Michelle was in the car, waiting for Eliza. Eliza was still in her bedroom, getting a few things for the little road trip they were about to embark on, and Michelle didn't mind waiting one bit. She tuned the radio, playing around ping ponging from station to station until she landed on a station of nothing but classical music, and she liked that. Nice background noise. Finally the door opened, and Michelle glanced up, spying Eliza hugging her father before heading out, little backpack in hand. She opened the passenger door and climbed in, as Michelle started the car and then leaned towards her, putting her hands on Eliza's face and kissing her, making her laugh.

"Good morning," Michelle said, and Eliza giggled more.

"Good morning!" she chirped back happily, "You're in a happy mood."

"I am in a mood, certainly," Michelle said, as she started to back out of the driveway and head down the street, "whether it's happy remains to be seen depending on how the day unfolds. We need to stop at the studio real quick though, I need to pick something up."

"Okie dokie," Eliza replied, putting one wireless earphone on and listening to her own music to keep calm. Even with Michelle, someone who clearly adored her, she needed to be calm. The companionship was nice, but Eliza constantly had bad thoughts running through her head, and she needed to distract herself no matter what, in whatever way she could. The drive to the studio was short and silent, and when they arrived, Michelle only needed to run inside because she was getting the address from her office, which she'd written down and then forgot there. As she was exiting, she bumped into Bea, and a woman standing beside her.

"Oh, hi!" Michelle said, "I didn't know you'd be here on an off day."

"I won't be," Beatrice replied, "I'm having a meeting, but I need you to do something for me."

"Well, I...I'm having a meeting too, so I can't exactly-"

"Just take Casey with you," Bea said, gesturing to the girl standing beside her, "Casey this is Michelle, Michelle this is Casey. Casey's going to be working here but until we can reconvene later today she doesn't have anything to do and anywhere to go, so I need her to tag along with you, yeah?"

Michelle sighed and nodded, feeling a bit worn down, but willing to do what Bea asked. Bea hugged her, thanked her, and then looked at her watch, as if she were waiting for someone. Michelle and Casey walked back to the car and Casey climbed into the back as Michelle seated herself behind the wheel once more. Eliza pulled one earphone off and looked back at Casey, who smiled politely.

"...are we dealing in human trafficking now?" she asked, and Michelle laughed as she pulled out and headed back down the road. Meanwhile, Bea stood outside the studio, smoking, tapping her foot. Today was always hard. Maybe this year, though, it'd be easier. Finally Liam's car pulled up and she stubbed out her cigarette and climbed into the passenger seat, oohing as she sat.

"Wow, seat warmers," she said, "how fancy."

"Look you can't be dismissive and appreciative at the same time," Liam replied.

"Oh, to the contrary, watch me," Bea remarked, making him smirk as they, too, pulled away.

                                                                                                          ***

Justine was sitting in home office, sipping coffee, staring at her fishtank. The bubbles were hynoptic, and the sound of the water moving ever so slightly, circulating round the tank, brought her an odd sense of calm. She leaned back in her chair and then looked down at her drafting table, where she was currently doing watercolor pages for an upcoming childrens book about a swan. She sighed, took another sip of coffee, and then finally stood up.

She placed the mug on the small table beside the drafting desk and grabbed the container of fish flakes, shaking it over the aquarium top so they could feed. As she knelt down and smiled, watching them eat, all she could think about was the crash. How she'd only survived really because the plane had landed in water, and because it had landed tail first, meaning the cabin was pointed up (and the fact that it was a two person biplane), she had plenty of time to scramble out of it and swim to shore with the last of her strength before collapsing.

How she managed to do that, especially with her legs as damaged as they were, always remained a mystery, but she was grateful for being alive. Especially in times like this, where she could sit and do the kind of work she loved, watching animals she liked, yes, she really understood the appreciation of life itself now. She sat back down and turned her attention back to her work. A story about a swan. Somehow she was always dragged back to the water.

                                                                                                           ***

"So where are we going?" Casey asked, leaning up between the front seats.

"I'm going to meet a woman that's the daughter of my social worker," Michelle said.

"Is she really even your social worker anymore?" Eliza asked, "I mean...you have a job, you live with her, isn't she just kind of your friend now?"

Michelle hadn't even considered this somehow. After all the years of knowing Delores, it was a bit hard to not think of her as being her social worker. Maybe Eliza was right. Maybe it was time to stop thinking of her as her social worker, and instead just think of her as her friend. Hell, she'd been more of a mother to her than her own mother had been, just in the short time she'd lived with her. They came to a red light and Casey opened up some gum and popped it in her mouth, chewing.

"...are you scared?" Eliza asked.

"I'm...anxious," Michelle responded, "I'm anxious. Not scared. I just worry that she's going to be mad at me for lying, for convincing her to meet with me, because what if she wants nothing to do with Delores? I mean, the fact that they've not spoken in so long kind of insinuates that she wants nothing to do with her."

"But you're curious why, right?" Eliza asked, and Michelle nodded as the light changed to green and she kept driving.

"Extremely," she replied, "I just feel like...for all Delores has done for me, I have to do something in return."

"That's what makes you a good person," Eliza said, smiling, as she put her hand on Michelle's thigh. Regardless of how things spun out today, Michelle was happy to have Eliza by her side. Never before in her life had she had a relationship, and she certainly hadn't expected her first one to really be as strong and honest and supportive as it was. Though...she was a bit annoyed at Beatrice dumping Casey on her.

"Does anyone want gum?" Casey asked.

"What kind? It smells like cinnamon," Eliza said.

"You have a good nose," Casey remarked, and handed her a piece, making Eliza excited, which made Michelle smile.

Maybe Casey's presence wouldn't be so detrimental after all.

                                                                                                         ***

"Been a while since we've been to a really nice place like this," Liam said, he and Bea seated in a lovely dimly lit steakhouse in a booth. Beatrice was looking through the menu while Liam picked up his water glass and took a long sip. He finally sighed and looked at her, then asked, "do you wanna talk about it?"

"We don't do enough together," Bea said flatly, "for all the history we have, and the relationship we've got, we don't do enough together."

"I mean, I agree, and I'd like to do more like this," Liam said, "doesn't have to be a strictly yearly thing."

"It does, actually, because if it were more often, I'd have to think about it more," Beatrice said, "I don't mind being your friend, I don't mind having you in my life, I don't mind working with you, but to have anything more social outside of that, it...it takes me back to all that. Back to that...that moment. I found her file."

Liam's eyes widened a bit and he leaned back in his side of the booth, folding his arms after adjusting his glasses.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah," Bea replied, "it was just in my closet with some other things. A whole life boiled down to just a few scraps of paper and a photo. Seems weird, right? Like there should be more. But that's all we get in the end, in this situation. I wanted to cry, but I just...I labeled it, hid it and went back to my day."

A moment passed as a waitress took an order from a nearby booth, then passed them.

"Do you ever think about it?" Bea asked quietly, looking down at her lap.

"...sometimes," Liam said softly, "but...and I say this with no judgement in regards to your own way of processing things...I can't let myself regret it. If I start down that path, then I'll start opening up every decision I ever made in my life and how I, in turn, made the wrong one. I just can't do that. What's done is done. It's over."

Bea nodded as a waitress finally came to their table and Liam ordered for the both of them. Sitting there, watching him, Beatrice couldn't help but feel like maybe he was right. For so long she'd mourned their life in show business, and all the things that that entailed, Claire included, but Claire was gone. There was nothing they could do to change that, so why dwell on it, especially twenty something years later? Just enjoy the now. Maybe Liam was right about them meeting more often. An anniversary just drags you back to that moment, why not create new reasons to be sociable together? She picked up her water glass and took a long drink.

"So I see you hired that girl from the pizzeria," Liam said and Bea nodded.

"Indeed," she replied, "I intend to take every broken young lady that I find under my wing."

"...is that because you couldn't keep Claire around?" Liam asked, and Bea looked at him, blinking.

She'd never even considered that, in all honesty, but he was probably right. It was probably related to that loss. Loss, after all, makes you do wacky things. But instead of recognizing that openly, and discussing it with the only person who could understand her reasoning for having been there the moment it happened, instead she just shrugged and waited for her appetizer. She hadn't had cheese sticks in a while.

                                                                                                            ***

Michelle, Eliza and Casey were all standing on the large roofed porch of Justine's home, waiting anxiously. Michelle wanted to knock, but she was scared to do so, even with the cover story she'd given for her reason for showing up. She knew that the instant that cover story fell away, and Delores was brought up, that things would change drastically. Eliza held her hand, and Michelle felt her nerves melt a bit, so she nodded, shut her eyes for a moment and knocked on the door. After a few moments, it finally opened, and Justine peeked out.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Hi," Michelle said, smiling brightly, "My name is Michelle, I called about meeting you for a job."

"Right! Come in, please," Justine said, moving aside and allowing the girls entrance. As all three passed her, she shut the door and, half chuckling, added, "I didn't realize you were going to bring an entire committee. Please, have a seat. I have some tea, if anyone is thirsty."

"Tea would be nice, thank you," Eliza said, and so Justine headed to the kitchen to get some while the girls sat down. Michelle couldn't deny...this wasn't what she was expecting. This house was so...normal. She'd expected someone who'd survived a plane crash to be exciting and adventurous, not recede further into general blandness. But it did. It reeked of the mundane. Lots of seafaring art hanging from the walls - ranging from metal crab sculptures to paintings of seagulls resting on ship sails - and the most boring rugs one could conjure up in their minds. This was the daughter of Delores? Really? The two didn't seem similar at all. Justine finally returned with multiple cups on a tray and set the tray on the coffee table between them, along with a plate of cookies.

"You sure know how to entertain guests," Casey said, picking up her mug of tea and, after nesting it between her thighs momentarily, reached into her coat and pulled out a flask. She unscrewed it, poured some into the tea and then started to drink.

"You can drink on the job?" Justine asked.

"Can I? Probably not. Will I? Definitely," Casey remarked.

"Thank you very much for your hospitality," Eliza said politely, and Michelle felt humbled by having such a nice girlfriend.

"So what is this book about?" Justine asked, "I always like to get to know the ins and outs of what it is I'm potentially doing artwork for before actually committing to it, if you understand. It helps me paint, not to be cute, a broader picture, a more wide scope, of what it is I'm getting involved in."

"Actually, that's the thing," Michelle said, "um...we're not...we're not really with a publishing house. I lied. My name is Michelle, yes, but...but I work for a streaming network that produces mainly childrens content, and...and I was hoping you'd like to talk about the fact that I've been living with your mother now for months. I had major surgery a while back, and your mother took me in to help give me a safe place to heal and recoup, and escape my own mother who's a vile disgusting person, and once she told me she had a daughter, I just...I became curious about why you two never spoke. She told me about the accident, and-"

"Why wouldn't she, she tells everyone," Justine said, interrupting, catching Michelle off guard; she sipped her tea and added, "it's her own personal sob story she can relay around to those who might give her sympathy. I didn't even WANT to visit for that holiday, but she insisted, as she does, and so her insistance put me on that plane, and put me on the brink of death."

"Hardcore," Casey said.

"So forgive me if I'm not immediately interested in rekindling a relationship that burned out ages ago," Justine concluded.

"Listen, I know what it's like to hate your mom, I do," Michelle said, "my mother blamed me for all my health problems, told me constantly that my medical debt kept her from truly pursuing a life in the arts. I get it. I really, really get it. And I know that simply being a house guest as opposed to actually being related isn't the same, and obviously you know Delores far better than I do, but...but I think that absence has done her good. She seems...humble. I walked into the kitchen the other night and she was crying, looking at a photo album. She isn't interested in reconciling for the sake of saving face. She genuinely misses you."

Justine chewed her lip and thought about this. After a moment, she shook her head.

"Yeah, well," she said, taking a cookie from the plate, "either way she's sending lackies out to do her work, when I won't answer her calls, so-"

"She didn't send anyone," Michelle said, "she doesn't know I'm here."

That, she had to admit, threw her for a loop. Justine hadn't been expecting that one. She put her mug down on the table and looked at Michelle with earnest eyes, her hands now cupped in her lap.

"So you just...took it upon yourself to find me of your own volition?" Justine asked.

"I have an abusive mother, Eliza's mother died in an accident, and..." Michelle glanced at Casey, who just looked away; Michelle shrugged and continued, "I just...I feel like we can relate and-"

"My mother," Casey said, interrupting, clearing her throat, "she...she used to sell me to her male friends when I was growing up. We were poor, and we didn't have a whole lot of money so my mother used to sell me to men for their...interests in me. So, I think, if anyone has any reason to hate their mother here, it's me. I'm curious to know what made you so angry at your mother, because more often than not, it's small and irrelevent. Angry words said at inopportune times, often in the heat of the moment and not said with sincerity. You don't hate your mother. You hate the moment. And it's hard to separate the moment from the mother, and look past that. But I guarantee my mother doesn't look at photo albums of me and cry. If anything, she's just mad she can't use me to make her money anymore."

The room filled with an uncomfortable quiet, and Michelle felt her eyes wet with tears, but she didn't want to cry. Eliza sniffled and wiped her nose on her sweater sleeve, and then they all heard Justine start to cry. Justine stood up, walked around the coffee table and pulled Casey's head against her, holding her, petting her.

"I'm so sorry," Justine said through tears, "that's so sick. You shouldn't...fuck....you're right and I'm so sorry."

And after that, everything was smooth sailing. Fittingly so, considering all the seafaring related stuff in the house.

                                                                                                             ***

Bea and Liam, after lunch, now found themselves sitting at the bar of the steakhouse, sipping on their respective alcoholic beverages but not saying a word. Liam continued deshelling pistachios and eating them as they sat and in a somewhat uncomfortable silence. Seemed that not having to interact with one another much recently had killed their ability to hold a conversation, but there was something Bea did want to ask...though she was scared of how Liam would react.

"...could we have made it work?" Bea asked, and Liam glanced at her, raising an eyebrow as she continued to elaborate on her vagueness, adding, "like, realistically, do you think we could've made it work?"

"Who knows," Liam said, "I'd like to have the confidence to say yes, but realistically speaking...I don't know. I think there would've been issues standing in the way of accomplishing that. I like to think that Claire would be proud of what we've managed to accomplish though, coming from that situation and feeling so hopeless and helpless."

Beatrice nodded, sniffling, looking at her drink.

"I think I need to be on anti-depressants," she said quietly, and Liam smiled.

"Yeah?"

"I worry far too much, think far too much," Bea said, "it isn't healthy to be this sad all the time. I need to do something about it before it truly incapacitates me in some manner or another. I need to start taking responsibility for my health."

"I'm proud of you for that acknowledgment," Liam said, patting her on the back.

"Here's to the 24th anniversary," Bea said, "wish she could be here."

"Here here," Liam replied, both raising their glasses and clinking them before drinking.

                                                                                                           ***

After getting back to the studio, Eliza headed to The Hole to work more on Keagan's puppet, while Michelle stayed in the props department with Casey - keeping her busy until Bea returned like she'd promised to - while they worked on building new pieces for upcoming episodes. Casey stopped painting for a moment and looked at Michelle, who looked up at her from her knelt position.

