feotakahari (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
feotakahari) wrote2021-08-19 10:18 pm
feotakahari) wrote2021-08-19 10:18 pm
Entry tags:
This Life Feels Good
Set during the second-to-last episode of Carmen Sandiego (2019.)
It feels good to be loved.
The faculty love Carmen’s work, of course. Love the jewelry, the dresses, the cash. But Coach Brunt loves her even without that. Even when the caper goes off-kilter, and one or two ancient artifacts have to be left behind, Coach gives her a bone-crushing hug and tells her to do better next time.
That’s normal, of course. Coach has been hugging her like this for as long as she can remember. So why does it feel so special now? Why does it feel so much like something she’s missed?
--
It feels good to be wanted.
Le Chèvre and El Topo love having her around. She’ll take high, low, or middle, depending on the mission, and she’ll do it with style. Tigress . . . Well, Tigress is a work in progress, but she’s been a little less bitchy since she got a claw stuffed up her nose. Each successful mission is cause for celebration, and she’s the VIP of every party.
That’s why she takes more risks every time. Why she insists on grabbing greater and greater hauls. More than adrenaline or even the loot itself, she likes the way their eyes shine when they see what she’s grabbed next. She’s not the baby or the rookie anymore. She’s a member of the team.
--
It feels good to be needed.
The first time she kisses Gray is after their second successful caper. He clearly wasn’t expecting it, but he kisses back anyway. By the fourth, they’re going far enough to prompt snide remarks from Tigress. His attraction spurs her on, and she spurs him on in turn.
The sixth caper is a messy one. An unusually stealthy guard manages to get the drop on her, and he puts up enough of a fight to almost challenge her for once. As his head finally hits the floor, her blood hums in her veins.
(Only in passing does she note the blood spreading under his head. He isn’t V.I.L.E., so he doesn’t matter.)
She’s still hyped up after the ride back. She practically drags Gray back to her room. (Her faculty room! She’d earned a faculty position!) He’s tense, uncharacteristically unsure, but she wants this enough for both of them.
When she gets his shirt off, he admits he can’t do this. He can’t explain why not, either. He just looks at her with those dopey soft eyes.
It’s like he misses her. Even though she’s right here! Sure, she’s learned and grown a little since the days of water balloons. So has he. She hasn’t lost anything that was worth keeping.
She doesn’t kick him, or punch him, or stuff that stupid staff somewhere sensitive. She needs to stay professional with her colleagues. So that’s what she is with him, on every caper after that. Professional. She quips a little, but she does that with everyone.
It was fun while it lasted, but she doesn’t need to be needed. The thrill of the heist is enough on its own.
--
She’s fine. Better than fine. This is her place. These are her people. She’s doing the job she was always meant to do. No worries, no conflicts. Just a nagging feeling that something’s missing. A sudden silence when she walks into the faculty room. A distance between her and Grey that wasn’t there before.
This life feels good. But it doesn’t feel natural. And something tells her that if she thinks about why that is, teases the dangling threads, she’ll end up in a place she can never come back from.
If you’re going to bait a trap, don’t just put something the prey wants. Put something the prey will never give up on, never want to leave behind. Something it desires more deeply than it desires to be free.
It feels good to be loved.
The faculty love Carmen’s work, of course. Love the jewelry, the dresses, the cash. But Coach Brunt loves her even without that. Even when the caper goes off-kilter, and one or two ancient artifacts have to be left behind, Coach gives her a bone-crushing hug and tells her to do better next time.
That’s normal, of course. Coach has been hugging her like this for as long as she can remember. So why does it feel so special now? Why does it feel so much like something she’s missed?
--
It feels good to be wanted.
Le Chèvre and El Topo love having her around. She’ll take high, low, or middle, depending on the mission, and she’ll do it with style. Tigress . . . Well, Tigress is a work in progress, but she’s been a little less bitchy since she got a claw stuffed up her nose. Each successful mission is cause for celebration, and she’s the VIP of every party.
That’s why she takes more risks every time. Why she insists on grabbing greater and greater hauls. More than adrenaline or even the loot itself, she likes the way their eyes shine when they see what she’s grabbed next. She’s not the baby or the rookie anymore. She’s a member of the team.
--
It feels good to be needed.
The first time she kisses Gray is after their second successful caper. He clearly wasn’t expecting it, but he kisses back anyway. By the fourth, they’re going far enough to prompt snide remarks from Tigress. His attraction spurs her on, and she spurs him on in turn.
The sixth caper is a messy one. An unusually stealthy guard manages to get the drop on her, and he puts up enough of a fight to almost challenge her for once. As his head finally hits the floor, her blood hums in her veins.
(Only in passing does she note the blood spreading under his head. He isn’t V.I.L.E., so he doesn’t matter.)
She’s still hyped up after the ride back. She practically drags Gray back to her room. (Her faculty room! She’d earned a faculty position!) He’s tense, uncharacteristically unsure, but she wants this enough for both of them.
When she gets his shirt off, he admits he can’t do this. He can’t explain why not, either. He just looks at her with those dopey soft eyes.
It’s like he misses her. Even though she’s right here! Sure, she’s learned and grown a little since the days of water balloons. So has he. She hasn’t lost anything that was worth keeping.
She doesn’t kick him, or punch him, or stuff that stupid staff somewhere sensitive. She needs to stay professional with her colleagues. So that’s what she is with him, on every caper after that. Professional. She quips a little, but she does that with everyone.
It was fun while it lasted, but she doesn’t need to be needed. The thrill of the heist is enough on its own.
--
She’s fine. Better than fine. This is her place. These are her people. She’s doing the job she was always meant to do. No worries, no conflicts. Just a nagging feeling that something’s missing. A sudden silence when she walks into the faculty room. A distance between her and Grey that wasn’t there before.
This life feels good. But it doesn’t feel natural. And something tells her that if she thinks about why that is, teases the dangling threads, she’ll end up in a place she can never come back from.
If you’re going to bait a trap, don’t just put something the prey wants. Put something the prey will never give up on, never want to leave behind. Something it desires more deeply than it desires to be free.