A Change in My Life, 7/?
Title: A Change in My Life, chapter seven
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Rating: T/PG-13
Word Count: 5,634
Main Characters: Fictional Rockapella
Supporting Characters: Double Trouble
Summary: Amid further friction in the group, they journey to see the delinquent students in hopes of gaining answers.
Will be posted to 10_hurt_comfort when complete.
Chapter Seven
Give Me Sunshine
Sean could not help but observe Scott and Elliott with a certain wistful, even slightly jealous, air as they embraced. To still determine that they were friends in spite of what they had remembered had to take a great deal of courage and faith. Sean was not sure he could feel the same way. He was far too practical and suspicious. And if he believed someone had hurt him, his instinct would be to stay away.
But of course he should not feel jealous. If they were really all friends, then they would remember in time and grow closer to each other. And meanwhile, he and Barry were already developing a rapport---or at least, he liked to think so, despite Barry's aloof nature.
He looked to the opera singer. "So . . . what do you think is the explanation for what they saw?" he asked.
Barry shook his head. "I have no idea," he said.
"And the thing about golden eyes. . . . Why would Scott's eyes have been gold?" Sean crossed his arms. "The weirdest thing is, when I think about what Elliott claimed happened, I keep imagining a ring."
"A ring," Barry repeated.
Sean nodded. "Just a simple, golden ring."
"Word association," Barry said. "'Gold' makes you think of rings."
"Maybe," Sean frowned. "I don't know. . . . It doesn't seem that simple."
Barry paused, mulling over both what Sean had said and what Elliott had said. Sean had a point. After all, nothing today had been simple. Why should it start now? On the other hand . . . maybe the answer was indeed simple---but not the way he had been envisioning.
"Maybe there was a ring," he said at last. "Maybe now you're starting to remember."
Sean blinked in surprise. "You really might have something there," he said. He had not even thought of that possibility. But if Elliott had remembered something real, and all of them had been present during the remembered event, it was only logical that he and Barry might remember it sometime.
Mr. Gordon, still observing everything, shook his head in disbelief. "I can hardly believe you're discussing any of this, Mr. C.," he said to Barry. "I was under the impression that you were a sensible man."
Barry regarded him with an unimpressed look. "Under the circumstances, this is sensible," he said. "Can you explain why every one of us, including your nephew, feels that he knows the others?"
Flustered, Mr. Gordon took a step back. "No, I can't," he admitted. "I wish I could." He shot a disapproving look at Jeff. "And I also wish my nephew would decide to not want any part of it."
Jeff glowered at him. "You're never satisfied with anything," he said. "Okay, so you were right to be upset about the gang. I'll admit it---they were rotten, just like you said. But these people are good. You should be happy that I'm interested in being around them!"
"I was, until they started talking nonsense," Mr. Gordon frowned. "Now I don't know what to think."
"You should know by now that Barry is a trustworthy guy!" Jeff shot back. "And he doesn't fall for scams easy. If he feels like he knows these people, maybe you should put a little more stock in it!"
Barry sighed. The new disagreement was already hurting his ears. "Don't waste your breath," he said. "If I wasn't remembering things, or at least feelings, I probably wouldn't believe it either. In fact, it's still hard to believe."
"I'm just sick of my uncle acting like this," Jeff growled, gripping his arms. "He's just always looking for some way to make me look bad."
"That isn't true!" Now Mr. Gordon was angry. He stepped forward, reaching to grip Jeff's arms. "You take that back!"
Jeff flung his arms out, pushing the older man away. "Just stay away from me!" he yelled. "I'll say what I want. I don't need you! And you don't need me, either! If you did, you wouldn't always be looking down your nose at me and ragging on me and trying to change me! You just want to make me over in your image!"
Mr. Gordon fell back again, stunned by the outburst. For a moment he stood stock-still, unable to think. But suddenly his heart twisted. "Jeff," he rasped, "I . . . it's for your own good. . . ."
"Oh, good one, Unc," Jeff snorted. "Making me feel like garbage is for my own good. Thanks. You'd really win the Caring Family Member of the Year award." With that he whirled, storming past the group and into the adjoining bedroom. The sound of the door slamming sent vibrations through the walls and floor, briefly rattling the pictures and vases.
At last Sean snapped out of his stupor. "You realize he just went into your bedroom," he said, looking to Scott.
The blond sighed, shaking his head. "He's upset," he said. "I'll cut him some slack."
Mr. Gordon placed a hand over his face. "Maybe that's what I should have done long ago," he muttered.
"It probably would've helped," Sean said. "When we met Jeff at the college, he didn't come off like a bad guy."
"He isn't," Mr. Gordon said, removing his hand to look at Sean. "He's a good kid. Once upon a time we were close, when he was a lot younger . . . but those days are long past. I just don't know what to do with him now."
Barry sighed. "You can't constantly criticize him," he said. "You have to accept him as he is, even if it's hard for you. The more he feels alienated, the less willing he'll be to listen to you."
Sean nodded. "He isn't doing anything wrong," he said. "But from what he said, he thinks you think he robbed a store or something. Not that it's any of our business," he hastened to add, "but when you keep fighting right in front of us, something's got to give."
"I should have exercised more restraint," Mr. Gordon said. "It was very unprofessional of me." He turned, looking to the closed bedroom door. "As for the convenience store robbery . . . yes, I have been concerned that he was involved."
"Even though he said he wasn't?" Sean said. "You think he lied to you?"
"I don't know any more," Mr. Gordon growled. "I always hoped he was telling the truth."
"Just hoped," Sean said. "You didn't believe or know it?"
Now Mr. Gordon gave Sean a patronizing look. "You were right that it isn't your business, Mr. A.," he said.
"You make it my business when you air your dirty laundry in public," Sean smirked.
Mr. Gordon's expression turned to exasperation. "Mr. C. said the same thing once, though he said it with more eloquence," he said.
"Apparently eloquence didn't get the job done," Sean returned.
"What job?" Barry asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Making him listen," Sean said.
"The only thing you're doing is making him angry," Barry said.
"Well, I'm not feeling too grand myself right now," Sean replied, smiling all the while. "I've only known the guy for a couple of hours, and already he and his nephew have gotten into two big fights."
"It isn't usually like this," Mr. Gordon said, his tone clipped.
"In that case, I'm sorry we caught you on a bad day," Sean said. "Maybe we ought to go see about talking to those twerps."
Scott blinked in confusion. "What twerps?"
"It's a long story," Elliott sighed. "But he means the ones in my class I told you about. They left messages to both me and Barry about knowing who we are. At least, we figure it's them," he added. "And we decided we'd go talk to them after coming here to see you."
Scott's eyes lit up with determination. "Then I'm coming too," he said. "I want to get to the bottom of this. If they say they've got answers, then we should find out whether it's really true."