"Everything okay?" Michelle asked, "that was...some heavy stuff."

"I just figured it was a good way to shift perspective," Casey said, "not to disparage anything she went through, because, hell, surviving a plane crash regardless of her relaitonship with her mother is rough enough to live with. But I just figured maybe she should see what a truly despicable parent is like."

"I'm really sorry that happened to you, for what it's worth," Michelle said.

"It's just life," Casey said, shrugging, "it happened. Nothing I can do about it. And I'm sure I deserved it for some reason."

Michelle shook her head as she dragged her paint brush down the fence post, wishing she knew what to say. She'd never once dealt with someone with a history of CSA. Still, she felt like maybe just giving Casey a safe space to work in and feel comfortable in was help enough.

"Are you and that girl Eliza a couple?" Casey asked, and Michelle nodded, smiling.

"Yes we are," she said, "we're looking to adopt a dog."

"That's really cute," Casey remarked, putting down her paintbrush into a nearby can of thinner, "does a broken heart good to be around so much love."

Michelle smiled more. She was right. It WAS good for a broken heart to be around so much love. That was the one thing Bea had given them all over their time together, and would now give to Casey, and all of them had healed and grown so much from that simple act of kindness. And the saddest part was that, even if Bea recognized this - which she did - she would never be able to grant herself a job well done for it, all because she hadn't been able to give Claire that very same thing.

Bea never showed back up at the studio that night, instead opting to go home and be with Leslie for the evening. But she called, she left a message about what Casey could get to work on in her absence, and that they'd find something more permanent at a later date. This anniversary with Liam always messed her up, always made her aware of her failings instead of her success, and maybe he was right to suggest finally putting it to bed. And yet...and yet she couldn't even entertain that idea, because the anniversary was all that they had left of Claire. They'd already lost her. They couldn't lose that too.

Yes. One day she would have to face down the past with Claire head on. But today was not that day.

Maybe next year.

Michelle came down the stairs, one hand clenching at the collar of her robe while the other rubbed her eyes. It was almost 5am, and she had woken up with an upset stomach, so she went in search of some crackers and water. However, as she neared the landing, she could hear the soft gentle crying of Delores in the kitchen. She approached cautiously and peered inside, only to see Delores sitting at the table, looking at a small photo album. Michelle entered and cleared her throat, giving Delores ample time to wipe her face on her robe sleeves and try to catch her breath.

"Are you okay?" Michelle asked, her voice raspy from sleep.

"I'm....having a moment," Delores replied, half laughing, "are you?"

"I don't feel great, I needed a snack," Michelle said, sitting down at the table, "but...if you wanna talk about it, we can-"

"There's nothing to discuss, no, it's okay," Delores said, "I was just...I was thinking about my daughter was all. Some nights it gets to be too hard to ignore. There's some tea on the stove, if you're thirsty. I'm gonna try to go back to sleep, I'll see you in the morning. Sleep well."

With that, Delores stood up and, taking the photo album with her, she kissed Michelle's forehead before yawning and heading back up the stairs, mug in her other hand. Michelle looked around the kitchen and sighed. She knew Delores saw her as a surrogate daughter of sorts, as she was a mother stand in to Michelle, but this incident made Michelle want to give something more to Delores than she could. She wanted to give her her family back. But how could she possibly do that? She knew next to nothing about her daughter, and wasn't sure where to begin to look.

Another night of uncertainty.

                                                                                                            ***

Justine didn't remember anything about the crash except for hearing her boyfriends screams. It was strange, she was so eerily calm in the face of possible eternal nothingness, and yet her boyfriend was the one screaming like a little girl. His screams, and the difference between the two of them, was the only thing she could recall. The next thing she knew, she was laying in a hospital bed and could barely move. In fact it even hurt to breath. She looked to her side and saw a glass of water, so she reached over, grasping it best she could, and pulled it to her lips where she took long, steady gulps. Once it was empty, she set it back down and coughed a little, before noticing that also on the bedside table where the glass had been was a card.

She once again reached for it, struggling to do so, and after getting it in her bandaged hands, she opened it slowly - too much movement hurt - and read the inscription on the inside. It was from her mother, Delores, and it was a whole two paragraphs long. After scanning it, she felt herself tear up and put the card back on the table, face down, and promised herself she'd never speak to her mother again. And she hadn't since that day. She made a lot of promises that afternoon in that hospital bed: get back to good health, never fly again and cut her mother off, and since then...well...

...she was proud to admit she'd stuck true to all of them thus far.

                                                                                                            ***

"I can find her, don't worry," Liam said, and Michelle looked at him with casual uncertainty. She heard Eliza set down a pair of scissors on the table in The Hole and looked behind her momentarily before resetting her gaze on Liam once again.

"You can?"

"I can find anybody," Liam said, "Michelle, you of all people should know how easy it is to actually track someone down, given what you and Keagan managed to accomplish. Just give me a few days and I can definitely get the information you need."

Liam sipped from his coffee cup as he and Michelle went back to watching, from afar, Eliza create a new prop for the show. The Hole had quickly become the hide out for Eliza's immediate friend circle, and she wasn't at all bothered by this. Liam was a close friend, Bea was like a secondary mother, and Michelle was her girlfriend. Her workspace was their safe space. Michelle sighed and tossed her hair.

"What if she doesn't want to be found? What if I'm...what if I'm making a huuuuuuge mistake by doing this? For all I know she and Delores hate eachother. I mean, when Delores first told me about her, she said Justine specifically cut ties, and didn't want her help or company any longer. What if I'm fucking that up by reaching out?" Michelle asked, chewing anxiously on her nails.

"Your justifications are sound, regardless of the outcome. Besides, as someone who hates their mother, I think perhaps it's imperative that you two speak," Liam replied, "maybe you could both give one another some much needed insight."

Michelle nodded, taking in Liam's opinion to heart. Michelle hadn't even heard so much as a peep from her mother since Beatrice confronted her in the hospital hallway. Not that she minded, the less interaction between the two of them the better, she felt. They both went back to watching Eliza as she turned on her sewing machine and began to stitch. Michelle smiled a little. At least, in the moments of sheer uncertainty, she was confident that she had someone in her life who loved her the way she needed to be loved, and she knew she was lucky in that regard. Not everyone had that.

"Let me know when and if you find anything," Michelle said, and Liam nodded.

"Yeah, of course, you'll be the first to hear about it, besides me obviously," Liam replied, the both of them chuckling. Michelle walked towards the table to talk to Eliza and, watching them converse, Liam thought back to his own family. He'd met Bea's parents now, he'd seen where she'd come from, but Michelle was still such an enigma to him. His own family hadn't been much better though, to be fair. He wasn't nearly as estranged from them as, say, Michelle was, but he did try to keep contact rather to a minimum. He thought back to Justine, and Michelle's inquiries about her whereabouts, and he realized he was somewhat of a hypocrite. How could he justify finding someone who so clearly didn't want to be found?

But that's what he did. That's what he had. Found family. What better reason was there, really?

                                                                                                           ***

Justine laid on her couch and exhaled deeply. It had been a long day.

She'd done a ton of watercolors, sketches, charcoal drawings, and more for the current kids book in production, and her hands hurt and the last thing she wanted to do was more work. Right now she wanted to rest, relax, maybe watch some sort of history show where she could shut her brain halfway off. She turned the TV on, put the volume to a low rumble, and pulled a pillow over her face. But the rest didn't last long, because only a few minutes later did her landline ring. She groaned, annoyed, and rolled over, reached across the armrest of the couch and gripped the phone from its base on the table beside her and pulled it to her face.

"Hello?" she asked, but nobody spoke. She sighed and spoke again, "helllloooo? Is anyone there?"

This had been happening for weeks now, on and off. She waited for a few moments, and then hung up. It rang again a few minutes later, only for the same thing to occur. She was beginning to get very frustrated with this, and had even considered outright canceling her phone service or even changing her number, but she knew that wasn't logical. Justine laid there on the couch and stared at the ceiling, thinking about what she should do that evening. She didn't want to work anymore, so maybe she should go out and get something to eat. Peter had always liked going to...

...and that's when the despair set in.

As soon as Peter was invited into her mind, everything else went out the door. She felt like she was being dragged down into a tar pit from which, no matter the amount she struggled to do so, she could not break free. He was gone. He had been here. He had been her best friend, her lover, possibly her future husband (they had discussed marriage on a number of occasions in fact, and neither felt remotely opposed to the idea). They'd lived together for a number of years, and to lose him, especially in the way that she had...she often wished she'd just died as well. What was the point of survival, she questioned, if it meant surviving on your own? She knew people hated the whole 'don't let someone else be half of your whole' belief of romance, but that's what they had been. Two halves of a whole. Now here she was, merely a half, and most days she barely felt like that even.

She'd started writing a novel in her spare time when she wasn't working on childrens books, but she'd only gotten maybe 15k words deep, and was struggling to get further, not because it was challenging -  she was nothing if incredibly artistically inclined - but because it just hurt so deeply to write about things she no longer could experience. Justine rolled onto her side, tugging the pillow into her chest, her face now touching its nose to the back cushions of the couch and she started to cry. Everything had lost its luster. Even the mundane things, like grocery shopping, were now even somehow more dull than they had been with him. Maybe she just wouldn't eat dinner tonight. She hadn't been eating as much since the accident. She was losing weight fast. But, like with everything else, she just didn't care.

The next early afternoon, the phone rang again, jolting her awake on the couch, and again, when she answered, there was nobody. She knew there were a few possibilities: either her mother, Delores, calling and then hanging up out of fear, a wrong number, a faulty connection, a prank. But despite all these being such obvious reasons, the one she clung to was the hope, however bleak and ridiculous as it might've seemed, was that it was Peter trying to call her, tell her he was in fact okay wherever it was he had ended up.

But she knew that was stupid.

It was raining. She made some cocoa and went back to sleep.

                                                                                                         ***

Casey Kochawski was sitting in the backroom of the pizzeria, alone, smoking a joint. The costumes head was sitting on the couch beside her, as she blew smoke into the air, and then waved it away with her pawed hand, dispersing it. The doorknob twisted, and Casey worried, trying to figure out what to do with the joint, but when the door opened, it was Beatrice coming in. She smiled at seeing Casey smoking, and pulled a chair over towards the couch, seating herself and watching Casey watching her nervously.

"Uh...I'm...I'm sorry. I shouldn't...I shouldn't be-" Casey said, clearly anxious.

"Nah, you're good," Bea said, "smoke 'em if you got 'em. I just wanted to come by and thank you for the piece of art you gave me the other week."

"Oh!" Casey said, now smiling, "Yeah, yes! Of course! You're...you're so welcome! I'm so glad you liked it."

"How did you even become a fan?" Bea asked, as Casey held the joint out to her and she hesitantly took it, taking a long puff as Casey adjusted herself on the couch.

"This costume is so bulky," she muttered under her breath, making Bea chuckle as she added, "um...actually, I watched it when it was originally on too. I grew up poor, so...so we didn't get a lot of TV channels, cause we couldn't get cable or whatever, so I just watched whatever was available, and the channel I watched the most, our local channel, got your show. But I never...I never looked into it or anything, like that girl did, I never recorded and digitized it. I just...remembered it."

Bea nodded, listening, waiting for Casey to go on. After a moment, Casey exhaled and continued.

"Uh...and...uh...my house was always filled with yelling. My parents hated one another," Casey said, "I was practically ignored, like...like to the point where child services were often involved cause I didn't...I'd go to school without shoes because my shoes would wear out and nobody would get me new shoes and stuff like that. Whenever I did ask for help, my parents would just yell at me, before yelling at one another again. So having your show, someone so gentle, talk to me reassuringly...I don't know. It really helped."

Bea wanted to cry. She handed the joint back to Casey and put a hand over her mouth, trying to keep herself from breaking down. Casey turned the joint around in her hand and looked at it for a long minute before continuing to smoke.

"I guess, I don't know, I just wanted you to know how much good you did, even if you thought you didn't do any," Casey said, "cause I know the feeling of feeling like nothing I'm doing matters. I mean, here I am, no high school diploma, dropped out in 8th grade, and I'm working here, pretending to be you. But that's kinda exactly what I always wanted. Was to be you, you know? It's like this weird middle path between ashamed and proud."

Bea nodded, as Justine took another long drag. Bea finally reached across and put her hand on Casey's knee, the both of them looking into one anothers eyes.

"...do you want a job?" Bea asked.

"I have a job," Casey said, laughing.

"Come work with me," Bea said.

"You mean for you?"

"No," Bea said, shaking her head, "I mean with me."

Casey smiled, and wanted to cry. Even now, as an adult, here was the dog, always looking out for her.

                                                                                                          ***

"Tada," Liam said, leaning over Michelle's current prop in the making - a new rose bush made from plastic - holding out a piece of paper towards her. Michelle got up from her knees and cautiously took it, looking at him as he stayed leaning there.

"Okay first of all, you can only say that if you're a magician," Michelle replied, "secondly that's wet paint."

"Ah!" Liam shouted, recoiling, now noticing the wet paint on his coats elbows, "god, you couldn't have told me that sooner?!"

Michelle cracked up and unfolded the paper, looking at it, before looking back at Liam.

"Seriously? That fast?" she asked.

"Now I gotta get this dry cleaned, you know you're paying for this right?" Liam asked.

"Yeah yeah, sure, whatever, seriously though? It's been like two days, how did you-"

"Because, Michelle, I'm good at what I do," Liam said, "dammit, this was my favorite jacket!"

Michelle thanked him again and turned to exit. She entered the hall, headed for Bea's office and the landline within it. As she walked past a vending machine, Eliza rose up from her kneeling position, bag of cookies in her hand and started following her. Once within the room, Michelle told Eliza to shut the door, and she did just that. Michelle grabbed the phone from the base, then dialed the number on the paper as Eliza stood and watched, eating from her bag of cookies. A few rings, and then finally an answer.

"Hello?" Michelle asked, the excitement in her voice incapable of being masked, a grin spreading across her face, "Hello , my name is Michelle. I'm calling for Justine Stiltskon? Yes, okay hi! Hello Justine. I'm from..."

Michelle glanced around and looked at Michelle, who just held up her cookie bag.

"...Famous Amos Publishing," Michelle said, both of them trying to stifle their laughter as she continued, "I want to speak to you about a possible illustration job for an upcoming...yes...Yes! Okay, well when do you think we could meet? I would gladly come to your home."

Michelle scrambled for a pen and a piece of paper, tucking the phone under her chin as she jotted it down.

"Okay, thank you so much, I'll see you then," Michelle said, hanging up and looking at Eliza.

Michelle was about to attempt to do something, and she was just hoping she wouldn't regret it.

"I'm so glad we started doing this," Michelle said as she clicked her seatbelt in and Beatrice pulled out of Delores' driveway; Michelle continued, "I feel like a lot of times we don't get to see eachother much cause of work, despite working together, so this is a nice way to rectify that. Where do you wanna have breakfast?"

