Redcrackle Oneshots | Carmen Sandiego

8. |Photograph🏙| Angst/Canon Divergence

Tl;Dr in which, Gray does not think to set his crackle rod to stun mode, leaving Carmen to grapple with his death.

Word Count: 1,447

Inspired by: carmen_standiego 's redcrackle story. (its really good and i totally reccomend!!)

....

She still thinks of him sometimes. She thinks of how he smiled with his eyes, of the way his lips  pulled into a crooked grin, never failing to reveal a flash of white teeth. She thinks of how when he laughed, rich and hearty, the urge to echo it would suddenly fall upon anyone within proximity.

At first it was horrible, having to live with herself knowing the death of her best friend fell upon her own hands. When she finally found her mother, his loss tainted what should've been the happiest day of her life and, for a while, Carmen resented him for the fact.

At the same time, she felt his absence in her bones, the idea that he was no longer existing alongside her on earth (however far away that might've been before) clawing her insides raw until grief finally ruptured her carefully errected walls.

Sobs would take her from the core, reducing Carmen to sniveling mess in the middle of the night with no one but the stars in the Sky for company as the final remnants of some horrible nightmare involving her ensing his life faded away.

Things got better as time went on. At least, that is what Carmen tells herself.

She has not moved on. His laugh still haunts her and his loss still gnaws her at her soul. But Carmen has forgotten what it is like to be happy and therefore has nothing to compare this current state of monotonous yet deep-seated sorrow that is her life.

Carmen is not incapable of joy.

She still smiles when her mother's home-made empanadas burst on her tongue, still laughs at the antics of the little children in the orphanage.

But she can enjoy nothing for long as every time she dares to let herself be happy, his face returns to taunt her.

That is why Carmen pushes his memory to the back of her mind. She does not let herself think of him. She does not let herself mourn because it is so much easier to pretend him away.

She has tried, before. She's tried thinking of him again--of what could've been--but is halted by a searing, white-hot blaze of pain that never seemes to lessen in strength as time ticks on.

Carmen tells herself she is happy. She has everything she wanted, doesn't she?

But things are too quiet and her mother is too warm and everything is fine around her when she is not and the quiet complacency, the soothing tranquility of this orphanage tucked away within a hidden part of Buenos Aires, is too much to pretend to fit into.

So Carmen goes back. She closes her eyes and dives into her memories, wading through the shallows before slowly edging into the murkier depths.

She hunts for him. She hunts for his laugh, his smile, and his alluring australian accent. She hunts for the curl of his brown hair along with the broad line of his shoulders and the smell of the denim jacket he loaned her during the time they spent playing Bonnie and Clyde for VILE.

It is then Carmen realizes she cannot exactly remember what Gray looks like. Where every fine feature of his face was seared into her memory before, a blurry outline of tan skin and brunette curls with a sharp slice of white for his eyes has taken the place of that memory.