"And I guess we can't leave Jeff here," Sean said.
Scott nodded, turning to look at the bedroom door. "I'll talk to him," he said. "After all, he is in my room." But he looked back to the others. "It might be better if we had some privacy. . . ."
"We'll wait by the front door," Elliott said hurriedly.
Scott smiled gratefully as Elliott led the others away. Then he crossed the floor, reaching to knock on the door as he arrived. "Jeff?" He fell silent, waiting for an answer.
The door cracked open as an eye peered out. "Yeah?"
"We're going to talk to a couple of guys who might have left some weird notes Elliott was telling me about," Scott said.
Jeff opened the door the rest of the way and stepped into the main room. "I'll come then," he said, sounding so tired and discouraged. "Sorry I went in there." And he was, too. He did not invade people's privacy like that. But he had just been so angry and frustrated. After the confrontation between him and his uncle, he had not even wanted to be in the same room.
"It's okay," Scott said with a wan smile. "You and your uncle both needed a chance to calm down."
"I guess we did." Jeff ran a hand through his bangs. "It's been kind of a rough day. More like a rough year," he amended.
Scott nodded. "I'm sorry," he said.
Jeff shrugged and crossed his arms. "I've tried to get used to it," he said. "Sometimes I realize I haven't."
"Nobody should have such a rocky time with their family," Scott replied. He had never had the deep friendships he had longed for; the only friend he had grown somewhat close to had drifted apart from him, eventually joining some detective agency. But throughout all the heartache and sorrow, there had been a constant in his life---he got along with his own family very well. They had been a rock, a pillar for him. It always pained him when he saw those who did not have that same happiness. Without close family or friends, Scott felt that Jeff had a far worse situation than he himself.
"I probably brought it on myself," Jeff told him. "I didn't listen to my parents or my uncle when they warned me. Instead I joined up with that gang. My uncle never forgave me for that." He sighed, suddenly looking so weary. "He'll never trust me again."
Scott was stunned. "Don't say that," he exclaimed. "Maybe if you could just have a calm talk with him. . . ."
Jeff snorted. "Every time we try, one of us says something that sets off the other," he said. "He ticked me off today and it's kept getting worse."
Scott did not know what to say. At last he simply laid his hand on Jeff's shoulder. "Don't give up," he said quietly.
Jeff managed a smile. "I try," he said. "I want to be close to him again, like when I was a kid and I'd be all excited to help him in his office. . . . I even used to want to be a detective like him. I thought he was just the greatest---looking for the bad guys and clapping them in jail. . . ." His expression changed to derision. "I was so naive! . . ."
Scott searched the boy's expression. Through the self-depreciating smirk, there was so much pain.
"Detectives are just human too," he said then.
Jeff's look turned to annoyance. "I know that," he said. "That's why I'm not interested in being one anymore. I just keep thinking. . . ." His voice dropped. "What if I'd make a horrible mistake? What if I'd send an innocent person to jail or even prison? They'd always have to live with the scar of being convicted. And I couldn't live with myself if that happened."
A wan smile passed over Scott's features. "You should tell your uncle how you feel," he said.
Jeff merely shrugged. "Maybe if he'd stop calling me a hoodlum every time I turn around," he said. "Why would I want to bear my soul to someone who just thinks I'm a crook? He thinks I don't want to be a detective because I want to be on the other side of the law, or at least because I want to ride dangerously on the edge. I know he does."
For a moment Scott was silent. Then he said, "There could be misunderstandings on both sides."
"I guess," Jeff said. "But I wouldn't bank on it."
He shook his head and turned, his visage hardening again. "Nevermind. I sound like a sentimental idiot. We'd better catch up to the others; maybe Unc thinks I'm beating you up." With that he walked past, heading to where everyone else had gathered by the door.
Scott sighed as he moved to follow. ". . . I wonder how you and your uncle got along in the life we don't remember," he said, still quiet.
Jeff paused. "I wonder too," he admitted. "With our luck, it was worse than this." He walked on, his bangs swinging with the motion.
Scott frowned, thinking on this as he walked behind. ". . . Maybe it was better," he said at last, slightly louder.
This time Jeff did not stop.
****
Double Trouble lived in an apartment building near a bad side of town. As they pulled up in front, Sean shook his head in disbelief at the old brick walls and the peeling paint of the upstairs balconies. Both the sidewalk and the front steps were filled with cracks and weeds, while some ivy had managed to start growing on the walls. Even a couple of windows were covered by the leafy plant.
"It looks like my place," he said, "and I sure as heck can't afford college classes. Where do they get their money?!"
Elliott sighed, looking to Sean through the open windows of their cars. "They got in on a scholarship," he said, "but the fact that they just don't seem interested really bugs me. There's lots of kids who could really use a scholarship and don't have one."
"No kidding," Sean said, as he opened the car door and climbed out. "They probably got my scholarship!"
Elliott parked just ahead of Barry's car and exited as well. Behind him, he could hear Scott getting out the passenger door and walking over to him. Soon the blond was coming alongside.
"It's been a long time since I've been in a place like this," he commented as they and the others climbed the steps.
Barry grunted in agreement.
Elliott reached to haul open the heavy door, holding it open for his companions as he walked into the lobby. Scott ran his hand over the glass as he entered, followed by Sean, Barry, Jeff, and Mr. Gordon. Their footsteps were muffled by the stained carpet in the dimly-lit hall. Behind them, the door swung shut with a firm and final click, sealing their fates.
Elliott headed for the stairs, paying no attention to the heavily-squeaking steps as he ascended.
Sean intoned, "And now, the latest concerto by the Ten Blind Stairs."
Elliott blinked. "Ten Blind . . ." Then the joke registered. And he could not help himself; he laughed, the sound echoing up and down the hall as he arrived at the second floor's landing.
Sean smirked. "Getting someone to crack up is a personal triumph," he said to Barry, who was raising an eyebrow.
"Then I guess you think you'd win a gold medal if you succeeded with me," the older man said.
"You should laugh more," Sean replied. "It's good for the soul."
"I laugh," Barry said, keeping a straight face. "I laugh without opening my mouth."
"No one knows you're doing it!" Sean retorted.
"Exactly," Barry grunted.
Elliott snickered, shaking his head as he tried to calm himself. Taking a deep breath, he turned to face the correct apartment door. He raised a fist, knocking on the hard wood. The sound echoed, then faded into the surrounding walls.
Sean's hands went to his hips. "They're not coming," he said.
As if on cue the door opened, revealing one of the two twins. He peered at Elliott through his ever-present sunglasses, a smug smirk stretching his lips. "So," he jeered, "you're here. We were wondering how long it was gonna take before you'd figure things out."
