual deceivers were among the kinds of people that angered him the most. Particularly if they tried to hurt his friends.
But though Prosperus really was a fraud, Caelius had believed in what he had been doing. And considering that he really had seemed to have some kind of twisted foresight, perhaps the most disturbing question was, Who had put the garbage in Caelius's head?
Sean was not sure he even wanted to know.
On the seat on front of him, Scott gave a quiet, exhausted sigh. But a trace of a smile crossed his features when he looked down at Elliott. The brunet's eyes were closed, his breathing having evened out and deepened. He was asleep.
Yeah, that's it, El, Scott said in his mind, not daring to speak aloud for fear of waking his friend. Just sleep. You more than deserve it.
He leaned back against the seat, staring at the ceiling. Maybe the nightmares would still come, but for now Elliott's slumber was peaceful. And after all the times one or the other of them had been awakened by cruel dream-memories in the past weeks, a peaceful sleep was sorely needed.
Of course, Scott still felt horrible about both the ring and the car fiascos. Pushing El was something he could never take back. But he could at least be grateful that it had been entirely against his will. He would never hurt Elliott on purpose, just as he had told Caelius and Prosperus.
He hoped Elliott would not continue to blame himself for Scott being hit by a car. It was true, what Scott had said-Elliott had only had Scott's welfare at heart. The Pharaoh's adviser had known the car would come, but Elliott had not had any idea. And Scott could not stand to see Elliott believing that it was his fault. Caelius had rubbed salt into a gaping wound.
He looked back at Elliott. There was even a bruise on the back of his left hand. Scott stared at it. What had Elliott suffered during the time they had been separated? Scott doubted he would ever know. Elliott would not want him to know, if he could help it. He would gloss over the full extent of his injuries.
They would, and had, all done the same thing. None of them wanted the others to worry if they were hurt.
Elliott stirred, his eyes opening halfway. For a moment he looked around, clearly confused by their surroundings. Scott chuckled.
"We're still on the helicopter, El," he explained.
"Helicopter?" Elliott yawned. "Oh." He settled down again, falling silent.
". . . Scott?" he said at last.
Scott blinked. He had thought Elliott had fallen back to sleep. "Yeah?" he asked.
Elliott looked up at him. "I . . . I'll always be haunted by what happened in L.A.," he said, completely serious. "This crazy experience made me realize that all the more. But . . ." He gripped Scott's light-blue sleeve. "I guess it's ironic, all things considered, but Caelius made me realize something. For the first time, I can say that you being hit by the car was an accident . . . and really know that's the truth."
Scott stared at his best friend. For a moment he could not comprehend. Elliott had suffered so long with those agonizing feelings . . . ! But then he smiled, understanding fully dawning.
"I've waited to hear that," he said. "I was hoping it would come, when the time was right."
Elliott sat up, weakened and shaking but smiling back.
"I've been waiting to hear something too," he said.
Scott swallowed hard. He knew what Elliott meant. And could he say it? Could he say it and fully mean it?
. . . Yes, he could. He could because it was true.
He laid his hands gently on Elliott's shoulders. "I know you have," he said. "And . . ." He looked into his friend's eyes. "Me pushing you . . ." He trembled. "That . . . was an accident too." He had been reaching out to Elliott for help. It had been the ring that had caused him to push his friend.
Elliott nodded. "It was," he said, quietly but firmly. "I know it was." He reached out, pulling Scott into a hug despite his aching arms.
Scott's reply caught in his throat. Instead he held Elliott close, being mindful of the older man's injuries.
Behind them, Sean grinned. "Well, hallelujah!" he declared.
Barry smiled.
They had been waiting for this, too.
Finally, they were healing.