"I was thinking of this little diner on the other side of town called Lazlos, it's really old but the line cooks are incredible, somewhere Liam and I went for years," Bea said as they drove down the street. Since the show had started production again, Michelle wasn't wrong, she and Bea hadn't had as much time together. Between the shows schedule and their individual recoveries from the surgery, it just felt like they hadn't been seeing one another as often as they'd liked, so when Beatrice approached Michelle with the idea of having breakfast every three days on the way to work, she hopped on that immediately.

"Are you ever nervous about burnout?" Michelle asked, and Bea shrugged.

"I don't know, kind of? I have the easiest part of the job, I think," she replied, "cause all I really do is memorize some lines and act in a suit. It's not as difficult as, say, editors or prop makers. Eliza's got it way worse than me. But she also could never get burnout, she loves what she does so much. I mean, I guess I do have to write the damn thing, but a lot of times I have help from you or Liam or whomever."

"I worry about it, but I don't know why. It's not like my duties are that intense," Michelle said, "if anything, I worry about burnout on a personal level, with people, relationships, stuff like that. Not from work."

Bea nodded, completely understanding what she meant. As they came to a red light, Bea lit a cigarette and rolled down her window.

"You're still smoking?"

"On occasion," Bea said, "I'm trying hard to quit, but it's difficult. When something's been a habit for long enough, it can be a tough crutch to walk without, you know? Anyway, Michelle, I completely understand what you mean. Work is laser focused. I don't doubt myself of my abilities. But I DO doubt myself when it comes to interacting with others and keeping things afloat, companionship wise, yeah...I worry. Lately Leslie and I haven't had a lot of time to ourselves either, and it's been bothering us. I worry Liam and I are growing distant just because we're both so focused on different aspects on the property, and you..."

Bea looked over at Michelle, who smiled at her, easing her heart.

"...I never want us to stop being friends. So I make a promise to myself every day to make the effort to interact, even when I don't feel like it, because not only does it help further the relationships I have and need, but sometimes, you never know, it might just be something the other person needs as well. Maybe they're not feeling well that day, and your interaction is the bright spot in an otherwise bad afternoon. Everyone deserves attention on some level."

The light turned green and Bea started driving again. Michelle thought about what she said, and she understood why she felt that way. If you wind up in childrens entertainment, especially one such as hers where you're teaching kids things, your entire goal is to make a child feel seen, heard, respected, understood and cared for. Why not carry that same belief over to how you deal with the other people in your life? Michelle sighed happily. Beatrice was such a good influence, and it made her want to try even harder.

Lazlo's was, as Bea put it, ancient. It's interior was still styled the way it had been in the 70s - its only remodel since it's opening in 1943 - and honestly, this made Michelle love it all the more. She had such an affinity for things that were stuck in time. Seated on opposites of a booth from eachother, Beatrice drinking tea and Michelle sipping coffee as they waited for their plates of food, Michelle couldn't help but wonder about what direction the show might take this year. She put her mug back down after taking a long sip and looked across to Bea, who was doing the papers crossword puzzle.

But, before she could speak, Bea spoke instead without even looking up.

"I'm thinking of doing a live show," Bea said, "do something on a stage somewhere, where kids can come and meet me afterwards."

"I think that's a fantastic idea," Michelle said eagerly, "and you wouldn't be outside your element. You have theatre background, and many other kids shows do this very thing, so I think you're on a good path with this idea. Though...I must admit...lugging the set and all the props around would be kind of a hassle."

"Well that's why you hire roadies," Bea said as the waitress finally set their plates down before them.

"We're not a rock band, Bea," Michelle replied, giggling.

The two ate in somewhat silence, only occasionally discussing the other ins and outs of what a live show could entail. Michelle didn't want to get her hopes up, but she was sure her enthusiasm was obvious enough. After finishing breakfast, the ladies got back into the car and started the drive back across town, towards the studio for the work day. As they drove, Michelle texted Eliza, telling her about Bea's ideas about the potential live show but to also keep it under her hat, to which Eliza, much in character for herself, replied "I don't wear hats." Michelle snickered endlessly to herself about this. She loved this girl very much. The car eventually, about 15 minutes away from the studio, came to another red light, this time thanks to kids crossing the street, heading to school.

"You know," Michelle said, still texting Eliza, looking down at her phone, "if you ever wanted to do something with Eliza and me, the four of us could set up like a couples night. That could be fun. I know you're not super social, none of us really are, but-"

Michelle looked over at Bea and noticed she was staring intensely at something. She followed her line of sight to the kids crossing the street, and landing on a little girl, maybe 7 years old, walking by herself, a Beatrice Beagle backpack slung over her shoulders. This was recently released merch, and neither had seen it on the street yet, so it was exciting. At least...that's how Michelle saw it. Bea, on the other hand, felt something else entirely. The light turned green, but instead of continuing on their route, Bea turned and followed the path the little girl was taking.

"Uhhh..." Michelle said, "wh...what are ya doin?"

"We're gonna follow her to school," Bea said sternly.

"Okay, not creepy at all," Michelle replied, "why?"

But Bea wouldn't answer that. She was dead eyed, focused. Michelle went and quiet and shot a final text to Eliza.

                                                  "Beatrice has kidnapped me, if anything happens, I love you."

She was half kidding, but...sometimes it was hard to know with Bea.

                                                                                                             ***

Eliza heard her phone buzz and she smiled. She knew it was Michelle. She was the only person who texted her. She lifted the jewelers loupe from her eye and picked up her phone, turning the screen on and navigating to her messages where she read the last text, chuckling. The door to The Hole opened, and Eliza spun around in her chair, looking towards the visitor, who just happened to be Keagan of all people.

"Can I help you?" Eliza asked, as Keagan cautiously approached.

"Um," Keagan started, "uh, I...yeah. I need your help actually. Someone on the show asked me to create a character, a puppet, person of color, to represent the African American community on the series. So I...I came to you to ask if you'd...if you knew..."

"Creating characters isn't easy for everyone," Eliza said, "but when you live mostly in your fiction, it's the easiest thing in the world, so I would love to help!"

Keagan smiled, and nodded. She didn't know why she'd been so nervous. Eliza had never been anything but kind and willing to help. Keagan grabbed a nearby metal chair and picked it up, setting it down at Eliza's drafting table where she cleared some of her current work and started fresh with a new sheet and her charcoal sketch pencil. Eliza tapped her pencil a little bit, then turned and looked at Keagan before starting to draw.

"Something to note," Eliza said, lisping as she spoke, "is that the colors we pick on paper won't be the colors picked for thread. They're two entirely different spectrums. So try not to get too attached to whatever comes out in front of us, cause the final product will be SO much cooler."

Keagan nodded, listening, watching.

"I...I guess I just," Keagan started, "I didn't know what to do, cause I didn't wanna screw it up, you know? Representation is...it's....so dangerous to handle, even if you're the one being represented doing the representing. I didn't wanna piss off my people."

"When I was little," Eliza said, "I was watching a show, and on it, they had a character come visit the family. It was a cousin. It was what they called a 'very special episode', you know? Where they tackle heavy thematic aspects? Well, this cousin they had visit was mentally challenged, and the entire episode was everyone getting angry at her, until the very end, where they finally accepted her because she did something the right way, the 'normal' way. Sometimes representation can be worse than not having it."

"That's awful."

"It was," Eliza said, "cause, I...I thought I'd be seeing someone like me, but they weren't like me. They were....nothing like me. But I know that's how everyone sees me, and people like me, and it hurts."

Keagan felt like crying. She felt so bad for Eliza, and she didn't know how to show her appreciation for her. Instead, she put her hand on Eliza's shoulder and leaned over her, looking at the sketch of a cool looking girl, with braided hair and overalls with patches on them. Keagan liked what she saw, and patted Eliza's shoulder. If there was anyone who could help create true representation, it would be someone who was also under represented herself.

                                                                                                           ***

"Bea, we're, like...SUPER late," Michelle said, checking her watch, "we need to get to the studio. I have things to do, and I'm sure Liam is curious why-"

"We're following her," Bea repeated, "once she's at school, then we can go to work."

Michelle exhaled and shook her head. She looked down and sighed, checking her phone. No response from Eliza. They came to another crossing, red light, the car stopped. As they watched the little girl head across the street, they saw her trip and fall, before getting herself back up on her feet and continue along her way without even seeming remotely upset. She was traveling alone and seemed confident. Beatrice felt her heart rise in her chest. Michelle felt her phone buzz and she looked down at the phone, only to notice it was Liam texting.

"Liam wants to know where we are," she said.

"Tell him we're at breakfast," Bea said, and Michelle just did what she was told. After she sent the text, she looked back at Bea, whose face had lightened significantly, watching this little girl head to school, happy as ever. Michelle could sense a softness in her eyes that she'd never seen before, and it was something truly lovely. Almost like a mother watching their child take their first steps. Michelle decided then and there not to question again why Bea was doing what she was doing, and instead just enjoy being taken along for the ride. After a bit, they finally arrived at the elementary school, Mustang Elementary, where the little girl clearly attended. As she entered the school grounds and sat on a bench near the swings, waiting for school to start, Bea pulled over and parked the car, watching closely.

"Beatrice?" Michelle asked, "...what is this about?"

Beatrice then slowly opened the car door, slipped out of it and started walking towards the school. Michelle, not wanting to let her go alone, grabbed her cane and headed out with her. As they got closer to the fence that surrounded the school, Beatrice's eyes grew more intense.

"Bea? What's going on? Why are we doing this?" Michelle asked, but yet again, no answer came.

Finally they stopped, and Bea watched the little girl sit there and unzip her backpack before reaching inside and pulling out a book and a little snack container. She opened the container and started eating as she flipped the book cover to the side and began to read. Michelle looked from the girl to Bea, who now had tears streaming down her face, but wasn't making any audible crying noises. Michelle, with her free hand, reached over and grabbed Bea's, squeezing it tightly.

"...it's just nice," Bea whispered, "it's nice seeing children love her. Need her. It's nice to know that the merchandise isn't being bought for hipster adults who enjoy the aesthetic, but instead for the intended audience. The targeted audience. The ones who need it most. Beatrice was a source of comfort, and now I'm seeing others realize it too. When Liam first came to me with this idea, I was so confused by it. A backpack? Who needs a backpack? But sometimes school is the worst part of a childs day to day life. Maybe school is where they get bullied. Maybe they don't perform well academically. Maybe they have no friends. And maybe a backpack, featuring their favorite comfort character, is exactly what they need to help get them through the day. The strength one can draw from fiction, especially at such a young age, can sometimes save you in the hardest of times."

Michelle nodded slowly, listening, taking it all in. She squeezed Bea's hand, watching her cry a little bit harder. Michelle turned her eyes back to the little girl and thought about it, and how right Bea was. When she'd been sick, especially in the hospital as a child, Beatrice had been there for her, and now every child had that and that...that was a beautiful thing.

                                                                                                          ***

Keagan was pacing back and forth, twirling her hair while Eliza continued to add details and color to the sketches she had been coming up with. Keagan was thinking about kids shows she watched as a kid, and trying to come up with what shows had African American characters, and she had a hard time trying to come up with anything. She stopped and leaned against the wall, chewing on her lip while she twirled her hair and was lost in thought. Eventually she heard the clicking sound of Eliza setting her drafting pencil down on the table and stretching, yawning.

"Are you done?" Keagan asked, and Eliza shrugged.

"You can tell me," Eliza said, causing Keagan to walk back over to the table and look at the drawings. She was thrilled with what she saw. Advancements on the original design, but still keeping it true to what they'd initially come up with conceptually. The character was black, that was clear even without skin tone, but it wasn't so overtly black that it'd be overplaying tropes. They were just a black puppet, nothing more, nothing less.

"This is wonderful," Keagan said, "thank you so much. I love that they just are. There's no...no gimmicks to it. You know, sometimes things go over the top with representation. They're like 'oh if we introduced an Asian character they have to be good with technology or smart with numbers!' and it's just...those are traits, certainly, but not defining ones. They're a person first and foremost. Not a bag of concepts. I like this. They're just a person."

"A puppet," Eliza remarked.

"Well, you know what I mean," Keagan replied, laughing, "thank you Eliza. When do you think we can start working on it?"

"Well, I need to get the right color thread, so maybe we can go shopping sometime this week. Once we have the supplies I can get to work on it immediately," Eliza said, "...any ideas for a name?"

Keagan looked at it hard for a long time, thinking, and then smiled.

"Serena," she said.

"That's pretty," Eliza said, smiling, "where'd you come up with that?"

"Just a name," Keagan replied.

                                                                                                      ***

Bea and Michelle never made it to work that afternoon.

Now, instead, sitting in a little cafe near the school, eating pastries and sipping tea, Beatrice and Michelle were both thinking back to the days events. Or, event, rather, since they only did one thing. Michelle picked up a donut and took a bite from it as Bea leaned back in her chair, looking out the window, slowly sipping from her mug. Michelle chewed for a bit, then set the donut back down and sighed.

"Are you okay?" she asked. Beatrice didn't even respond verbally, she just shrugged; Michelle continued, "cause, if you're not okay, Bea, we can talk about it. I'd like to talk about it. Cause it was...weird."

"I'm weird," Bea mumbled.

"Yeah, but you're good weird. This was just weird. Talk to me, please."

A long moment passed, and Michelle sighed again, knowing her efforts were all for naught. She shrugged, picked the donut back up and started eating again. That's when she noticed tears coming down Bea's face, as she wiped them casually away with her sweater sleeve. Michelle furrowed her brow, but didn't push conversation and instead just sat back, waiting for Bea to speak, which she finally did.

"I've made mistakes," Bea said quietly, "things I can't take back or undo. Things that can't be forgiven. So I try so hard to do right, and make good, and help others. I didn't come from a broken home. That isn't how I learned to appreciate life through art, was by escaping into it and finding solace within the imaginary. I came from loving parents who supported my every whim no matter how ridiculous it might've been at the time. So I'm happy that I can maybe help other kids who don't have it as well feel safe and seen. But at the same time, maybe those kids are happy. Maybe they have good lives too. Everyone is so adament on the belief that art, and thus appreciation of it, can only truly come from inner turmoil. But why can't things be born from joy? Why can't things be birthed by love? Why must everything we consider to be important be tinged with sadness? Sometimes art can heal, and be a meaningful window into the soul, and sometimes a painting of a sailboat has no deeper metaphor. Sometimes someone just wanted to paint a sailboat."

Michelle nodded, chewing, listening, as Bea took another long sip and exhaled, wiping her face again on her sweater sleeve.

"And that's what's beautiful, is that dichotomy. It can be both. Because art is whatever it's seen as, by the one perceiving it. One child might see Beatrice Beagle as a bastion of comfort, the only source of love in their life. Someone who can help guide them into understanding these complicated feelings when the rest of the world has let them down. And then one child might just see a backpack."

Michelle felt her eyes tear up, and she reached across the table and held Bea's hand, causing her to finally look at Michelle and smile weakly.

