Summary: When Carmen pulls a string of heists involving famous women detectives, Zack just isn't feeling the love. A bit of humor/fluff.

Disclaimer: WOEICS is the property of not-moi. Contains shameless feminism and 80s references.

Author's Note: Happy belated birthday to fellow WOEICS fic writer aptasi. I hope you enjoy this dose of Zack-centered fic!

Zack watched his sister pace in frustration outside a soundstage at the famed Universal Studios in Hollywood. Carmen had gotten away, (yet again) with what some would consider a priceless piece of television memorabilia- Jessica Fletcher's typewriter from Murder, She Wrote. While Ivy was frustrated that she had left them seemingly without a clue, Zack was more surprised that Carmen could possibly be entertained by a middlebrow crime show about an old lady solving mysteries.

"Arrgh! This caper of hers just doesn't fit together. What could a bunch of Civil War era documents, a set of first edition Nancy Drew novels, and a prop from some stupid TV show have to do with each other?" Ivy asked, exasperated.

Zack sighed. His sister sometimes had a rather annoying talent for missing what was right in front of her face. "Those weren't just any old documents, Ivy. They were from the Pinkerton Detective Agency. Don't you see the connection? The Pinkterons, Nancy Drew, Jessica Fletcher- they were all famous detectives."

"Okay, famous detectives. But that still doesn't help us figure out where to go next!" She stamped her foot in frustration. "I've got a funny feeling about this case, little bro."

"Me, too," he agreed. Zack couldn't put a finger on it, but something about this case rubbed him the wrong way. Angela Lansbury just wasn't his deal, he supposed. Ugh, or maybe it was the admiring gleam in Carmen's eye every time she looked in Ivy's direction. Whoa, brain wave. "Hey, Chief?"

The grinning head was humming along merrily to the Murder, She Wrote theme song. "Dah da da dah da dah da dum.."

"Yo, Chief!"

"You rang, Zackamundo?" He pouted.

"Can you tell us what exactly was in that box of documents Carmen stole?"

The Chief's disembodied head perched a pair of bifocals on the bridge of his nose and read from a dusty book. "According to the Pinkterton Archives, the stolen papers relate to the career of Kate Warne, a top notch detective and spy who once foiled a plot to assassinate President Lincoln in 1861. She is believed to be America's first female private eye."

"So, Carmen's only interested in stuff concerning famous women detectives," Ivy stated.

Of course. Between Carmen and his sister, Zack sometimes felt like he was standing outside a metaphorical treehouse that had a "No Boys Allowed" sign posted on the door. "Sis, what was it she said to you as she was escaping?" He frowned a little; Carmen couldn't even find the time to taunt him these days, she was so fixated on his sister.

Ivy shook her head. "Something like 'My next crime will be one for the record books.' Not much of a clue."

Record-breaking. Girl detectives. Hmm. "Chief, how many cases did Carmen solve when she was at ACME?"

"Carry the 2…multiply by Pi…114."

"And how many cases has my sister solved?"

"Uh, 114."

"So, after Ivy solves this case, she'll hold the record for the most cases solved at ACME?"

"Sí, señor," he grinned and slapped on a sombrero. "Break out the margaritas and hire a mariachi band, Ivy's due for a fiesta."

"Well, there you have it, sis. This caper is all about you." Zack folded his arms. It's always all about Ivy, he thought bitterly. Once upon a time, he felt like his sister and he had been a well-matched team, parts of a whole, in Carmen's eyes. But somewhere along the line, the balance had shifted. More and more, Ivy received the thief's attention and praise, while he was left in his sister's shadow. Not that he cared about those sorts of things.

A satisfied smile played upon his sister's face. Whether she was more pleased that she had almost solved more cases than Carmen or that Carmen had devoted an entire caper to her, he couldn't tell. But it pissed him off.

"But where is she going next?" Ivy asked.

He couldn't resist adding a sprinkling of sarcasm to his response. "Not exactly Miss Marple today are we, sis? If I wanted to steal something of yours, I'd probably hit up your bedroom."

"It's a good a start as any. Player, C-5 us home."

The C-5 dumped them square in the petunia bed of their neighbor's back yard. Nearly perfect aim by C-5 standards, but still meant that they would be dealing with an angry Mrs. Beasley in the morning. Zack suspected he would somehow end up taking the majority of the heat for this as well; she had never quite forgiven him since he had hacked her doorbell to play "Thriller" three Halloweens ago.

Ivy caught him scowling. "What's eating you, little bro?"

"Nothing," he muttered. "C'mon, wouldn't want to be late for the little Ivy-palooza Carmen's throwing."

His sister raised an eyebrow before silently opening their back door. "Suit yourself."