"Are you Double or Trouble?" Sean asked, coming up behind Elliott.
The delinquent ignored the query, instead studying the other members of the group as they approached. The second brother came to the door behind him, also looking at everyone.
"You've already got together," he said. "Does that mean we're gonna get out of this joint soon?"
Elliott frowned at them both. "You do know who we are," he said. "How long have you been laughing at me because I don't remember?"
"It's a pretty long story to be rehearsing out here," replied one twin. "Come on inside and we'll talk about it."
Elliott gave a single nod. With that he marched inside, the others following behind. Once Mr. Gordon was over the threshold, the door was shut behind them---leaving them in the sparsely furnished living room.
Sean glanced around at the threadbare couch and chairs. "This looks like my place from the inside, too," he said.
"And we shouldn't be rockin' this party," said one brother as he walked around the rickety table. "We don't even know how we got here. We just woke up one day and we were in your Physics class." He looked to Elliott.
"We didn't remember at first," said the second, "but somethin' just didn't seem right. And then we heard about you in the opera." He nodded to Barry.
"It all started comin' back---ACME, V.I.L.E., you detective party-crashers. . . . But you guys didn't remember at all!" The first twin glared at them, as if somehow it was their fault.
"So we figured we'd start leavin' messages, hopin' it'd get you interested," said the second.
Scott barely heard this statement. He had gone pale. "ACME," he whispered. The same agency his friend had joined. . . . Was it possible that they were all supposed to be there? If they were detectives like Greg, maybe they all worked together.
Barry crossed his arms. "Supposing it's true, why would you want us to remember?" he said. "You called us detectives. And you don't entirely seem like you're on the right side of the law." He looked from one to the other. "I could easily imagine us on opposite sides of the conflict."
"You're right," said the first twin.
"But see, we wanna get home," said the second. "We had it a lot better there, in spite of you guys. And since you're always getting into weird stuff, we figure we got dragged into some mess of yours."
"So if you remember, maybe you can figure out how to change things back," said the first.
Sean shook his head. "Well, I'm drawing a blank," he said, holding out his hands in front of him.
"Same here," Scott said. He narrowed his eyes. "How do we know this didn't happen because of some scheme of yours?"
"Oh, touchy," taunted the second. "We don't RSVP to parties like this."
"I don't care. I think you're trying to trick us," Scott retorted.
Mr. Gordon stepped forward. "I know you must be!" he growled, looking to each twin in turn. "Everything you've said is preposterous! What are you insinuating---that all of us have been thrown into an alternate universe vastly different from our own world?"
"That's exactly right, Pops," said the first. "Or somethin' like that."
"And it makes sense with what all of us have been feeling!" Jeff exclaimed. "Come on, Unc, can't you see what's going on here?!" He moved to stand in front of his uncle, frustration obvious in his eyes.
Mr. Gordon glowered at him. "I can see you're siding with these hoodlums," he said.
Jeff blew out his breath in exasperation. "What they're saying is logical!" he cried. "You always say to examine all the facts and then piece together the truth!"
"I doubt that they would even say anything true!" Mr. Gordon growled. "Just like in the past, you're allowing yourself to be taken in by criminals because you want so badly to believe that you belong with these . . . these . . ."
"Shut up!"
The room fell silent. All eyes turned to stare at the seething Jeff, who was shooting daggers at Mr. Gordon with his own eyes. Mr. Gordon gawked, devoid of speech. Before he could regain his mind, Jeff hurried on, at his patience's end.
"This isn't about me!" he screamed. "I'm only listening to them because they're saying the same kind of stuff that these other, law-abiding people are. Why does everything always have to be me making an awful decision? Do you really think I can't ever figure things out on my own, because of the mistake in my past? I guess you never made a bad choice before."
Mr. Gordon shook himself out of his trance. "Jeff . . ."
But the teen rushed right on, not about to give him a chance to scold further. "I guess you also never had people breathing down your neck, wondering what move you made would land you in the pen. It wouldn't be a question of if, after all---it'd just be when. And you've never had people wondering how bad it's going to make the family look! That's what it all comes down to---not me, not 'my own good', just how bad the gossip is!
"Don't you think I already know I've shamed the family?! If it'll give you some kind of satisfaction, yeah, I kick myself every day for that big screw-up. I wish it'd never happened. I'd give just about anything to go back to the past and make myself not join that gang.
"But since it did happen, and since everyone's against me, maybe I should've just been sent to military school. It couldn't possibly be worse than this! I'd rather have some strange guy barking at me all day instead of having my uncle condemning me every day in his heart."
He took a deep breath, fighting to get himself under control. The memories were flashing through his mind, painful and agonizing. . . . Not heeding his family's warnings . . . joining the gang . . . being betrayed by them. . . . Waiting in jail for someone to come bail him out, surrounded by jeers and taunts and cruel laughter. . . . His uncle's accusing eyes when he finally had come. . . . The wall that had come between them. . . . Always knowing that he had been all but disowned by his mother's brother, someone he had once idolized with childlike idealism. . . .
I betrayed him, he knew in his heart. I betrayed him and I can never have his approval or his love again. And no matter how he screamed and yelled, he also knew that he deserved every bit of what had fallen upon him. He was reaping the lasting consequences of his actions. At the very time when he had needed his uncle more than anything, he had not had him. He had not, because he had sealed his own fate. What he had done by not listening to Mr. Gordon had turned the man against him---and rightly so, he thought with bitterness. He had no right to long for something he had lost on his own. He had chosen the gang over his family.
Maybe, once he was of age, he would move away. He would not shame his uncle any more if his whereabouts were unknown. He would soon be forgotten by the neighbors and the gossip would die down. His uncle would be happy then.
"You're not clearly seeing what's going on here," he said now, speaking in a calmer voice. "You think everybody's lying or crazy and I can't figure out why you're so adament about it. Did you have too many people lie to you in your lifetime? Well, I'm sorry if that's true. But what if, just what if, everything here is true?! What if we know these people? What if we really would know how to get home if we just stopped to think and tried to remember?"
His shoulders slumped, his aggravation fully giving way to the true weariness underneath. "What if . . . we don't have so much trouble getting along in the place where we belong?" His voice cracked as he looked at his stunned uncle. "What if in this other world, I never joined that gang? Or . . . what if you forgave me even if I did?
"Maybe I am grasping at straws. Maybe I'm being taken in by liars again. But . . . if this place is real . . . and it's like that . . . I don't know what I wouldn't give to find it." He looked away, falling silent.
Everyone looked from him to his uncle, questions in their eyes. All but Scott were stunned.
". . . They've got issues," one twin sneered, his uncaring voice cutting through the stillness of the room.
Mr. Gordon turned to glare at him. "Shut up," he said, echoing his nephew's words.