"It's hard, you know, to separate the concept of what an artist is from the artist themselves. You become so wrapped up within your own identity as a brand that you forget you were a person first. That's something I'm trying very hard to do, is be a person again. I had a life before Beatrice, and I'll have a life after. It isn't WHO I am. It's just a PART of who I am. Never forget that, Michelle," Bea said, "never forget where you came from, or where you might be going. Art can come from you, but it's never fully you. And that's a good thing."

Michelle knew Bea had complicated feelings about her status in regards to artistry, commercialism and the whole shpiel, but it was nice to have it clarified a bit more. And as someone who made things for a living, albeit props, Michelle was happy to be given this advice by someone else in the field whom she so much admired. Eliza probably had been told this as well, she figured. Michelle might not be a little girl anymore, but it seemed Beatrice Beagle still had a lot to teach her about life.

And she was willing to listen.

                                                                                                               ***

Michelle sighed as she pulled her coat off and slopped it over the back of the dining table chair, sitting down in it and watching Delores begin to season some meat. Delores glanced at her and smiled, which made Michelle smile back.

"Did you have a good day at work?" Delores asked.

"I actually never made it to work," Michelle replied, "Beatrice got sidetracked, and we spent the whole day doing something else entirely."

Delores stopped what she was doing, wrapped the meat in foil, then slid the baking tray into the oven and turned to look a Michelle as she wiped her hands down on her apron. Their eyes locked, but neither one said anything. Then Michelle started sniffling, and Delores walked over to her, pulled her apron off and tossed it on the counter and pulled Michelle's head against her tummy, stroking her hair.

"I had a really weird day," Michelle whispered.

"Life is full of weird days, pumpkin," Delores said, "but sometimes it's the weird days that make life make the most sense."

Michelle nodded, listening, understanding, agreeing. If there was one thing Delores was great at, it was taking a bad situation and turning it on its head to see the positives. Michelle had to admire that, and it was a trait she was trying to pick up herself. She shut her eyes and relaxed. She'd worry more about things tomorrow. Tonight, right now, she just needed to be. And that was a luxury she was grateful to have, that she recognized not everyone else got. Maybe Delores was right. Life was in fact full of weird days.

And she loved those days the best.

Casey Kochawski stepped through the doors leading to the back area for performers and tugged at the Beatrice head, pulling it off her and letting her long jet black hair fall over her shoulders. She exhaled and then set the head down on a nearby table before going to her locker and opening, reaching inside and, finding a small bag, pulled out a bottle of pills. She gripped them in her fist and headed to the bathroom, shutting the door and locking them behind herself before laying out three pills on the sink countertop and started to crush them. Once they were pressed into a fine powder, she leaned down and snorted them up her nose, almost screaming from the burning. Casey looked at herself in the mirror and smiled. The lights, the noise, the kids...it was all too much for her to handle, but the pay was good, and hey...

...who didn't want to be an icon?

Or at the very least a fascimile of one?

Casey exited, put the pills back away in the locker and then, grabbing the head off the table, pulled it back on over her head before grabbing the door handle and exiting, back out into the chaos of the newly opened Beatrice Pizzera.

                                                                                                           ***

Michelle knelt down, best she could, looking at a dog through the kennel bars until she felt Eliza's hand on her shoulder and she glanced back up, blushing and shaking her head. They had been through this song and dance a thousand times in the last few months it seemed like. They would come here after work three or four times a week, look at the various dogs for an allotted amount of time and then eventually head home without making any kind of decision. Or rather, Eliza would drop Michelle back off at Delores's before heading to her fathers. Sometimes they would extend the outing into the evening, include a late dinner with it, but mostly it was looking at dogs.

And the routine was exactly the same tonight it seemed. After the trip to the kennel, they went out to dinner and then Eliza dropped Michelle off at home before returning to her fathers. Entering the house, Michelle could smell the sweet scents of Delores baking, as she tended to do when she had free time; this time, she was hit by the wafting sensation of what smelt like cinnamon rolls. Michelle walked into the cane, steadying herself on her cane, before noticing she was right about her intution. Delores was there, putting the icing on various trays of cinnamon rolls, and when their eyes met, she beamed like a proud mother.

"How did it go?" she asked as Michelle took a seat at the dinner table.

"Eh," she replied, shrugging, "I just don't know that I'm ever going to find the right one."

"Picking out a dog is a lot of work," Delores said, handing Michelle a warm fresh roll before taking one for herself and sitting down across from her, biting into it and speaking while chewing; "but think about the loving that will come as a result. You're not picking out a pet, you're picking out a friend, just remember that."

"It also feels so...official," Michelle said, causing Delores to raise an eyebrow in confusion until Michelle exhaled and elaborated, pushing her bangs from her eyes, almost blushing, "like...between Eliza and I. It makes this feel so much deeper and...I don't know...real."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Oh, no, not at all, no. All I ever wanted was to have someone love me, and to love someone else, romantically, and if anything, she's kind of perfect for me. It's just...weird is all, I guess. Never thought it would happen. Being disabled kind of made me believe I wasn't able to do a lot of things, or, was going to get a lot of things. Never thought I'd have a real job, especially not one in a field that interested me like I do now. Never thought I'd have a social life of any kind. Definitely never thought I'd find love."

Delores smiled, finished eating her roll and then, after wiping her hands on a small towel, reached across the table and touched Michelle's hands.

"Just recognize it for what it is and don't make it more than it should be," Delores said, "and what I mean by that is enjoy it, but don't put your entire self worth on it. On any of it, especially romance. So many things are so easily broken. But for the time being, yes, be happy."

Delores then stood up and went back to the oven to continue baking, leaving Michelle to think about what she'd said, and wondering how Eliza felt about their situation. Perhaps she'd ask her tomorrow at work.

                                                                                                         ***

Keagan was lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling when Lexi entered the apartment. She hung up her coat, tossed her purse and keys on the nearby table, and then noticed Keagan. She stopped at the couch and leaned over, kissing her on the forehead before waving daintily at her.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I got...asked something today," Keagan said, "from someone on the show. I got asked...if I could create a black character. Give the ideas to Eliza, she can make a puppet, introduce it on upcoming episodes, all that. I guess I'm like the token black person on the production team, so. But still, weird."

"Are you not okay with that?" Lexi asked, coming around the side of the couch as Keagan lifted her legs up so she could sit, Keagan plopping her legs back down on Lexi's lap once she was seated; Lexi began massaging her feet and followed up with, "I mean, does that sort of thing make you feel uncomfortable?"

"It's just a lot of responsibility having to create something that's supposed to represent an entire personhood. Representation is so important these days, I don't wanna be the one to fuck that up, you know? I don't...I don't wanna do it wrong and have some young black girl feel bad about herself because of the way the character I helped create was portrayed or something."

Lexi nodded, listening. She pushed her hair back behind her ears, cleared her throat and sighed.

"Listen, I'm not black, so I'm not gonna fully get it, but I hear your frustration, your worries, and you have every reason to feel that way. That being said, I don't see how you could screw it up. I don't see how you could, by any means, do something harmful. Just create the kind of character you would've wanted to see when you were a kid, you know? That's the goal. Because I guarantee whatever you wanted then is what someone else wants now," Lexi said, and Keagan nodded, as Lexi laid down on top of her on the couch, making her laugh. Keagan started running her hands through Lexi's silky blonde hair as she buried her face in Keagan's neck.

"You're really good at calming people down, you know that?" Keagan asked.

"I contemplated going into clinical psychology, but ultimately I figured if I can barely take care of my own brain, who would trust me to take care of theirs," Lexi replied, the both of them cracking up.

                                                                                                       ***

"Can I take you to lunch?" Michelle asked, surprising Eliza in The Hole. She was sitting at her drafting table, sketching something, when Michelle entered, and she'd jumped at the surprise so much that her glasses nearly slid off her face. Once she managed to get them put back on and turned in her chair to properly face Michelle, who was near laughing, Eliza looked embarrassed; Michelle continued, "I'm...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...I just wanna take you to lunch. Can we go to lunch?"

Eliza nodded slowly, and stood up as Michelle gripped her coat from the back of her chair and helped her put it on. The two walked outside and headed down the street to a nearby Asian soup restaurant, a small place nestled away between bigger, more popular venues, but a place they loved dearly regardless of its popularity. Once inside, and seated at their booth, Michelle looked across the table at Eliza who was cleaning her glasses off.

"So," Michelle said, "I need to-"

"It's okay," Eliza said, "you don't have to come up with explanations. It's okay if you want to end it."

Michelle was taken by surprise, unable to find words to respond with. She laughed, nervously, and shook her head.

"What? Why...why would I-"

"Because they all do," Eliza said, pushing her big frames back on her face and blinking rapidly a few times, "because eventually they all realize I'm too much, or too much work, or too much effort or I need too much help or...or whatever. Until I met you, I never really cared much, cause I didn't really understand it anyway. I just was happy people liked me, but I never felt the same way towards them. Yeah, it hurts having people leave, repeatedly, but it wasn't a big deal. But this one's gonna hurt, cause I actually think I understand what love is now and what it's supposed to feel like now and so to lose you is gonna-"

Michelle quickly grabbed Eliza's hands and squeezed, laughing.

"Eliza, take a breath, I'm not leaving you, jeez," she said, "I'm not...I'd never..." and it dawned on her how much she meant that as she said it, "...I'd never leave you. I just wanted to talk to you about the dog stuff. Cause, like, we've been having so much trouble deciding on anything and I just wanted to know if you had any preferences or anything."

Eliza looked down at the table and bit her lip. She felt so embarrassed and Michelle could tell. Michelle got up and slid into the booth beside Eliza, touching her face, causing Eliza to recoil even more.

"I'm sorry," Eliza whispered, "I'm sorry that I'm so paranoid I jump immediately to the worst conclusions. I just thought...I just thought you might..."

"Listen," Michelle said, pushing gently on Eliza's face so she would look at her, as she added, "listen, okay? I can't see any kind of future without you in it, okay? I spent so much of my life afraid to be with anyone because I just didn't think I'd live long enough, and I didn't wanna put whoever I was with through that, but now that I am not gonna die, and now that there is a future ahead of me, that future includes you for as long as you want to be in it. I have absolutely no intention of ever leaving you. You're...perfect."

Eliza blushed and looked down at her hands nervously.

"I just wanted your help picking a dog," Michelle said, laughing, causing Eliza to laugh as well before she looked up and pressed her lips against Michelle's, kissing her longingly, taking Michelle by happy surprise; after the kiss broke, Eliza giggled.

"I like dalmations myself," Eliza said.

                                                                                                          ***

"I tell ya," Liam said, looking at his pizza slice, "it's weird to be in a kids eatery that actually cares about the quality of the food."

"Well that was the biggest letdown, wasn't it?" Bea asked, "I mean, let's face it, every single place you've ever gone that was designed for kids, that sells food, has awful food. That pizzeria was terrible. I refused to let myself fall prey to the same issues. That's why I worked extra hard to find excellent chefs."

Liam picked up his mug of root beer and took a long sip, before setting it back down and belching, causing Bea to smirk.

"You're letting your hair go grey," Bea said.

"Yeah," Liam said, running his hand through it, "yeah, Marvin always said he liked it better that way, and why run from aging, right? Embrace the inevitability of the eventual eternal slumber."

"God you're a bummer," Bea remarked, the both of them laughing, until they looked to the side of the table and noticed a woman standing there in street clothes, but holding a Bea costume head under her arm. Bea and Liam exchanged a glance, and then finally Bea broke the silence, asking, "uh...can I help you?"

"I...I work here, I'm...one of the Beatrices in costume," Casey said, "uh, my name is Casey Kochawski."

Casey stuck her hand out, and Bea and Liam both shook it, somewhat cautiously.

"Do you need something?" Bea asked, and Casey grinned like an idiot.

"I just...I'm a huge fan," Casey said, "and...and that was why I wanted this job, and when I saw you here, you like NEVER come in, and so I just...I had to say hello because you're, like, my hero. Like...I wanna be an artist, but I just...I can't seem to make it happen, and I'm so tired of trying and getting nowhere, but then I think about you, and like how you went away for so long and then came back to great success and I don't know it's kind of inspirational."

"Well I'm happy to be an inspiration," Beatrice said, just as Stephanie approached the table and seated herself, sighing.

"Hello," Stephanie said politely to Casey, who almost paid her no mind at all.

"Um," Casey said, scrambling to get something from her pocket, "this...this is....uh....I drew this, for you. I'm sorry."

And with that, Casey turned quickly and raced off to the back area to get in costume. Bea took the paper that had been placed in front of her and unfolded it, while Stephanie picked up Liam's mug and took a long drink from it before smacking her lips.

"That girl's on drugs," Steph said.

"You think?" Liam asked.

"Yeah, speed, definitely," Steph said, "I know, I used to take that back in college to help get me through long nights."

"Hey hey, you freeloader!" Liam said, annoyed, as he just noticed Stephanie holding his drink and took it back from her; he then turned his eye back to Bea and asked, nodding towards her, "what did she give you?"

"Just a drawing," Bea said, smiling to herself.

                                                                                                           ***

After lunch, the girls went back to the studio and Eliza went back to work in The Hole while Michelle did some general set work, fixing up props and whatnot on stage. After work, Michelle offered to drive Eliza home, but instead drove to Delores's. Sitting outside the house in the parked car, Michelle breathed nervously as Eliza adjusted her glasses and then looked at Michelle, confused.

"Why are we here?" she asked.

"Delores isn't here tonight," Michelle said, "and...I don't know, I didn't wanna be here alone, so I thought maybe you could stay over. Nothing...nothing, you know...but we could just spend time together and...and cuddle. I don't want to be alone, and after lunch today I want to kind of prove how much I like having you in my life."

Eliza blushed. Nobody had ever taken this much interest in her, and she felt so special.

"I...I felt weird...creepy...liking you because I'm older than you, I thought people might look at me like I'm a weirdo," Eliza said, "but I'd also never felt anything like that before, and...and I'm glad you're not leaving but I'm also glad you're not asking for more."

Michelle raised an eyebrow, curious, but not replying, allowing Eliza the room to speak.

"Um," Eliza said, her voice lowering, "I'm older than you by at least a decade, but...well...oh this is embarrassing."

"I assure you, nothing about you could be halfway as embarrassing as my entire life," Michelle replied, laughing, which made Eliza feel a little more at ease. Eliza adjusted her frames and exhaled, putting her hands in her lap.

"Okay," she said, "Um...I'm very happy with you. I like this. I like all of it. I don't want it to end. But I also don't want it to change. At least in how, uh, we relate to intimacy, if that makes sense? Because, like I said, I know I'm at least a decade older than you, but I'm...a virgin. And...and it isn't because the opportunity never came up or because nobody was never interested or anything but...the idea of that much intimacy scares me. It confuses me. I don't like it. That's being way too close. I don't...I don't really experience sexual attraction, and I don't think I ever want to."

Michelle nodded, listening, taking it all in. She had had no intentions of sleeping with Eliza tonight, but this gave her more insight into the woman she called her girlfriend, and honestly, she appreciated it. She carefully reached out and put a hand on Eliza's shoulder, causing her to cautiously look up at her.