They crept through the still, darkened house. Zack gave a silent prayer of thanks that his parents were celebrating a second honeymoon in Maui and therefore couldn't be hogtied to the loveseat by Carmen's thugs. An eerie blue light filtered through the crack between Ivy's door and the floorboards. "Carmen," Zack whispered.

Ivy nodded. "On the count of three, I'll kick open the door- you make a grab for Carmen. One…two…three!"

As per usual, it was a brilliant plan, but poorly executed. His sister's hiking boot crashed through the wooden door and got stuck somewhere halfway through. Zack leapt into action, rushing past her, only to find himself sprawled on the floor seconds later, clutching his aching foot. He had tripped over a very large, very solid, very famous typewriter. "Ow!" he yelped.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite girl detective," a familiar voice called above him. "And her brother," Carmen added, almost as an afterthought.

"Nice of you to throw this little party, Carmen. Wouldn't it be great if the case I beat your record with is also the case where I put you away for good?" His sister shot back, still trying to extricate herself from the doorframe.

The thief chuckled. "That's a bit too tidy for me, Ivy. Why, don't you like all the gifts I've picked out for you?"

Zack snorted but said nothing.

"Something you want to share with the rest of the class, Zack?" Carmen prompted.

He rubbed his still aching ankle. With his luck, it was probably sprained or broken. "You went to all of this trouble to celebrate my sister's achievements, but I was the one who broke all your clues. She hasn't even read The Secret of the Old Clock!" he exclaimed, then reddened at having outed himself as a closet Nancy Drew fan.

His sister stopped struggling with the door for a second and said, "I don't believe it. You're actually jealous, Zack."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Dorfbud!"

"Geekwad!"

Carmen held up a black gloved hand. "Enough. If I had wanted to listen to bickering, I would have spent the night at VILE. I agree with your sister. You do sound envious, Zack."

The sour feeling that had been in the pit of his stomach for weeks erupted. "Of course you would agree with her. You always take her side. Ever since the whole thing with the Tigress, it's been Ivy, Ivy, Ivy. Well, the strategy for the Tigress and the boots, that was all me, remember! And then she placed that rose on your grave when you 'died,' and dressed up like you for Halloween….pure brownnosing," he sneered.

"Hey!" his sister interrupted.

Zack got up and limped over to his sister's bed and sat down. "It's ok…I understand. You're two strong, independent women, very alike….Ivy reminds you of yourself when you were younger…Sisterhood is powerful, A Room With a View, blah blah blah feminist solidarity cakes," he lamented.

"It's A Room of One's Own," Carmen corrected gently.

"Whatever."

Ivy finally wrenched herself free of the door and sat next to him. Somehow the cops and robbers aspect of the situation had been lost in the wake of Zack's outburst. "What Zack is trying to say, Carmen, is that he thinks I'm your favorite."

Carmen looked genuinely surprised, a rare occurrence. "I was merely trying to celebrate what is a very important achievement for Ivy." She paused thoughtfully, then added, "And I have planned capers around you in the past, Zack. Remember the Zack Attack 20,000?"

"Yeah, remember that?" his sister nudged.

Zack would not be deterred. "But, do you?" he raised his eyes and asked the master thief. Oddly akin to staring down a goddess.

"Do I what?"

"Have a favorite?" his sister finished, green eyes glinting.

"That's like asking a mother to choose between her children," Carmen replied without thinking.

All three grew silent for a moment as the implications of that statement washed over them. Finally, Ivy spoke up. "Our mother does have a favorite- it's Zack." He rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't deny it. You're her baby. And you're both nuts about languages."

Out of the corner of his eye, Carmen shook her head and whispered, "This is all starting to make far too much sense." She let out an uncharacteristic sigh. "Zack, it was not my intention to hurt your feelings or make you feel second best. I see your contributions. I couldn't imagine playing the game without you as an opponent."

Zack flushed to the tops of his ears. "Um, thanks. Sorry I overreacted."

He felt the disconcerting pleasure of her gloved finger tilting up his chin, forcing him to look her in her one visible blue eye. "Am I to take it then that you want me to commit a robbery in your honor?" she asked playfully.

"Depends. Can you steal Charles Babbage's original notebooks? The Antikythera Mechanism?"

Ivy elbowed him in the ribs, "Who's kissing up now?"

"I'll see what I can do," the thief said, as amused as ever. She threw open the window and planted a long elegant leg on the ledge. "I had better be off. Congratulations, Ivy." A smirk crossed her face, "Though you must acknowledge that you have only surpassed my record as a detective because of my achievements as a thief. Criminals in my day were not nearly so…prolific."

"Here she goes again…" Ivy grumbled.

"When I was at ACME we didn't have fancy gadgets. We had to chase crooks uphill, both ways, in the snow!" Zack mocked. His sister snickered.

When he looked up, Carmen was gone. Instead of her trademark "Until next crime," Zack could have sworn she muttered "I am never having children" before making her escape.