Jeff looked to him, disbelief and confusion in his eyes. His uncle never spoke colloquially, and certainly not with such rude statements. The look in Mr. Gordon's eyes said the unimaginable---that something in Jeff's words had reached his heart.
"We'll talk about this later," he said at last.
Jeff gave a numb nod.
Scott sighed. He had expected Jeff to completely snap, though he never could have predicted the circumstances. He was stunned by what Double Trouble had told. And he could not help himself from feeling upset that they had regained their knowledge of the truth, while he and the others were mostly in the dark. Why?
He looked from one twin to the other. They had a close bond. Could that be why their memories had been restored? They had not been separated in this world, at least not according to them. By contrast, he and the others had all been apart. That could very well have kept their memories from coming to light. As soon as he had reunited with Elliott, something had tugged at his soul. Maybe if they had been together from the beginning, they would recall everything by now.
"I don't know how to help you," he said then, deciding that the best thing to do was to ignore Jeff's outburst. "None of us do. We're still trying to figure out ourselves what could've happened."
"And being around each other brings back more memories than your crazy notes did," Sean said. "If everything comes back to us, we'll take a message and get back to you."
The twins did not look impressed. "Remember by the time we come to class," said one, pointing at Elliott. "We're sick of this jamboree."
"At least there's no zombies," Sean smirked.
Elliott looked at the twins steadily. "If I could tell myself to remember and it would happen, I would've done it ages ago," he said. "You're going to have to be patient."
"What do you think we've been trying to do for the last age?" the second twin retorted.
"Patience is a virtue," Sean said, his tone light. "Maybe it'll work for us, too. If we're patient, it'll all come back to us. Eventually.
"But as long as you know so much about this other life of ours, how about enlightening us?" he continued. "The more you tell us, the more we might remember."
"That could be considered the power of suggestion," Barry said.
"It's worth a try, anyway, isn't it?" Sean said with a shrug.
The twins seemed pleased. "Well, gather around and we'll tell you a story," said one.
"Of a three-hour cruise," Sean sang under his breath.
Not having expected the quip, Elliott laughed.
For the next hour, Double Trouble explained everything they could. They told of ACME, where Sean, Scott, Elliott, and Barry did indeed work with Greg. They recounted stories of crime boss Carmen Sandiego and her organization V.I.L.E., to which they belonged. And they related what they knew of Aaron Gordon, P.I. and his assistant Jeff---which was not much. But it was enough to send the boy through the ceiling.
"I'm a detective?!" Jeff burst out. "No way. I made a vow to never be a law-enforcement officer, after the way they treated me. And are still treating me," he could not refrain from adding.
Mr. Gordon's expression hardened.
One of the twins gave a dismissive shrug. "You had some idea about making sure innocent people weren't arrested any more," he said in an almost jeering tone. "The thing with the gang happened in the main world, too."
Jeff stared at him, shocked beyond belief. ". . . And my uncle forgave me?" he asked.
"I guess you'd have to ask him that," the second twin replied.
Scott looked to both Jeff and Mr. Gordon. Sensing a change of subject was in order, and honestly wanting to talk about this strange twist, he said, "Can you believe it? All of us are detectives!" He turned to look at Elliott, then Sean and Barry. "And we're working with Greg. . . ."
"Who's Greg, anyway?" Sean spoke.
Before Scott could reply, Barry said, "I think I know who he is." He sighed, leaning back on the creaking couch. "My aunt's always complaining about all the noise at his detective agency."
Sean blinked. "Oh yeah? She sounds like the old bat who was snapping at me earlier today . . ." But as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he let the sentence trail off into oblivion. Great going, Sean, he scolded himself. He never had found out more than a vague answer to his question about why Barry had been driving down that particular street today. Barry had seemed to have a purpose to the act, rather than just randomly driving through the city. And from the black look Sean was getting now, he had the sinking feeling that he had just put the pieces together---several seconds after sticking his foot in his mouth once again.
". . . That was your aunt, right?" he said now, his normally boistrous voice quiet and sheepish.
Barry gave a single nod. "The detective agency is across the alley, behind the apartment building," he said.
Scott gawked at them both. "That's a bizarre coincidence too," he said. "Or not. . . ."
"What? That I picked the street corner where Barry would show up because of his aunt?" Sean said. "Ordinarily I'd say it was a complete coincidence and brush it off, but so many 'coincidences' have been going on that my sense of logic is bruised, battered, and all but totaled.
"Anyway . . ." He sighed, leaning on the arm of the couch. "You didn't say who Greg is."
Scott looked away. "We were friends, when we were kids," he said. "But we drifted apart." He shrugged. "Just one of those things, I guess."
Elliott laid a hand on his shoulder. ". . . If we're supposed to work with him, maybe we should go talk to him," he suggested. "It might help all of us." But then he shifted, hesitant and uncomfortable with having brought up the idea. Maybe Scott would not feel like doing that. He might prefer to stay away if things were not good between them.
But what was he thinking? The same thing could apply to Scott and Greg that applied to Jeff and Mr. Gordon. If Scott and Greg had not drifted apart in the world they really belonged in, then they owed it to their friendship to meet again and try to remember.
Scott seemed to be having similar thoughts. He looked up with a surprised blink. "You're right," he said. "We should do that!"
"And since you know the location of the agency, you can lead the way," Sean said to Barry in a grand tone.
The twins stood. "We're comin' with you, like it or not," said the first. "We wanna be right there if you start remembering. If we let you get away, we might have a hard time finding you again."
"Ah, self-preservation," Sean said, his hands going to his hips. "Well, I can't say I'm thrilled about it, but if you're that determined to come along, you might as well knock yourselves out."
Barry grunted, not particularly liking the idea of the delinquents riding in his car. Yet on the other hand, he supposed they would not cause any damage, if their goals were currently the same as his and the others'.
"Maybe someone should leave his car here," Sean mused. "We could probably all fit in two cars."
Mr. Gordon grumbled, not particularly wanting to be the one to volunteer to leave his vehicle. Part of him still really wanted to order Jeff to leave with him and forget all of this. Jeff was a minor; his uncle could do that. At the same time, he realized it would alienate Jeff even further. And the boy's plaintive words were still in his ears and his mind. Jeff longed to know if there was a better existence for them. It sounded like a foolish dream---but it was one Mr. Gordon wanted, too. For those reasons, he would humor Jeff a while longer.
The spirit crossed his arms, utter disgust and repulsion in his eyes as their plans continued to formulate. Such friendship, such love, such brotherhood---all where he had tried to destroy it! The only lasting tension he had succeeded in causing was between that boy and his uncle---and they were expendable. His lip curled in contempt.
"If I can't break you one way, I'll break you another," he vowed. "I will take away what's most precious to you."