"We never have to do anything you don't want to, and honestly that doesn't matter to me anyway, I just like spending time with you," Michelle said, making Eliza sniffle. Eliza leaned in, resting her head against Michelle's chest, as she stroked Eliza's hair. It wasn't a typical relationship; one woman had health problems, the other was mentally disabled. One woman was at least a decade older than the other. And yet, within their differences, they found solace and companionship and acceptance. From the outside looking in, things might seem weird and out of place, but to the two of them, whose viewpoints mattered most, life was just perfect. So they went inside and they watched TV and they ate ice cream and eventually Eliza fall asleep on the couch with her head in Michelle's lap, and as she watched Eliza breath gently in her sleep, Michelle couldn't help but feel that maybe picking out a dog wasn't so hard after all.

Not if you have the right person to help you.

                                                                                                            ***

Beatrice shut and locked her door - she always locked her apartment door - when she got home that evening. She pulled her peacoat off and hung it on the coat rack by the door before heading into the kitchen, where she yanked open the fridge and pulled out a ginger ale in a glass bottle. Leslie wouldn't be coming here tonight, she was working late and when she worked late she often went to her own place afterwards, so Bea had the whole apartment to herself for the time being. As she unscrewed the cap from the bottle and took a long drink, her mind wandered back to the girl who had given her the drawing earlier that afternoon.

Beatrice set the bottle down on the counter and wiped her mouth on her sleeve, then walked back to the coat rack and fished the folded up drawing from the pocket of her peacoat, taking it back to the kitchen where she leaned against the counter and looked at it for a bit, smiling. It was down in a childlike manner, but was clearly done in a professional way, as if she were attempting to immitate a child drawing something. Beatrice had to admit, she thought this girl had some real talent. She then went back to the fridge, pulled a spare magnet from its surface and placed the picture on the fridge, plopping the magnet down atop it to keep it in place.

The picture showed a little girl - presumably the artist - at Beatrice's doghouse, reading a book while Beatrice gnawed on a bone. One of the things Bea liked about it was that a lot of the fan art she was presented with often portrayed Beatrice as the walking talking persona they saw on the show, but this girl, Casey, had done the opposite. She'd just drawn a dog. Bea loved that. She put her hand on the paper momentarily, sniffling, before backing away, gripping her glass bottle back in her hand, and heading to the bedroom.

Art wasn't dead. Sometimes it was dormant. But it was never dead.

It had been a month since Michelle and Beatrice had undergone surgery together.

While Beatrice had her own apartment to stay in, and had Leslie to care for her, Michelle didn't want to burden Keagan and Lexi any further than she already felt like she had, and so when Delores insisted Michelle stay with her from now on, she couldn't refuse. They made up her guest bedroom as Michelle's bedroom, and Delores took a brief leave of absence from her job in order to help Michelle regain her strength. The surgery had gone as well as anyone could've hoped, and both women came through just fine. For a while in the first two weeks, Eliza would bring small puzzles she and Michelle could do together, simply so she would have company. Liam stopped by Bea's now and then - either to give her news about the office or in regards to the show - and of course to visit her. Sitting on the bed with her while she clipped coupons, Liam couldn't help but chuckle.

"What?" Bea asked, looking up from cutting.

"This reminds me of living back in the city," Liam said, "you know, when we first met, first started working together. We used to have to do this kind of thing all the time cause we were so poor."

"I still do it just cause it's calming," Bea said, "even if I don't intend to use the coupons, it's nice to clip them. Keeps me humble."

Liam laughed as he cut another one out and placed it on the stack on the bed. He then set his scissors down and looked at Bea, who smiled at him. She was appreciative of having him here when Leslie was at work. It was a nice month for both women, and each was somewhat saddened when their relaxation time eventually came to an end. But for Michelle, living with Delores was like a dream come true. Delores made dinner every night - and when she didn't she simply ordered in - and treated Michelle like her own daughter, something Michelle's own mother had never done. In a way, she was getting the childhood she'd never had, and it healed her a little more.

All in all, things were pretty good, and the future had never looked brighter.

                                                                                                             ***

"When do you think you'll be ready to come back to work?" Beatrice asked.

Bea had come and picked Michelle up and taken her to lunch. Sitting at a table in the corner of the outdoor patio, each one eating their lunch, it was the first time either had seen the other since the surgery. It was nice. It felt like old times, like all the problems Michelle used to have had never existed. But she also knew she was lucky, and there were plenty of people who never got the funds, nor the donors necessary to survive such a situation.

"I don't know," Michelle said, picking lettuce from her teeth, "probably soon. Nothing against Eliza, but I'm getting a little tired of doing puzzles nonstop."

Bea chuckled as she bit into her sandwich and chewed. Michelle picked up her drink and sipped from her straw, then pushed her hair from her face and looked at Bea.

"Can I ask you a question?" Michelle asked.

"Only always, love," Bea replied.

"...uh...I don't really know how to ask this without sounding like a confused teenager, but..." Michelle started, "um...how do you know if you have feelings for someone? I never...I guess...I've never really felt anything for anyone, cause I've always been..."

Beatrice put her sandwich down and listened as Michelle pulled her hair up into a ponytail and sighed.

"Okay, so, when you have something that can kill you, I guess you don't make long term plans, you know? Cause why would you bother? You never even know if you'll BE here next year, right? So I never really pursued a relationship of any kind because, well, I just never figured it was worth the pain," Michelle said, "so I don't really know how it feels to care about someone in that way, or even if they feel that way for you, or how to approach it if you both do or anything."

Bea chuckled and sat back in her chair, sipping her iced tea, stirring the cubes in her glass.

"Well," Beatrice said, "I guess, if you feel something for them, you recognize they're feelings you've never had before. If it's something you've never felt, then it's likely something new. Something real. Is there someone you're feeling this way for in particular?"

Michelle fidgeted, but after a moment she shook her head.

"No," she said quietly, "just curious."

                                                                                                        ***

"I tell you, a little charity in this industry goes a long way," Stephanie said, sitting behind her desk at the office as Liam sat in front of her; Steph continued, saying, "like, that whole kerfuffle about her sexuality? Gone in the blink of an eye because she helped save her friend. You can't buy press that good."

"Yes you can," Liam said.

"Okay, well, not easily," Stephanie said, "honestly, I'm proud of her. She didn't do what she did to look good, she did it out of the kindness of her heart. That level of wholesomeness in show business is rarely seen. Beatrice is truly a genuinely good person."

Liam sighed and leaned forward, cupping his hands.

"Uh oh, that's never a good position," Steph said, smirking.

"We need to renegotiate," Liam said.

"I don't know what else Beatrice could be given, I mean, she has-"

"No, not for Bea. For Michelle," Liam said, sighing and running his hands over his face before adding, "we need to give her more. A lot more. Beatrice is right. If Michelle, and Keagan as well, hadn't gotten together and tracked her down, tracked me down...none of us would be here right. We're sitting on a success story because of two women who barely get any acknowledgement for their part in said success story. That just doesn't sit well with me. I want them made Executive Producers, and given more money."

Stephanie was surprised to hear Liam state his demands so sternly, as he'd always sounded rather flexible. Yet, he did have a point. Those girls were single handedly responsible for bringing Beatrice and the crew out of hiding and back into the spotlight in a way they never thought they'd see.

"Well," Steph said, "let's bring them both in soon, when Michelle's up to it, and see what they have to say. I'm not against it. But I'd like to hear if they have any other kind of demands or whatever. Nice of you to go to bat for them."

"I've been going to bat for creative women my whole life it seems like," Liam said, leaning back and crossing his legs, "god knows what I'd do if I stopped. I might have to find a new hobby."

Stephanie laughed and nodded. Beatrice had always insisted Liam was integral, and now Stephanie understood what Beatrice had meant when she'd said that.

                                                                                                      ***

Eliza was sitting in The Hole, at her work desk, doing draft work when she heard the door open behind her. Expecting their craft services girl to be bringing her lunch, she waved at them over her shoulder but didn't turn to look, so she was a bit surprised when she instead saw Michelle standing there, leaning on her cane. Eliza pulled her glasses up, completely taken aback to see her here. Michelle smiled and looked down at the table.

"What are you doing?" Michelle asked.

"Uh, oh, just...um...some drawings for potential new puppets for next year," Eliza said, "you know, for when we start shooting again. I figure, ya know, that the sooner I do my part, then the easier it'll make production once it starts up again."

"Sound thinking," Michelle said.

"I'm not used to seeing you without your canula," Eliza said, pointing at her own nose, "I...I got so used to seeing a oxygen mask or a tank or something around you, that it's actually kinda weird not to now."

"Well, I guess I could just carry one around as an accessory," Michelle replied, the both of them giggling; she tossed her ponytail and knelt down by Eliza's chair, looking at her warmly as she asked, "...thank you for being there. Both in the hospital, and when I was in recovery. I really needed someone, and you were there. I know that I wouldn't be here without Beatrice's donation, or Lexi's money, but I don't think you got the credit you deserved, and I wanted you to know just how much I appreciated that."

Eliza chewed on her lip, and nodded slowly.

"You're such a warm and loving person, and I really don't know how I would've gotten through it all emotionally if I hadn't had your support, so thank you," Michelle said.

"Well, I...I wasn't about to lose someone else," Eliza said, stuttering a bit, "when I lost my mom, I felt so bad and I've never really stopped feeling bad, so I...I wanted to make sure that didn't happen again. God that sounds selfish, that's...that's not really how I meant it."

"I know," Michelle said, laughing, "I know it isn't, but I understand. I just came by to see people on set and stuff, so I should get going, but we should hang out later or sometime this week or whatever."

Michelle stood back up and patted Eliza on the shoulder before turning and heading back towards the door to The Hole. Suddenly she heard a chair scoot across the floor and heard Eliza shouting after her.

"Don't go," she said loudly.

Michelle stopped and turned, looking back at her. Eliza was standing now, shaking like she was nervous, tugging at her long braid anxiously. Neither one spoke again as they stared at one another. Michelle wasn't sure why Eliza had stopped her, but she was curious to see if Eliza said anything else, so she waited.

"I...I don't want you to go," Eliza said, "um...because I've never met someone who wanted to be...who was nice like this...who...I liked visiting you. You never make fun of me. You never question or judge me. We just can do puzzles together, and you like my trains, and I...I have felt so stupid for so much of my life, and yet...when...when you're...when you're with me I feel smart, and I feel like...like what I say and think matters and means something and...you make me...you make me feel...good. Just...genuinely good. I feel like I lost my place in the world when my mother died, and when I'm with you, it's like I suddenly have a place again."

Michelle stared at Eliza, unsure of how to respond. She chewed on her lip and waited to see if she would continue. Eliza stuttered, as if trying to form another sentence, but was unable to. She finally, tugging hard on her braid, looked at her shoes and whispered.

"You make the world make sense," she said, "and to someone like me, to whom nothing makes sense...that means the most."

Michelle smiled, and let go of the doorknob. The door to The Hole swung shut again as she started to walk back towards Eliza, who stumbled backwards, leaning against her drafting desk. Michelle leaned against her, their faces mere inches apart. Eliza could feel Michelle's breath on her skin, and then felt her hand run up on her neck. Michelle held Eliza's face in her hand and shut her eyes. What could she say? She'd never felt like this before. She'd never once felt anything for anyone, because she'd never allowed herself to. What words could she find to respond? Eliza had found the words, so surely she could as well?

"Are you gonna kiss me?" Eliza finally asked, her voice a quaky feminine whisper.

"I'd like to," Michelle responded, breathing heavily, nervous.

"I'd like you to," Eliza replied, making Michelle blush.

Michelle, as it turned out, didn't need to find the words. Instead she pushed her lips against Eliza's and kissed her in a way she'd never kissed anyone before. She kissed her with a level of adoration she'd never felt, and while kissing her, she realized what she'd let herself miss this whole time. She'd denied herself the option to love because she was afraid she wouldn't live long enough to appreciate it, or she would hurt someone by dying, but now she realized that simply loving was worth it regardless of the circumstances. Eliza leaned back on her drafting desk, Michelle putting her knee up on one side of it, almost mounting her, kissing her. After she finally pulled away, neither Eliza nor Michelle could speak.

They stayed that way, breathless, wordless, for what felt like an hour. Finally Eliza smiled and hugged her, crying. Michelle hugged her back, squeezing tightly. Michelle got pleasure from her work, no doubt. But the best thing the show had ever given her was Eliza, and she refused to ever let that go now.

                                                                                                      ***

Beatrice had the place to herself for a change.

Leslie was at work, Liam was busy negotiating contracts for the new set of episodes to be produced, and so for the first time in weeks, Beatrice was alone. She'd need to have her therapy at some point - both physical and mental - but for the moment, she just embraced being alone in her apartment again. She figured, since she had the time and, for once, the energy, she would go through her closet and clear some things out. Beatrice pulled some boxes down, as she did, an envelope slid off the top of it and landed at her feet. Beatrice furrowed her brow, confused at what it could be. She set the boxes down and then sat on them, grabbing the large envelope. As she unlatched and slid its contents out, it dawned on her what she had come across, and she immediately put them back in. These were papers she didn't want to see. These were papers she wanted to forget about.

Beatrice sighed and wiped at her teary eyes with her sweater sleeve. She never wanted to revisit that day if she could help it. It had been - aside from Beatrice's death - the single hardest day of her life. Hell, even thinking about it made her want to break down. She didn't need to dwell on it. She had people now. She had friends and family, and young women to look out for. She didn't need to drag herself back into her past and revisit something she never had any chance to change as it is. She looked at the envelope again and chewed her nails. Then, she stood up, walked to a small jar on a tiny table by the couch and pulled out a sharpie. She went back, sat back down and picked the envelope back up, placing it in her lap. She pulled the cap off the sharpie with her teeth and started writing on the envelopes face.

                                                                                               "Claire B-G."

When she was done, she looked at it, and nodded. That was all she had to write, really. The name alone would indicate to her what the envelope meant, and to never touch it again. She tucked the envelope back into the closet, back into the darkness, hiding it from herself once more. She just hoped, more than anything, that Claire would forgive her if she knew. She hadn't been able to take care of someone then, but she was able to save Michelle now, and she figured that more than made up for her regrets.

Beatrice then shut the closet door.

Michelle was lying in a hospital bed, where it seemed she spent a majority of her time these days, when she heard the door to the room open and saw Eliza slink in. Michelle put her magazine down and smiled as Eliza quietly shut the door behind her and approached the bed. Eliza pulled a chair up to the bed and sat down, as Michelle put her magazine face down, but still open, on her lap.

"I brought you breakfast," Eliza said, handing Michelle a styrofoam cup and a then, after opening up a small, brown bag, she pulled out a few breakfast sandwiches and handed her one. Michelle unwrapped it and immediately began chowing down ferociously; Eliza giggled and said, "wow, I didn't know you were that hungry."

"You know that bit comedians do about airline food?" Michelle asked, mouth half full of breakfast sandwich, "...hospital food is somehow worse."

"Maybe the quality of food is directly proportional to where you're consuming it," Eliza said, shrugging.

"I doubt that," Michelle said, "if that were true, 'home cooking' would be good regardless of how terrible your home life is."

Just then the door opened again, and this time Delores entered. She smiled at the girls as she shut the door behind her and approached the bed.

"Hello Eliza," Delores said, patting her on the shoulder as she stood beside the bed, "I see you brought food."

"She's my hero," Michelle said, mouth half full of sandwich, "someone give her a medal."

"The doctor is on their way in, so you should probably finish that as quick as possible," Delores said, "they probably won't like seeing you eat that sort of thing in a place designated for protecting your health. Be like eating a giant cookie in front of a dentist."

"I don't care," Michelle said, taking a sip from her cup, "I'm just happy to eat anything that doesn't make me feel any sicker than I already do. Eliza, you're the best."

Eliza looked downwards, hiding her blushing cheeks, not wanting to be embarrassed. Anytime Michelle complimented her, she couldn't help but feel like a giddy child. Regardless of whether she ever felt the same way for her as Eliza felt for Michelle, she didn't care. She was just pleased enough making Michelle feel even the slightest bit better at the lowest time of her life.

                                                                                                              ***

Meanwhile, in the hallway across the hospital, Beatrice was on her way towards Michelle's room. She hadn't meant to take the long way around, but she'd accidentally parked on the wrong side of the hospital, and now she needed to walk through the entire hospital to reach her. Bea checked her watch and sighed, shaking her head. She'd only been up for an hour, and had thrown on whatever she could find easily around the bedroom. She hadn't even brushed her hair, for god sakes, and she was still expected at the studio at some point today after this.

As she walked past a room, she heard the sound of her own voice on, and stopped. Bea backed up and peered into the room, seeing the Beatrice Beagle show playing on the television bolted into the corner of the ceiling; her eyes then wandered from the TV to the little girl lying in the bed, hugging the Beatrice Beagle doll. Bea smiled and entered the room, standing by the bed and watching the show with the girl. The girl, Ashley Harding, looked up to Bea and waved, making Bea wave back.

"You like Beatrice?" Bea asked, and Ashley nodded; Bea smirked, adding, "so do I. She's smart and she's brave. She's the best dog."

"She makes me feel safe," Ashley said quietly, "whenever I'm here, I always have her on the TV, or have my doll, and she makes me feel safe. I'm not as scared when I have her."

"Dogs are good like that," Bea said, "they're always here to help us through the worst times, so long as we give them love back. I think it's good that you have something like that. I'm glad she makes you feel safe, especially in such a scary place during such a scary time."

Ashley squeezed the doll to her chest, and Bea had to keep herself from openly crying. Instead she patted Ashley on the top of the head and smiled warmly.

"I'm sure Beatrice will be happy to see you get through this," she said, "you just stay brave, okay?"

Ashley nodded, and Bea nodded back at her before turning and exiting the room. Once back in the hallway, she leaned against the wall and started crying silently. Michelle was right. Beatrice belonged to everyone now, and she could no longer pretend this wasn't the case. The dog was for the world. Bea turned and put her back against the wall, covering her face with her hands and wiping her face free of tears. When she pulled her eyes away, she noticed Lexi and Keagan standing there.

"Oh," Bea said, quickly wiping her face on her sweater sleeve, "god, I'm...I'm sorry. Hi girls."

"Are you okay?" Keagan asked.

"As okay as one can be expected, given the circumstances," Bea replied, "what's going on?"

Keagan and Lexi exchanged a look and then Lexi sighed, approaching Bea.

"...I think I know what we can do to save her," Lexi said.

"...I'm listening," Bea said softly.

                                                                                                            ***

"I hope this doesn't qualify as a last meal," Michelle said, leaning back on her pillows as Delores adjusted them for her; she continued, "I mean, I could have worse, but I sure hope I get to have more meals. Still, even if it was, at least I went out on a high note."

Delores finished fixing the pillows, then excused herself to use the bathroom. Eliza looked down at her shoes and grimaced. Michelle reached over and touched her knee, causing Eliza to tense up and look away more.

"Are you okay?" Michelle asked.

"...I didn't...when my mom died, I didn't get to say anything to her," Eliza said, "and I always regretted that it happened so quickly because, ya know...there was no goodbye of any kind. In fact, the last thing we did was kinda argue. She probably died thinking I was mad at her. You never know when the last time you might talk to someone might be, and if that's the case, isn't it good to tell them something before you don't get the chance to?"

Eliza looked up at Michelle, who's head cocked to the side, curious, smiling at her. Eliza felt warm inside, like the sun was shining inside her. Eliza started to feel nervous, and began pulling some of her hair down to her mouth, chewing on it out of habit.

"You're my best friend, whatever it is you can talk to me about it, you know I won't judge you," Michelle said, and Eliza nodded slowly, cautiously, as if the mere act of nodding would somehow give away the secrets threatening to spill free from her lips like waves over an ocean breaker.

"...I think...um...I think I-" she began, when the door opened again, and Beatrice, Lexi and Keagan entered, interrupting.

"Michelle," Bea said, hurriedly approaching the bed and hugging her, "sweetheart, I can't believe I'm about to say this to you, but...everything's gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay. Lexi has a plan."

Lexi seated herself on the bed, and took one of Michelle's hand in her own.

"As you know, I recently got a lot of money from my fathers business," she said, "and, uh...for a bit I thought I'd be selfish, and use it to make my life better. Got a new car, wanted to get a new apartment, that sort of stuff. Still plan to do some of that, but that's beside the point, hah. But then you got sick, and I realized that the best thing I can do is help you instead. So...along with insurance from the company, I'm going to help cover the costs of a transplant surgery."

"A transplant? I don't even know anyone who would-"

"I'm going to," Beatrice whispered, kissing Michelle's hand, crying again but smiling, "I'm going to donate to you. We have the same blood type. I'm a bit older than you, obviously, but that's really the only hangup. Michelle, you gave my life back to me, so now I'm going to give your life back to you, okay? It's the least I could do for you dragging me out of that hole I called an existence in exile."

Michelle wanted to break down. Never once in her entire life had she experienced, nor expected, this level of generosity, especially not from someone she'd only known for almost two years. Beatrice was going to donate a lung to her? This seemed...insane. But, as Michelle had learned, sometimes insanity was all that worked. Eliza, likewise, couldn't believe her ears. Her jaw was full on dropped.

"Now we do have to run some tests first, obviously," Bea said, "and you can't eat or drink anything the day before, but it should be capable of being done in the next few days. We have the money, I'm a willing donor, there's no reason we can't expedite this process posthaste."

"...Beatrice," Michelle whispered, reaching up and hugging her, before turning and squeezing Lexi, whispering in her ear, "thank you so much. I'll find a way to repay you."

Lexi patted Michelle on the back.

"Just repay me by getting better," Lexi whispered back.

Michelle couldn't believe her luck. But what Bea had said to Ashley was true, and she knew it. A dog was there to help, protect and save, and that's exactly what she intended to do for Michelle, come hell or high water.

                                                                                                          ***

Liam entered Leslie's office, knocking on the door as he waltzed in. Leslie looked up, slightly irritated as she dropped her pen on the table and leaned back in her chair, folding her arms.

"What is the point of knocking if you're already entering?" she asked.

"To give the illusion of respect?" Liam asked, shrugging, making Leslie laugh.

"What do you want anyway?" she asked, picking her pen back up and going back to writing.

"Uh," Liam started, scratching the back of his head, "...I just got off the phone with Beatrice, she's at the hospital with Michelle and, well, basically everyone else. Um...I hate to be the one to tell you this, but...your girlfriend's gonna donate an organ."

Leslie stopped writing, then slowly looked up.

"She's WHAT?" she asked.

                                                                                                             ***

Leslie and Beatrice were standing in the living room of Leslie's apartment; Leslie was pacing back and forth furiously, flabbergasted at this admittance, while Beatrice was standing calmly by the couch, trying to easily explain her reasoning, and how there's no danger involved.

"First of all, I have to find this out from Liam-"

"Can I help it if he's a blabbermouth?" Beatrice asked, "I would've told you when we got home."

"-but then there's the fact that this is dangerous for you, and I...what if something goes wrong? What if she doesn't wake up, or you don't wake up, or something happens and both of you...it's too much to think about," Leslie said, putting her hand to her forehead and groaning, adding, "It's a noble, beautiful thing you're doing, but I can't...what if I lose you?"

"I'm sorry," Bea said, "but I can't just let her die. She doesn't have any family willing to donate, she doesn't have long enough to wait on a list. I can fix this, right here, right now. I can't just sit idly by and let her die because of fear. Everything I have right now, I owe to her and Keagan's adoration for what I built years ago. Including you. If they hadn't brought me out of retirement, I wouldn't...we wouldn't have..."

Bea sat down on the couch and covered her face, sighing. Leslie walked to the couch and sat beside her, putting her hands on Bea's knees.

"...I'm not going to stop you, obviously," Leslie said softly, "I'd never even think of asking you not to do it, that's just selfish. I just wish we could've discussed it more first or something. I wanna make sure you're going to be safe, and that you'll come through okay. You're older than she is. This could really put you out of commission for a bit."

"And if I don't, it could put Michelle out of commission forever," Bea whispered, reaching up and touching Leslie's face; she smiled warmly and kissed her on the nose, resting her forehead on Leslie's before saying, "trust me, nothing bad will happen. We will come through this better off in the end for it. But I need to save her. I have to."

This need to save something she loved was something Leslie would never understand, and something Michelle would understand all too well. Beatrice laced her fingers through Leslie's and smiled, shutting her eyes.

"Everything will be okay," she whispered, "I promise. And you know me, I never break a promise."

This was true, Leslie couldn't deny. As of now, she had yet to break a promise.

                                                                                                       ***

Michelle was lying in her hospital bed as Eliza pulled her jacket on and stood up, preparing to leave. She stopped and looked at Michelle, who looked away from the muted television at her and smiled. Eliza sighed and rubbed her eyes furiously, as if she was anxious.

"You were gonna say something earlier, before everyone barged in," Michelle said, "if you wanna finish that thought now you can."

"...it's okay," Eliza said, "I'll come by tomorrow morning, okay?"

Michelle nodded, and Eliza turned, heading for the door. Her hand grabbed the knob, then she heard Michelle's voice, weak and gentle.

"you don't have to go," she said softly.

This made Eliza stop in her tracks and turn back towards the hospital bed.

"i mean...it'd be nice to have company," Michelle said, "i...i don't know when the visiting hours end, i guess, but..."

Eliza smiled and walked back to the bed, taking her hand.

"If you want me to stay, I'll stay," she said, "all you had to do was ask."

So Eliza stayed. And when Michelle fell asleep from the medication, Eliza watched over her until a nurse told her she couldn't stay any longer. Eliza felt like she could finally breath a sigh of relief once more. Michelle would have surgery and she would be alright. She wasn't going to lose anybody. For once in her life, it seemed, everything was actually going to work out.

Sometimes it's nice to win.

If there was one thing Eliza Tartt was familiar with, it was hospitals.

That was perhaps the one similarity she and Michelle shared more than anything else, not that Michelle was very well aware of this. The reality of this made Eliza feel sick, ironically, and the last place she ever wanted to be again was a hospital, even if it wasn't for her. After the accident, when her mother died, Eliza simultaneously couldn't wait to leave the hospital, and yet she never wanted to leave. On one hand, leaving meant her life would never be the same again. Staying, however, meant she was closer to the event. Closer to her mother. Like, if she just tried hard enough, she could somehow get back to that moment and maybe change it. In the years since her mother died, Eliza had recognized this was a ridiculous thing to wish. But now, seeing Michelle regularly going to the hospital, it made her nervous. How many more people was she going to have to lose? First her mother, now her best friend? Where would it end?

She set her scissors down on her drafting table and sat back in her chair as she heard the door to The Hole opening behind her. She didn't even turn to see who it was. She didn't care. It wasn't like anyone respected her privacy as it was, so why fight it. When she looked to her side a minute later, she realized it was Liam, of all people.

"You never come out here," she said quietly.

"I know, and I probably should," he replied, biting into the already half eaten apple in his hand and chewing, "it's nice out there. Quiet. Away from everyone. You hermits sure know how to live."

Eliza smirked and wiped her nose on her sleeve.

"You okay, kiddo?" Liam asked, and she shrugged.

"Is anyone?" she asked, "I don't know that I've ever been okay, honestly. I'm not sure I even know what okay feels like."

"God," Liam said, "Remind me not to come hang out with you again, you enormous bummer."

He smiled at her, to let her know he was kidding, then he pulled over one of the stools and seated himself on it, looking at the puppet she was making on the table. He picked up a few loose sheets of paper with designs on them, measurements and material options, and read through them before setting them back down, sighing and looking at her.

"Eliza, I promise you that Beatrice is going to do whatever it takes to make sure Michelle will be okay, alright?" Liam asked, "I know she's your best friend, but you have to have some faith, okay? I promise, she's gonna be fine."

"But what if she isn't?" Eliza whispered, and Liam couldn't even answer that.

                                                                                                           ***

"It's so nice to have someone else in the house," Delores said, standing at her stove, making a pot of soup while Michelle sat at the table. Since her health had worsened, she'd taken up to living with Delores - not just to give Keagan and Lexi some space, but also for some help from someone who spent their life helping others - and it was...comforting. Michelle's mother had never been the most loving or affectionate, so to have a woman about the same age as her mother give her that kind of motherly love...it was nice. Michelle coughed and laid her head down on her folded sweatshirt on the table; her voice was weak lately from all the coughing.

"What do you think I should do?" Michelle asked, almost wheezing, "there's things they could do, but...what do you think I should do?"

"Personally," Delores said, sipping from her stirring spoon, "I would want you to do whatever you can to get better. You need to take some time off from work, first and foremost. I know Beatrice and the show is important to you, and that you're a crucial part of it, but you simply cannot go on doing things the way you're doing them right now in the condition that you're currently in. You'll only worsen yourself, okay?"

Michelle nodded, smiling. She shut her eyes, and simply listened to the sound of Delores humming and cooking. It felt so safe being here, and Michelle was so grateful to have such a caring social worker. After a few minutes, she heard a chair scraping on the floor, and opened her eyes to see Delores seating herself at the table across from her, and looking at Michelle seriously.

"W...what?" Michelle asked, coughing.

"You need to stay here," she said, "it's okay, I have plenty of room, but you need someone to take care of you during this. You need to not feel in the way. I'm more than happy to welcome you into my home. But you also have to do something for me, and that's to continue fighting to get better, no matter what it takes, okay? Cause no kid of mine gives up without a fight."

Michelle blushed, and nodded.

"Okay, I'll keep fighting," she said weakly.

"Now take a nap. I'll wake you up when the soup is done," Delores said.

                                                                                                       ***

Leslie was sitting in her office when the door opened and Beatrice came in, slamming the door behind her, surprising Leslie, who yelped at the loud noise. She put her pen down and looked at Bea, who was now pacing nervously back and forth, chewing on her nails.

"Problem?" Leslie asked.

"Too many," Bea replied.

"Well, let's look at some of them," Leslie said.