He followed them out of the apartment, his eyes boring into the back of Elliott's head.
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Rating: T/PG-13
Word Count: 5,634
Main Characters: Fictional Rockapella
Supporting Characters: Double Trouble
Summary: Amid further friction in the group, they journey to see the delinquent students in hopes of gaining answers.
Will be posted to 10_hurt_comfort when complete.
Chapter Seven
Give Me Sunshine
Sean could not help but observe Scott and Elliott with a certain wistful, even slightly jealous, air as they embraced. To still determine that they were friends in spite of what they had remembered had to take a great deal of courage and faith. Sean was not sure he could feel the same way. He was far too practical and suspicious. And if he believed someone had hurt him, his instinct would be to stay away.
But of course he should not feel jealous. If they were really all friends, then they would remember in time and grow closer to each other. And meanwhile, he and Barry were already developing a rapport---or at least, he liked to think so, despite Barry's aloof nature.
He looked to the opera singer. "So . . . what do you think is the explanation for what they saw?" he asked.
Barry shook his head. "I have no idea," he said.
"And the thing about golden eyes. . . . Why would Scott's eyes have been gold?" Sean crossed his arms. "The weirdest thing is, when I think about what Elliott claimed happened, I keep imagining a ring."
"A ring," Barry repeated.
Sean nodded. "Just a simple, golden ring."
"Word association," Barry said. "'Gold' makes you think of rings."
"Maybe," Sean frowned. "I don't know. . . . It doesn't seem that simple."
Barry paused, mulling over both what Sean had said and what Elliott had said. Sean had a point. After all, nothing today had been simple. Why should it start now? On the other hand . . . maybe the answer was indeed simple---but not the way he had been envisioning.
"Maybe there was a ring," he said at last. "Maybe now you're starting to remember."
Sean blinked in surprise. "You really might have something there," he said. He had not even thought of that possibility. But if Elliott had remembered something real, and all of them had been present during the remembered event, it was only logical that he and Barry might remember it sometime.
Mr. Gordon, still observing everything, shook his head in disbelief. "I can hardly believe you're discussing any of this, Mr. C.," he said to Barry. "I was under the impression that you were a sensible man."
Barry regarded him with an unimpressed look. "Under the circumstances, this is sensible," he said. "Can you explain why every one of us, including your nephew, feels that he knows the others?"
Flustered, Mr. Gordon took a step back. "No, I can't," he admitted. "I wish I could." He shot a disapproving look at Jeff. "And I also wish my nephew would decide to not want any part of it."
Jeff glowered at him. "You're never satisfied with anything," he said. "Okay, so you were right to be upset about the gang. I'll admit it---they were rotten, just like you said. But these people are good. You should be happy that I'm interested in being around them!"
"I was, until they started talking nonsense," Mr. Gordon frowned. "Now I don't know what to think."
"You should know by now that Barry is a trustworthy guy!" Jeff shot back. "And he doesn't fall for scams easy. If he feels like he knows these people, maybe you should put a little more stock in it!"
Barry sighed. The new disagreement was already hurting his ears. "Don't waste your breath," he said. "If I wasn't remembering things, or at least feelings, I probably wouldn't believe it either. In fact, it's still hard to believe."
"I'm just sick of my uncle acting like this," Jeff growled, gripping his arms. "He's just always looking for some way to make me look bad."
"That isn't true!" Now Mr. Gordon was angry. He stepped forward, reaching to grip Jeff's arms. "You take that back!"
Jeff flung his arms out, pushing the older man away. "Just stay away from me!" he yelled. "I'll say what I want. I don't need you! And you don't need me, either! If you did, you wouldn't always be looking down your nose at me and ragging on me and trying to change me! You just want to make me over in your image!"
Mr. Gordon fell back again, stunned by the outburst. For a moment he stood stock-still, unable to think. But suddenly his heart twisted. "Jeff," he rasped, "I . . . it's for your own good. . . ."
"Oh, good one, Unc," Jeff snorted. "Making me feel like garbage is for my own good. Thanks. You'd really win the Caring Family Member of the Year award." With that he whirled, storming past the group and into the adjoining bedroom. The sound of the door slamming sent vibrations through the walls and floor, briefly rattling the pictures and vases.
At last Sean snapped out of his stupor. "You realize he just went into your bedroom," he said, looking to Scott.
The blond sighed, shaking his head. "He's upset," he said. "I'll cut him some slack."
Mr. Gordon placed a hand over his face. "Maybe that's what I should have done long ago," he muttered.
"It probably would've helped," Sean said. "When we met Jeff at the college, he didn't come off like a bad guy."
"He isn't," Mr. Gordon said, removing his hand to look at Sean. "He's a good kid. Once upon a time we were close, when he was a lot younger . . . but those days are long past. I just don't know what to do with him now."
Barry sighed. "You can't constantly criticize him," he said. "You have to accept him as he is, even if it's hard for you. The more he feels alienated, the less willing he'll be to listen to you."
Sean nodded. "He isn't doing anything wrong," he said. "But from what he said, he thinks you think he robbed a store or something. Not that it's any of our business," he hastened to add, "but when you keep fighting right in front of us, something's got to give."
"I should have exercised more restraint," Mr. Gordon said. "It was very unprofessional of me." He turned, looking to the closed bedroom door. "As for the convenience store robbery . . . yes, I have been concerned that he was involved."
"Even though he said he wasn't?" Sean said. "You think he lied to you?"
"I don't know any more," Mr. Gordon growled. "I always hoped he was telling the truth."
"Just hoped," Sean said. "You didn't believe or know it?"
Now Mr. Gordon gave Sean a patronizing look. "You were right that it isn't your business, Mr. A.," he said.
"You make it my business when you air your dirty laundry in public," Sean smirked.
Mr. Gordon's expression turned to exasperation. "Mr. C. said the same thing once, though he said it with more eloquence," he said.
"Apparently eloquence didn't get the job done," Sean returned.
"What job?" Barry asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Making him listen," Sean said.
"The only thing you're doing is making him angry," Barry said.
"Well, I'm not feeling too grand myself right now," Sean replied, smiling all the while. "I've only known the guy for a couple of hours, and already he and his nephew have gotten into two big fights."
"It isn't usually like this," Mr. Gordon said, his tone clipped.
"In that case, I'm sorry we caught you on a bad day," Sean said. "Maybe we ought to go see about talking to those twerps."
Scott blinked in confusion. "What twerps?"
"It's a long story," Elliott sighed. "But he means the ones in my class I told you about. They left messages to both me and Barry about knowing who we are. At least, we figure it's them," he added. "And we decided we'd go talk to them after coming here to see you."
Scott's eyes lit up with determination. "Then I'm coming too," he said. "I want to get to the bottom of this. If they say they've got answers, then we should find out whether it's really true."