"Where to even start? I've been outed, my biggest creative partner is in extremely poor health, the show and its merchandise is doing so well that it terrifies me, and I don't know what to worry about first. That's how many problems I have, I can't even figure out which one to focus on."

Leslie laughed a little. She always appreciated seeing Beatrice anxious, because she so rarely did, and it reminded her that she was, in fact, a human being. Beatrice tried so hard to be anything other than that, to be perfect and all knowing, and to see her actually full of doubt made her all the more endearing to Leslie. Leslie leaned back in her chair and put her legs up on her desk.

"Are you wearing cowboy boots?" Beatrice asked, stopping and looking at her shoes.

"I can wear whatever footwear I want," Leslie remarked.

"Why do you feel the need to dress up as a mythological figure?" Bea asked.

"Asks the woman who wears a dog suit for a living," Leslie replied, cackling, "look, my choice of shoes isn't the issue here, alright? You need to calm down, okay? Just chill out for a second and let's approach these issues one at a time, and we'll make some kind of progress or-"

"I can't just slow down!" Beatrice shouted, surprising Leslie.

Leslie liked seeing her nervy, but she didn't like seeing her scared, Leslie got up from her desk chair and went around, putting her hands on Bea's shoulders and stopping her from pacing. She made her face her, and looked in her eyes. Beatrice stood and stared Leslie down, her eyes wet with tears. Then, without even realizing she was doing it, Leslie hugged her. They'd tried not to be openly affectionate in public since the incident, but hell, they were at work in an office, and she needed something right now. It was more than worth the risk. As she stroked Bea's hair, she could hear softly crying into her blouse.

"...what do i do if she can't get better?" Bea whispered, "...i don't think i can do the show without her."

"She's not even IN it," Leslie said, confused.

"But she's why it's back at all," Bea added, "she's why it exists at all right now. If she...god, I can't even say it."

"She's not going to, alright? She's just having a health scare," Leslie said, "but she'll be fine, trust me. Even if she can't come into the office for a bit, we'll find a way to include her in some capacity. Get her a work station for home or something. She's clearly willing and capable, she built a set in her goddamned basement after all."

Beatrice smiled, nodding. Leslie was right. She just had to relax. Michelle was tough. She'd survived childhood with this illness, surely she could survive adulthood. Especially now that, this time, she had such a strong support system surrounding her. All she had to do, for once, is simply not worry. Something Beatrice was, sadly, almost incapable of doing.

                                                                                                         ***

Lexi was sitting in the living room of the apartment when Keagan got home. Shutting the door behind her and tossing her bag on the floor by the door, she sighed loudly before noticing Lexi was sitting on the couch, cross legged, in the dark. Keagan furrowed her brow, but didn't turn the lights on. Instead, she walked around to the front of the couch and climbed onto it beside her.

"You okay?" Keagan asked, tracing her fingertips up and down Lexi's arms.

"...i can save her," Lexi whispered.

"What?"

"Michelle, I can save her," Lexi said, turning her head to look at Keagan; her eyes were red, like she'd been crying hard for hours, but she was smiling regardless as she added, "I can do it. I have the money. If there's a treatment that can save her, that can help her, I can pay for it. What good is getting this money if I don't do good with it? My dad was greedy, he went to jail because of money, but now I can take that very same money and put it towards helping rather than hurting."

Keagan was stunned. Lexi, since obtaining the money, had seemed like she was focused on shallow, almost superficial things. A better place to live, buying a nicer car, so to hear her state that she could do something for someone else...it threw her. She honestly didn't know how to respond. She was touched, to say the least, but her shock was currently overwhelming any other emotions she could possibly convey. Lexi smiled and looked down at the drink in her hand.

"...I have to do it," she said softly, "Michelle's determination to get Beatrice to come back not only got you a career, but it allowed me to take the chance and be with you, bravery via admiration is still bravery regardless of its source. Everything she has ever done has been for the good of others. It's time someone did something for the good of her."

"Well, if you think you-"

"It's not about what I think. It's the right thing to do. If there's one life lesson to be learned from Beatrice Beagle, it's to help your friends," Lexi said, chuckling, "look at us, adults taking lessons from a kids show."

"There's a reason they're popular," Keagan replied, shrugging, the girls laughing.

                                                                                                      ***

Michelle had eaten what Delores had cooked, then had - at Delores's insistence - taken a bath with the lights off, before taking a nap afterwards. When she woke up, she pulled on the robe Delores had given her and stumbled out into the kitchen, surprised to find Delores sitting at the table, eating an enormous slice of cake, her hair in rollers. Delores merely smiled at Michelle as she entered.

"Everything okay?" Delores asked.

"I wanted some water," Michelle said weakly, "...where did you get cake?"

"Secret hiding spot," Delores replied, getting up and getting Michelle a glass of water as Michelle seated herself at the table.

"You hid an entire cake?"

"You'd be surprised the enormous things women can hide," Delores said, handing the glass to Michelle before adding, "...that might not have come out right, but you know what I mean."

Michelle giggled as she sipped her water. Delores sat back down and, fork back in hand, continued digging into her cake. Michelle sat back in her chair and drank her water, trying to wake up as she watched Delores eat the biggest slice of cake she'd ever seen in her life.

"I feel so pathetic," Michelle said, "I feel like I don't deserve any of the help I'm getting. I know that's just my moms hatred of my illness speaking, but still. People have so many things to worry about in their lives without having to worry about me on top of it. I know you're a social worker, you're, like, pre-programmed to care, but still."

Delores laughed as she wiped her mouth and set her fork down, looking at Michelle.

"Here's the situation kid," Delores said, clearing her throat, "you're sick. You're sick with a lifelong illness, and you were given shitty parents. In fact, the only saving grace in your life is that you somehow weaseled your way into the life of a woman who vanished some fifteen plus years ago, and has only returned as a result of your determination. Your life is not the same as others, which means the circumstances aren't going to be the same either. But you know what? That's good. That's means it's entirely unpredictable, and you get the things, and people, you never expected."

Delores reached forward and put her hand on Michelle's arm, smiling.

"The people you never expected," she continued, "people who love you, and care about you, and want to help you. I won't tell you that you should be happy, because you have every right to feel however you want. The situation sucks, and far be it from me to try and tell you to hold your head up and smile. Cry all you goddamn want, sweetheart, you're in an unfair situation, and you deserve to grieve over a seemingly 'normal' life. But you should recognize, while acknowledging your emotional autonomy, that you are lucky. We love you. All of us. And we're gonna do whatever it takes to help you. After her plane crash, my daughter didn't want my help. She pulled away from me, and that killed me, because all I ever knew was to help my children. Let me help you."

Michelle nodded, crying silently. She wiped her eyes on her robe sleeve as Delores got up and kissed the top of her head as she took her plate to the sink, then exhaled.

"I'm off to bed kiddo," she said, "by the way, a package came for you while you were napping. It's on the coffee table in the  living room. See you in the morning."

With that, Delores spirited herself away upstairs to her bedroom. Michelle got up and, cinching the belt around her robe, headed into the living room. She sat down on the couch and saw a small, brown package sitting on the coffee table. She recognized the handwriting on it right away as Eliza's, and she furrowed her brow, unsure of what to expect. She picked up a small pair of scissors from the table and started opening the package, only to gasp. She reached inside and pulled out a handmade Beatrice doll. Attached to it was a small note, which Michelle quickly detached and read to herself

"Michelle, I made this for you. It's special. It's not like the ones you can get in the stores, and it's the only one like it to exist. Now you can have her with you whenever you feel scared. I'm not good at explaining my feelings, and especially bad at explaining my feelings about others to them, but...you're very important to me, like Beatrice is to you, and I want you to feel safe and comfortable during this terrifying time. I hope to see you again soon, either at work or elsewhere. I hope you're feeling better, and if not, I hope this makes you feel better. Your very best friend, Eliza Tartt. PS: squeeze her paw."

On the verge of full on ugly crying, Michelle gathered herself best she could and looked at the doll, her hand slowly gripping the paws and squeezing. Eliza hadn't clarified which, so she tried one, and when that didn't work, she tried the other. When she did, the small voicebox inside just barked at her, and Michelle started laughing and crying simultaneously. She vowed she'd get better, if for nothing else than for Eliza. She'd suffered enough loss. Michelle held the doll to her chest tightly and cried in the darkness of the living room.

Eliza, lying in her bed at home and staring at a photo of herself, Bea and Michelle in The Hole sometime during production last year, was crying too, but for an entirely different reason. She was hopelessly, helplessly in love, and didn't know how to show it, so she just did what she did best.

She made a doll.

There was nothing Michelle liked better than going for a ride.

Even as a little girl, her only really good memories of being with her mother were on car rides. Especially car rides late at night, when the dashboard was lit up while the rest of the world was asleep, with only the passing overhead streetlamps to light the way, and the air conditioner blowing on her face, the whole sensation lulled Michelle into a sense of security that she rarely got otherwise. For just a brief moment, she felt like she could ignore the world outside her car, and simply enjoy being alive. And she really liked it when she didn't have to drive, and thankfully, she didn't right now. Beatrice was in fact the one behind the wheel, but mostly because it was Beatrice who had any idea of their destination.

Michelle pulled open her small package of peanuts and started eating them slowly, one by one, sucking the salt from them in her mouth before chewing the remains, all while Beatrice drove in silence. The radio wasn't on. They hadn't spoken since they left a half hour ago. All in all, the mood was what Michelle might consider 'offputting'. Finally, Michelle took a deep breath from the mask strapped around her neck and then exhaled before continuing to eat her peanuts.

"Sorry to demand this little road trip," Beatrice said, "I know it's probably not what you want to do right after being in the hospital, but I wanted to spend some time alone with you."

"It's fine," Michelle replied, shrugging, "if nothing else, it's nice to be able to go somewhere without having to put any effort into it firsthand. I'm glad you're the one driving."

"It's weird, isn't it?" Beatrice asked, heading down the long empty straightaway in the middle of nowhere, "just how much we take existence itself for granted. We just...we push aside any thoughts of dying, of non existence, because not only is it too scary to think about but also because hey, if we've made it thirty years, why wouldn't we make it another thirty years? But time is finite. Existence is fragile. I was so scared you might die."

"I get that," Michelle said, "when I was a little girl and in and out of the hospital all the time, I think I was scared too. Then, when nothing fatal ever happened, I sort of just assumed I was in the clear. Like you said, I just pushed it all to the back of my head. Told myself I was fine. When I collapsed at the event, I had this moment where the last thought to run through my head was 'it took a while'. Imagine that being the last thing you think."

Beatrice smirked and clicked her turn signal on, despite there being no cars around for miles.

"I guess the benefit of youth is the outright denial of death, not even denial, the abject inability to even comprehend such a thing," Beatrice said, "I never thought about how short life was when I was 10, because I was 10, and it didn't occur to me that life ends. Even when someone finally did die, someone in the family or something, it still never really got through to me that it would eventually happen to me one day. People talk about the loss of innocence of childhood as we get older, but what we really lose is that sense of immortality. That's what we lose, and as a result, we're terrified to do anything new, because, hey, it could kill us."

Michelle chuckled and nodded, popping more peanuts into her hand and then tossing them into her mouth as Bea continued.

"Your mom came by," she whispered.

"Really? To the hospital?"

"Only to cause a scene," Beatrice said.

"Yeah that's kind of her thing," Michelle replied.

"People who don't put in the time to love you don't deserve the chance to grieve you," Beatrice said flatly, "everyone else who was there that day...everyone was devastated. Your social worker, Keagan, even Eliza...we were all so worried to death, and then she comes strolling in like this is just something she was expected to show up to, like an appointment of some kind. She doesn't deserve to worry, if she never cared to love you to begin with."

"I think she does love me, that's the problem," Michelle said, "she just...loves herself more. It's always been more about her. But I think she loves me in the sense that I give her an excuse for her failure at life. I'm the scapegoat. Sure, that's not the kind of unconditional parental love one craves, nor should it be acceptable, but it's love, I guess."

"My parents bent over backwards for me," Beatrice said, "if anything made me upset, they'd find a way to make me feel better. Nowadays, people act like loving your child too much is somehow a negative thing. Now far too many parents leave their children in the hands of society, in the hands of media, which is why I decided the media they consume has to make up for their parents inability to love and nurture them. If they weren't up for the job, then god dammit I would be."

"You ever think about having kids?" Michelle asked, and after a brief pause, Beatrice shrugged.

"At this stage in my life it would be weird," she said, "but I see everyone as my child now, not in a creepy Jesus kind of way, but, you know what I mean."

Michelle, laughing, nodded. The sound of her laughter filled Beatrice with happiness, and she was so glad to see Michelle feel good enough to laugh again. Michelle finished her peanuts pouch and crumbled up the bag, stuffing it into her denim jacket, before pulling her hair up into a messy bun and clipping it there. She grabbed the mask and put it over her face, taking another long breath, before setting it back in her lap and then biting her lip, trying not to cry.

"What's wrong?" Bea asked, concerned by her sniffling.

"...i wish she loved me," Michelle whispered, "I know, I know that's, like, so cliche, but...god I wish I had family. I wish I had a mother. I know I shouldn't want her acceptance, her love, after how she's treated me, but I do."

"It's only natural," Beatrice said, her voice low but caring, "we all want our parents to love us, especially those of us who don't get that. And the world doesn't feel fair, by comparison, because so many other people have loving parents, why don't we? I feel so guilty for coming from such a warm and loving family, because it makes my art feel invalidating. The kind of pain I feel should only come from deep sadness, but I'm not a sad person, really. I'm actually a pretty happy person. I'm jaded, cynical, but I'm overall satisfied with my life, especially with all of you in it."

Michelle smiled, blushing, as she wiped her eyes on her jacket sleeves and exhaled.

"I hate myself for wanting her to love me," Michelle said, "it makes me so mad that I want her acceptance, but I do. I can't help it. I want her to love me the way she loves herself and her art."

"That's the thing about art, it isn't borne primarily from pain like so many people think," Beatrice said, "it can come from people who are perfectly content, like myself, or from people who are incredibly self indulgent, like her. She loves herself, she thinks she's the best thing since sliced bread, so she creates art to convince everyone else of that very same worldview. She can't fathom a life where she isn't the best and the brightest. She needs that acceptance, just like you want hers."

Michelle nodded, understanding what she meant. Michelle smiled meekly.

"I'm almost ashamed to admit this, but...when I was in the hospital, sometimes I would sneak to the nurses station and steal cards meant for other kids, and I'd read them, pretending they were for me. Pretending that my parents loved me enough to send me something. It's sick, but I guess we do what we have to to get by or whatever."

"That's not sick, Michelle, it's sad as fuck but it's not sick," Bea said, the both of them chuckling as she continued, "you have to create these false realities when reality doesn't give you what you need. Why do you think I created what I created. Why do you think you remade the set in your basement? We create the realities we need, because the realities we need don't exist. I'm sorry they didn't love you."

"It's fine," Michelle said, "I've gotten used to it."