"And I guess we can't leave Jeff here," Sean said.
Scott nodded, turning to look at the bedroom door. "I'll talk to him," he said. "After all, he is in my room." But he looked back to the others. "It might be better if we had some privacy. . . ."
"We'll wait by the front door," Elliott said hurriedly.
Scott smiled gratefully as Elliott led the others away. Then he crossed the floor, reaching to knock on the door as he arrived. "Jeff?" He fell silent, waiting for an answer.
The door cracked open as an eye peered out. "Yeah?"
"We're going to talk to a couple of guys who might have left some weird notes Elliott was telling me about," Scott said.
Jeff opened the door the rest of the way and stepped into the main room. "I'll come then," he said, sounding so tired and discouraged. "Sorry I went in there." And he was, too. He did not invade people's privacy like that. But he had just been so angry and frustrated. After the confrontation between him and his uncle, he had not even wanted to be in the same room.
"It's okay," Scott said with a wan smile. "You and your uncle both needed a chance to calm down."
"I guess we did." Jeff ran a hand through his bangs. "It's been kind of a rough day. More like a rough year," he amended.
Scott nodded. "I'm sorry," he said.
Jeff shrugged and crossed his arms. "I've tried to get used to it," he said. "Sometimes I realize I haven't."
"Nobody should have such a rocky time with their family," Scott replied. He had never had the deep friendships he had longed for; the only friend he had grown somewhat close to had drifted apart from him, eventually joining some detective agency. But throughout all the heartache and sorrow, there had been a constant in his life---he got along with his own family very well. They had been a rock, a pillar for him. It always pained him when he saw those who did not have that same happiness. Without close family or friends, Scott felt that Jeff had a far worse situation than he himself.
"I probably brought it on myself," Jeff told him. "I didn't listen to my parents or my uncle when they warned me. Instead I joined up with that gang. My uncle never forgave me for that." He sighed, suddenly looking so weary. "He'll never trust me again."
Scott was stunned. "Don't say that," he exclaimed. "Maybe if you could just have a calm talk with him. . . ."
Jeff snorted. "Every time we try, one of us says something that sets off the other," he said. "He ticked me off today and it's kept getting worse."
Scott did not know what to say. At last he simply laid his hand on Jeff's shoulder. "Don't give up," he said quietly.
Jeff managed a smile. "I try," he said. "I want to be close to him again, like when I was a kid and I'd be all excited to help him in his office. . . . I even used to want to be a detective like him. I thought he was just the greatest---looking for the bad guys and clapping them in jail. . . ." His expression changed to derision. "I was so naive! . . ."
Scott searched the boy's expression. Through the self-depreciating smirk, there was so much pain.
"Detectives are just human too," he said then.
Jeff's look turned to annoyance. "I know that," he said. "That's why I'm not interested in being one anymore. I just keep thinking. . . ." His voice dropped. "What if I'd make a horrible mistake? What if I'd send an innocent person to jail or even prison? They'd always have to live with the scar of being convicted. And I couldn't live with myself if that happened."
A wan smile passed over Scott's features. "You should tell your uncle how you feel," he said.
Jeff merely shrugged. "Maybe if he'd stop calling me a hoodlum every time I turn around," he said. "Why would I want to bear my soul to someone who just thinks I'm a crook? He thinks I don't want to be a detective because I want to be on the other side of the law, or at least because I want to ride dangerously on the edge. I know he does."
For a moment Scott was silent. Then he said, "There could be misunderstandings on both sides."
"I guess," Jeff said. "But I wouldn't bank on it."
He shook his head and turned, his visage hardening again. "Nevermind. I sound like a sentimental idiot. We'd better catch up to the others; maybe Unc thinks I'm beating you up." With that he walked past, heading to where everyone else had gathered by the door.
Scott sighed as he moved to follow. ". . . I wonder how you and your uncle got along in the life we don't remember," he said, still quiet.
Jeff paused. "I wonder too," he admitted. "With our luck, it was worse than this." He walked on, his bangs swinging with the motion.
Scott frowned, thinking on this as he walked behind. ". . . Maybe it was better," he said at last, slightly louder.
This time Jeff did not stop.
****
Double Trouble lived in an apartment building near a bad side of town. As they pulled up in front, Sean shook his head in disbelief at the old brick walls and the peeling paint of the upstairs balconies. Both the sidewalk and the front steps were filled with cracks and weeds, while some ivy had managed to start growing on the walls. Even a couple of windows were covered by the leafy plant.
"It looks like my place," he said, "and I sure as heck can't afford college classes. Where do they get their money?!"
Elliott sighed, looking to Sean through the open windows of their cars. "They got in on a scholarship," he said, "but the fact that they just don't seem interested really bugs me. There's lots of kids who could really use a scholarship and don't have one."
"No kidding," Sean said, as he opened the car door and climbed out. "They probably got my scholarship!"
Elliott parked just ahead of Barry's car and exited as well. Behind him, he could hear Scott getting out the passenger door and walking over to him. Soon the blond was coming alongside.
"It's been a long time since I've been in a place like this," he commented as they and the others climbed the steps.
Barry grunted in agreement.
Elliott reached to haul open the heavy door, holding it open for his companions as he walked into the lobby. Scott ran his hand over the glass as he entered, followed by Sean, Barry, Jeff, and Mr. Gordon. Their footsteps were muffled by the stained carpet in the dimly-lit hall. Behind them, the door swung shut with a firm and final click, sealing their fates.
Elliott headed for the stairs, paying no attention to the heavily-squeaking steps as he ascended.
Sean intoned, "And now, the latest concerto by the Ten Blind Stairs."
Elliott blinked. "Ten Blind . . ." Then the joke registered. And he could not help himself; he laughed, the sound echoing up and down the hall as he arrived at the second floor's landing.
Sean smirked. "Getting someone to crack up is a personal triumph," he said to Barry, who was raising an eyebrow.
"Then I guess you think you'd win a gold medal if you succeeded with me," the older man said.
"You should laugh more," Sean replied. "It's good for the soul."
"I laugh," Barry said, keeping a straight face. "I laugh without opening my mouth."
"No one knows you're doing it!" Sean retorted.
"Exactly," Barry grunted.
Elliott snickered, shaking his head as he tried to calm himself. Taking a deep breath, he turned to face the correct apartment door. He raised a fist, knocking on the hard wood. The sound echoed, then faded into the surrounding walls.
Sean's hands went to his hips. "They're not coming," he said.
As if on cue the door opened, revealing one of the two twins. He peered at Elliott through his ever-present sunglasses, a smug smirk stretching his lips. "So," he jeered, "you're here. We were wondering how long it was gonna take before you'd figure things out."
"Are you Double or Trouble?" Sean asked, coming up behind Elliott.
The delinquent ignored the query, instead studying the other members of the group as they approached. The second brother came to the door behind him, also looking at everyone.
"You've already got together," he said. "Does that mean we're gonna get out of this joint soon?"
Elliott frowned at them both. "You do know who we are," he said. "How long have you been laughing at me because I don't remember?"
"It's a pretty long story to be rehearsing out here," replied one twin. "Come on inside and we'll talk about it."
Elliott gave a single nod. With that he marched inside, the others following behind. Once Mr. Gordon was over the threshold, the door was shut behind them---leaving them in the sparsely furnished living room.
Sean glanced around at the threadbare couch and chairs. "This looks like my place from the inside, too," he said.
"And we shouldn't be rockin' this party," said one brother as he walked around the rickety table. "We don't even know how we got here. We just woke up one day and we were in your Physics class." He looked to Elliott.
"We didn't remember at first," said the second, "but somethin' just didn't seem right. And then we heard about you in the opera." He nodded to Barry.
"It all started comin' back---ACME, V.I.L.E., you detective party-crashers. . . . But you guys didn't remember at all!" The first twin glared at them, as if somehow it was their fault.
"So we figured we'd start leavin' messages, hopin' it'd get you interested," said the second.
Scott barely heard this statement. He had gone pale. "ACME," he whispered. The same agency his friend had joined. . . . Was it possible that they were all supposed to be there? If they were detectives like Greg, maybe they all worked together.
Barry crossed his arms. "Supposing it's true, why would you want us to remember?" he said. "You called us detectives. And you don't entirely seem like you're on the right side of the law." He looked from one to the other. "I could easily imagine us on opposite sides of the conflict."
"You're right," said the first twin.
"But see, we wanna get home," said the second. "We had it a lot better there, in spite of you guys. And since you're always getting into weird stuff, we figure we got dragged into some mess of yours."
"So if you remember, maybe you can figure out how to change things back," said the first.
Sean shook his head. "Well, I'm drawing a blank," he said, holding out his hands in front of him.
"Same here," Scott said. He narrowed his eyes. "How do we know this didn't happen because of some scheme of yours?"
"Oh, touchy," taunted the second. "We don't RSVP to parties like this."
"I don't care. I think you're trying to trick us," Scott retorted.
Mr. Gordon stepped forward. "I know you must be!" he growled, looking to each twin in turn. "Everything you've said is preposterous! What are you insinuating---that all of us have been thrown into an alternate universe vastly different from our own world?"
"That's exactly right, Pops," said the first. "Or somethin' like that."
"And it makes sense with what all of us have been feeling!" Jeff exclaimed. "Come on, Unc, can't you see what's going on here?!" He moved to stand in front of his uncle, frustration obvious in his eyes.
Mr. Gordon glowered at him. "I can see you're siding with these hoodlums," he said.
Jeff blew out his breath in exasperation. "What they're saying is logical!" he cried. "You always say to examine all the facts and then piece together the truth!"
"I doubt that they would even say anything true!" Mr. Gordon growled. "Just like in the past, you're allowing yourself to be taken in by criminals because you want so badly to believe that you belong with these . . . these . . ."
"Shut up!"
The room fell silent. All eyes turned to stare at the seething Jeff, who was shooting daggers at Mr. Gordon with his own eyes. Mr. Gordon gawked, devoid of speech. Before he could regain his mind, Jeff hurried on, at his patience's end.
"This isn't about me!" he screamed. "I'm only listening to them because they're saying the same kind of stuff that these other, law-abiding people are. Why does everything always have to be me making an awful decision? Do you really think I can't ever figure things out on my own, because of the mistake in my past? I guess you never made a bad choice before."
Mr. Gordon shook himself out of his trance. "Jeff . . ."
But the teen rushed right on, not about to give him a chance to scold further. "I guess you also never had people breathing down your neck, wondering what move you made would land you in the pen. It wouldn't be a question of if, after all---it'd just be when. And you've never had people wondering how bad it's going to make the family look! That's what it all comes down to---not me, not 'my own good', just how bad the gossip is!
"Don't you think I already know I've shamed the family?! If it'll give you some kind of satisfaction, yeah, I kick myself every day for that big screw-up. I wish it'd never happened. I'd give just about anything to go back to the past and make myself not join that gang.
"But since it did happen, and since everyone's against me, maybe I should've just been sent to military school. It couldn't possibly be worse than this! I'd rather have some strange guy barking at me all day instead of having my uncle condemning me every day in his heart."
He took a deep breath, fighting to get himself under control. The memories were flashing through his mind, painful and agonizing. . . . Not heeding his family's warnings . . . joining the gang . . . being betrayed by them. . . . Waiting in jail for someone to come bail him out, surrounded by jeers and taunts and cruel laughter. . . . His uncle's accusing eyes when he finally had come. . . . The wall that had come between them. . . . Always knowing that he had been all but disowned by his mother's brother, someone he had once idolized with childlike idealism. . . .
I betrayed him, he knew in his heart. I betrayed him and I can never have his approval or his love again. And no matter how he screamed and yelled, he also knew that he deserved every bit of what had fallen upon him. He was reaping the lasting consequences of his actions. At the very time when he had needed his uncle more than anything, he had not had him. He had not, because he had sealed his own fate. What he had done by not listening to Mr. Gordon had turned the man against him---and rightly so, he thought with bitterness. He had no right to long for something he had lost on his own. He had chosen the gang over his family.
Maybe, once he was of age, he would move away. He would not shame his uncle any more if his whereabouts were unknown. He would soon be forgotten by the neighbors and the gossip would die down. His uncle would be happy then.
"You're not clearly seeing what's going on here," he said now, speaking in a calmer voice. "You think everybody's lying or crazy and I can't figure out why you're so adament about it. Did you have too many people lie to you in your lifetime? Well, I'm sorry if that's true. But what if, just what if, everything here is true?! What if we know these people? What if we really would know how to get home if we just stopped to think and tried to remember?"
His shoulders slumped, his aggravation fully giving way to the true weariness underneath. "What if . . . we don't have so much trouble getting along in the place where we belong?" His voice cracked as he looked at his stunned uncle. "What if in this other world, I never joined that gang? Or . . . what if you forgave me even if I did?
"Maybe I am grasping at straws. Maybe I'm being taken in by liars again. But . . . if this place is real . . . and it's like that . . . I don't know what I wouldn't give to find it." He looked away, falling silent.
Everyone looked from him to his uncle, questions in their eyes. All but Scott were stunned.
". . . They've got issues," one twin sneered, his uncaring voice cutting through the stillness of the room.
Mr. Gordon turned to glare at him. "Shut up," he said, echoing his nephew's words.
Jeff looked to him, disbelief and confusion in his eyes. His uncle never spoke colloquially, and certainly not with such rude statements. The look in Mr. Gordon's eyes said the unimaginable---that something in Jeff's words had reached his heart.
"We'll talk about this later," he said at last.
Jeff gave a numb nod.
Scott sighed. He had expected Jeff to completely snap, though he never could have predicted the circumstances. He was stunned by what Double Trouble had told. And he could not help himself from feeling upset that they had regained their knowledge of the truth, while he and the others were mostly in the dark. Why?
He looked from one twin to the other. They had a close bond. Could that be why their memories had been restored? They had not been separated in this world, at least not according to them. By contrast, he and the others had all been apart. That could very well have kept their memories from coming to light. As soon as he had reunited with Elliott, something had tugged at his soul. Maybe if they had been together from the beginning, they would recall everything by now.
"I don't know how to help you," he said then, deciding that the best thing to do was to ignore Jeff's outburst. "None of us do. We're still trying to figure out ourselves what could've happened."
"And being around each other brings back more memories than your crazy notes did," Sean said. "If everything comes back to us, we'll take a message and get back to you."
The twins did not look impressed. "Remember by the time we come to class," said one, pointing at Elliott. "We're sick of this jamboree."
"At least there's no zombies," Sean smirked.
Elliott looked at the twins steadily. "If I could tell myself to remember and it would happen, I would've done it ages ago," he said. "You're going to have to be patient."
"What do you think we've been trying to do for the last age?" the second twin retorted.
"Patience is a virtue," Sean said, his tone light. "Maybe it'll work for us, too. If we're patient, it'll all come back to us. Eventually.
"But as long as you know so much about this other life of ours, how about enlightening us?" he continued. "The more you tell us, the more we might remember."
"That could be considered the power of suggestion," Barry said.
"It's worth a try, anyway, isn't it?" Sean said with a shrug.
The twins seemed pleased. "Well, gather around and we'll tell you a story," said one.
"Of a three-hour cruise," Sean sang under his breath.
Not having expected the quip, Elliott laughed.
For the next hour, Double Trouble explained everything they could. They told of ACME, where Sean, Scott, Elliott, and Barry did indeed work with Greg. They recounted stories of crime boss Carmen Sandiego and her organization V.I.L.E., to which they belonged. And they related what they knew of Aaron Gordon, P.I. and his assistant Jeff---which was not much. But it was enough to send the boy through the ceiling.
"I'm a detective?!" Jeff burst out. "No way. I made a vow to never be a law-enforcement officer, after the way they treated me. And are still treating me," he could not refrain from adding.
Mr. Gordon's expression hardened.
One of the twins gave a dismissive shrug. "You had some idea about making sure innocent people weren't arrested any more," he said in an almost jeering tone. "The thing with the gang happened in the main world, too."
Jeff stared at him, shocked beyond belief. ". . . And my uncle forgave me?" he asked.
"I guess you'd have to ask him that," the second twin replied.
Scott looked to both Jeff and Mr. Gordon. Sensing a change of subject was in order, and honestly wanting to talk about this strange twist, he said, "Can you believe it? All of us are detectives!" He turned to look at Elliott, then Sean and Barry. "And we're working with Greg. . . ."
"Who's Greg, anyway?" Sean spoke.
Before Scott could reply, Barry said, "I think I know who he is." He sighed, leaning back on the creaking couch. "My aunt's always complaining about all the noise at his detective agency."
Sean blinked. "Oh yeah? She sounds like the old bat who was snapping at me earlier today . . ." But as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he let the sentence trail off into oblivion. Great going, Sean, he scolded himself. He never had found out more than a vague answer to his question about why Barry had been driving down that particular street today. Barry had seemed to have a purpose to the act, rather than just randomly driving through the city. And from the black look Sean was getting now, he had the sinking feeling that he had just put the pieces together---several seconds after sticking his foot in his mouth once again.
". . . That was your aunt, right?" he said now, his normally boistrous voice quiet and sheepish.
Barry gave a single nod. "The detective agency is across the alley, behind the apartment building," he said.
Scott gawked at them both. "That's a bizarre coincidence too," he said. "Or not. . . ."
"What? That I picked the street corner where Barry would show up because of his aunt?" Sean said. "Ordinarily I'd say it was a complete coincidence and brush it off, but so many 'coincidences' have been going on that my sense of logic is bruised, battered, and all but totaled.
"Anyway . . ." He sighed, leaning on the arm of the couch. "You didn't say who Greg is."
Scott looked away. "We were friends, when we were kids," he said. "But we drifted apart." He shrugged. "Just one of those things, I guess."
Elliott laid a hand on his shoulder. ". . . If we're supposed to work with him, maybe we should go talk to him," he suggested. "It might help all of us." But then he shifted, hesitant and uncomfortable with having brought up the idea. Maybe Scott would not feel like doing that. He might prefer to stay away if things were not good between them.
But what was he thinking? The same thing could apply to Scott and Greg that applied to Jeff and Mr. Gordon. If Scott and Greg had not drifted apart in the world they really belonged in, then they owed it to their friendship to meet again and try to remember.
Scott seemed to be having similar thoughts. He looked up with a surprised blink. "You're right," he said. "We should do that!"
"And since you know the location of the agency, you can lead the way," Sean said to Barry in a grand tone.
The twins stood. "We're comin' with you, like it or not," said the first. "We wanna be right there if you start remembering. If we let you get away, we might have a hard time finding you again."
"Ah, self-preservation," Sean said, his hands going to his hips. "Well, I can't say I'm thrilled about it, but if you're that determined to come along, you might as well knock yourselves out."
Barry grunted, not particularly liking the idea of the delinquents riding in his car. Yet on the other hand, he supposed they would not cause any damage, if their goals were currently the same as his and the others'.
"Maybe someone should leave his car here," Sean mused. "We could probably all fit in two cars."
Mr. Gordon grumbled, not particularly wanting to be the one to volunteer to leave his vehicle. Part of him still really wanted to order Jeff to leave with him and forget all of this. Jeff was a minor; his uncle could do that. At the same time, he realized it would alienate Jeff even further. And the boy's plaintive words were still in his ears and his mind. Jeff longed to know if there was a better existence for them. It sounded like a foolish dream---but it was one Mr. Gordon wanted, too. For those reasons, he would humor Jeff a while longer.
The spirit crossed his arms, utter disgust and repulsion in his eyes as their plans continued to formulate. Such friendship, such love, such brotherhood---all where he had tried to destroy it! The only lasting tension he had succeeded in causing was between that boy and his uncle---and they were expendable. His lip curled in contempt.
"If I can't break you one way, I'll break you another," he vowed. "I will take away what's most precious to you."
He followed them out of the apartment, his eyes boring into the back of Elliott's head.