"But that's the thing," Bea said, "nobody should have to 'get used to it'. You should have to get used to a romantic relationship ending, or someone dying, but not the people who should love you not loving you. Nobody should have to get used to their family not wanting them. That's just wrong."

"Nothing that can be done about it now," Michelle said, shrugging.

"That's where you're wrong," Beatrice said, "there is something you can do about it. You wanna see?"

This piqued Michelle's interest, as she had no idea what Bea meant with this cryptic statement. Bea turned down a long dirt road, surrounded by absolutely nothing for miles - not a building or person as far as the eye could see - and continued driving until finally something came into view in the distance. It got bigger and bigger, until finally Michelle could see what it was. A doghouse. Why was there a doghouse out here? And why would Beatrice bring her to it? Finally, as they got close enough, Bea slowed the car down, then came to a full stop. Bea shut the car off, opened the drivers door and climbed out, before heading around to the passenger side and helping Michelle from the car, dragging her oxygen tank behind her, mask fully on her face now.

"What...Bea...what is this?" Michelle asked, as they approached.

"When I was a little girl, Michelle, I had a dog. A beagle. She was my best friend in the whole world," Bea said, "I didn't really like other kids, and living more out in the country, I wasn't around kids much besides school, so she was the most companionship I had, aside from my folks of course. She died when I was in college, and it...it broke me. Something inside of me died that day, and it never recovered. Much like our own perceived immortality when we're young, we also rarely think about the fact that our pets will eventually go too. It's just, I don't know, too sad a thought I guess to really comprehend. But...she died, as every dog before her and after her has done or will do. After college, I came home for a bit before going to the city and...I moved her doghouse out here."

"Why?" Michelle asked.

"I just...I needed a place in the world just for us. Where I could come and pretend like nothing had changed. Like I was still that little girl in the country with a dog for a best friend," Bea said, "this is why it's been so hard this year, merchandising, because she isn't just a character, she's real. She's me. A part of me, anyway. I took her name, I made her a character, I wanted the world to love her the way I do. But...the closer that comes to being a reality, the more it scares me. It feels like she's no longer just for me. Now I have to share her. I wanted that, but when you get what you wanted, you start to wonder why you wanted it in the first place. I guess I wanted her to be shared and loved by everyone because of all the happiness she brought me. I wanted others to have that. You had it."

Michelle stood there, unable to come up with anything to say.

"In the hospital, watching the original show, you had it. You found a joy in her that I had found years before. I didn't know it at the time, but I had accomplished my goal a long time ago. You needed someone, and she was there. I was there," Beatrice said, "and I'm here for you now. She's here for you now."

Beatrice approached Michelle and put her hands on her shoulders, looking her in the eyes.

"...you're the only one who needed her," Bea whispered, "the world doesn't, you did. The doll, the show, everything...it was all for you, I guess. Unlike your mother, my art wasn't made for my sake, but for yours. Not intentionally, obviously, not at first anyway, I didn't even know you, but looking back on it now...it's hard to deny. There's so few things in this world that matter to me the way Beatrice did, but you're one of them."

Bea wrapped her arms around Michelle and squeezed her tightly, both women crying now as they hugged in front of the doghouse. Never in her life, especially not as a child, could Michelle have expected that one day, the very thing that got her through her sickness, would give her this level of love. She was so grateful, and she couldn't believe her luck.

"You know," Michelle said, half laughing half crying, "they say not to meet your heroes, but I think those people just have shitty heroes."

Bea laughed loudly, squeezing her tighter. Beatrice had never brought anyone else to the doghouse. It was a sacred space, meant only for herself, but she realized Michelle was the only other person in the world to understand that level of love, and how important it was to have. Michelle had to see it, because seeing it meant knowing who Beatrice was fully, and she needed that level of connection with an older adult.

"I know I'm not your mom," Bea whispered, "but I sure I hope I've somewhat made up for her failures."

"More than you'll ever know," Michelle whispered back, "more than you will ever, ever know."

                                                                                                            ***

Sitting on the roof of the doghouse, Beatrice looked up at the night sky, taking a long drink from the beer can she had brought with her. She'd only finished building it a few days ago, and she would go back to school in a few weeks time, but for right now, she had this. She had this moment of solitude, this place where she could just be sad, and open, and alone. But she wasn't alone, and she knew that. She knew she wasn't alone. Beatrice was here. It was in that moment, that Amelia Burden decided to take Beatrice's name for her own, and leave her old identity behind. Soon enough she'd graduate college, and she'd be out in the city trying to make art, make a name for herself, and what she needed was an identity she could hide behind, to give her strength.

And what's stronger than the love of a dog?

Absolutely nothing, that's what.

The word had spread like wildfire.

Online entertainment news sites and even a few local papers were suddenly bludgeoning readers with various headlines, such as 'Star of kids show is outed!' or 'Beatrice Beagle is discovered with woman at event!' and, in one instance, a really rude headline that used numerous slurs. Beatrice didn't have time to read them, however, because she was too focused on staring at the tiles on the hospital hallway floor. She had to keep herself distracted for the time being. Leslie, however, was scrolling through her phone, scoffing at various pieces she was stumbling upon, and some unflattering comments as well as some very supportive comments. After a moment she looked at Bea and opened her mouth, but decided against it.

Liam, on the other hand, was in front of the public eye, trying to dissuade the general outcry and hounding reporters. How could he possibly handle this? He locked himself in his office at one point, trying to simply escape for even a singular moment, then opened the minifridge and pulled out a beer and popping the top, downing the entire thing in seconds flat. Jesus christ, why had this happened? Wasn't Beatrice aware of what would happen if she was discovered to be queer? Then again, Liam himself wasn't one to talk. He himself had never been very public about his own sexuality. He sighed and sat on his desk, rubbing his forehead.

None of this mattered right now, he had to remind himself. What really mattered was Michelle, who was in a hospital bed and on machine that was helping her breath. She was what really mattered in this moment. Everything else could be dealt with later.

                                                                                                      ***

"...what if she dies?" Bea whispered, sitting in the chair in the hallway, the same place she'd been seated for the last day, "...what if...she just...doesn't wake up? What if she's comatose?"

Leslie set her phone down in her lap and leaned over, rubbing Bea's back.

"She's gonna be okay, okay?" Leslie said, "trust me, she's got health coverage thanks to the studio, and you, and they'll take care of her. She's gonna be just fine. She'll wake up and we'll talk to her about her health and, and..."

Leslie trailed off, then sighed.

"...I don't like lying to you," she finally said quietly.

"I appreciate that," Bea replied, "the last thing I need is dishonest hope."

They heard a pair of shoes heading down the hallway and looked up to see a heavier set woman in a business suit walking towards them. She set her briefcase down and looked at the women sitting on the chairs before exhaling and holding her hand out, which Beatrice shook firmly.

"My name is Delores. I'm Michelle's social worker," she said, "I tried to get in touch with her only to be told she was in the hospital for the last day. Is she okay? How has she been? Is there any kind of-"

"There's been no news for a few hours," Bea said, "but she's...she's strong, she'll probably be fine."

"May I sit down?" Delores asked, and the woman nodded; Delores grabbed a chair and pulled it over across the hall to theirs and seated herself before asking, "what happened? All I know is that she collapsed and was taken here immediately. I heard it was at some kind of event?"

"That's really all we know too," Bea said, "it was at an event, an event for my show, but I don't know what happened. I just know that she fell over, couldn't breath. I know she has health problems, trouble breathing, that she's been in and out of hospitals since she was a little girl because of it, but I can't say that I know what the problem exactly is or what's effecting her new as a result of it."

Delores nodded, sucking on her lip, shaking her head, then started crying. Leslie stood up and walked over to Delores and hugging her, which Deloris appreciated and hugged back.

"She'll be okay. I'm sure she'd be so thankful you cared and came," Leslie said.

Beatrice had to get away from this for a moment. She stood up and excused herself, heading down the hall and around the corner, then leaned against the wall and shut her eyes. She took a long deep breath and then heard banging nearby. She opened her eyes and looked down the hall to see Eliza standing in front of the candy machine, banging on it with her fist. Beatrice smirked and walked further down the hall, approaching Eliza.

"Did it eat your money or not deliver the goods?" Bea asked, "I could get you something else if-"

"It just...took it!" Eliza shouted, "It just took my dollar and didn't give me anything in return!"

"Well, honey, calm down, it's not a big deal, we can just-"

"Why does life keep taking things from me!?" Eliza shouted, putting her hands on the snack machine glass and crying, "why...why does life keep taking people from me?"

The sadness, the pain in her voice...it broke Bea's heart. She reached out and pulled Eliza against herself and let her cry as she rubbed her back.

"It's okay, she'll be okay," Bea whispered, even if she didn't know if she believed it herself just yet, "...she'll be okay honey."

"She's my best friend," Eliza whispered.

"I know, I know that, and I'm sure she'd be so grateful you were here and were so worried," Bea replied, "it's okay. Life...just...does this. It takes things from us, whether we want it to or not. We just have to cope with it, learn how to accept it and try to stay strong. But she's young, she has money thanks to the network, and she'll be okay, okay? I'll make sure of it. I'll guarantee she's okay."

Eliza didn't even respond, she just cried harder, and Bea just stood there and let her cry on her. After all, she'd dedicated her life to being there for others. Why stop now?

                                                                                                      ***

It was several hours later, and still no change or news had come through. Delores had gone to get everyone dinner, and Eliza had fallen asleep on the couch of the waiting area, which was mostly empty now, thanks to the time of night it was. Beatrice was standing, staring out of a large window and out at the twinkling night city, when Leslie approached her from behind.

"Liam's on the phone," she said quietly, "he wants to know how we move forward with all this...you know...queer stuff."

"...why is it always on me?" Bea asked, and Leslie furrowed her brow, then put the phone back to her ear.

"She'll have to call you back," she said, before hanging up and walking up beside Bea, asking, "...why is what always on you?"

"...feels like, my whole life, I've always had to be the one who keeps things together. We helps everyone feel better. What happens when I need someone? What happens when, suddenly, I require the same kind of love and kindness I've spent my whole life doling out? Michelle is why I'm here. Michelle and Keagan are why I came back at all. Michelle proved to me that what I did, even at my worst, had worth. Had value. I wouldn't be doing what I'm doing right now if not for these girls. And now...now she's lying in a bed and I don't even know if she's alive, and...and I feel like I have no one to turn to."

"But you do," Leslie said, "you have Liam, you have Eliza, you have me. You have ME, Beatrice."

"My name is Amelia," Bea said, surprising even herself at this sudden admittance, "...my real name is Amelia Burden."

"Well, whatever your name is, you have me," Leslie said, "I'll be here for you, I am here for you. I know how close you two are, I know how much you must hurt, and-"

"No, no you...you don't," Bea said, finally starting to cry silently, tears rolling down her face as she looked out the window, "...everything I've ever truly loved has eventually found its way to a hospital. I wasn't there for my dog because I was too busy doing school and work, and then she got sick. I wasn't there for Michelle because I was too busy dealing with merchandising, and then she got sicker. I've never been there when I'm actually needed, only after the fact, only once there's nothing left I can do to change things."

"I don't think you could've changed things, baby," Leslie said, "this shit happens, you just have to deal with it. She's gonna be okay, okay?"

Beatrice looked at Leslie, as Leslie, using her sweater sleeves over her hands, wiped her face free of tears, making Bea smile before she glanced back at Eliza, sleeping on the couch. Beatrice sighed and shook her head, looking back at Leslie.

"...Eliza is a mess," Bea said, "I don't...I don't think I've realized until now how close she and Michelle have become, and...and it worries me. If something happens to her...Eliza's already dealt with enough loss, she can't...she wouldn't be able to..."

"Shhh," Leslie said, kissing Bea's forehead, "it's okay, it'll be okay. Come sit down. You need to rest."

Leslie, taking Bea by the hand, led her to a pair of seats, and they sat down together. After a bit, Leslie dozed off, but Bea continued to look out the window, just from afar now. When she checked her watch, it was now 5 in the morning, and she heard the doors to the waiting area open, and turned to see Keagan entering. Beatrice stood up and smoothed her clothes out, then walked up to Keagan and, before she could even speak, flung her arms around Keagan and squeezed her tight. Together they sat down a bit aways from Leslie and Eliza - both of whom were still sleeping - and took deep breaths.

"I'm so sorry, I was tied up with something and I couldn't...is she okay?" Keagan asked.

"I have no idea," Beatrice said, "they haven't told me anything in hours."

"...god I hope she's okay. I feel so bad for not being here earlier, but...I don't know how to explain this, but...being black, I've had a hard time making friends with white people, understandably. But Michelle, she just took me at face value, and she accepted me, and she wanted to work with me. We've become a bit distant lately, but I need to fix that. I need to make the effort to get back with her, like we were before, and work together again."

Bea smiled, nodding, patting Keagan's hand.

"...she can't die, Bea," Keagan said.

"...she won't," Bea replied, "She'll be fine."

Even if she didn't necessarily believe it herself, there was no reason to not say it to others.

                                                                                                    ***

Leslie had returned to work, Delores had done the same, and Eliza had been instructed by Bea to go home and get some relaxation in, which she couldn't argue against. Now it was just Bea sitting in the hall outside of Michelle's room, once again counting the tiles, and thinking about her life with Michelle...and a life possibly without her. She sighed and scratched her head, terrified of the idea that Michelle might not be here tomorrow, or even later tonight. She swore under her breath, furious that nobody had come to talk to her in so long. Then she saw a woman approaching, and she was surprised, because this woman looked rather professional. A suit, well done hair, clearly someone who was coming to tell Bea something.

"Thank god, I've been waiting for so long, I didn't-" Bea started, but the woman held up a hand to stop her.

"I'm not a doctor," she said, "sorry, hah. I'm Celia Helms, I'm...I'm Michelle's mother."

This hit Beatrice like a freight train.

"...well, where the hell have you been?" Beatrice suddenly said, a feeling of ire in her voice, "I mean, if your her mother, why haven't you been here the last day?"

"Well, I was at a gala event for my work, and I didn't even know at first, but once I was informed, I couldn't just leave, that's unprofessional," Celia said.

Beatrice couldn't believe what she was hearing. She balled her hands into fists, and spoke through gritted teeth.

"Get. out. of here." she said sternly.

"Excuse me?"

"Get. the fuck. out of here, NOW," Beatrice repeated, "before I pull that stick from your ass and beat you senseless with it. You have the fucking gall, the sheer audacity, to put your work over your own child, make her feel bad about her health issues, then not even show up when she winds up in the hospital? What a conceited blowhard you are, holy hell."

"You can't talk to me like this!"

"I can talk to you however damn well I want!" Bea shouted, "you know why? Because I've been there for her! I came immediately! I followed the goddamned ambulance to this fucking hospital, because unlike you, I give a shit about her well being! I was in the middle of a work event too, but guess what? This takes precedence! You have no right to call yourself a mother. Just because you give birth to someone doesn't inherently make you a loving person. You still have to put in even the most minimal effort, something you've never done in regards to your family."

Celia was in shock. Nobody had even talked to her in this manner, especially not someone in Michelle's defense. She didn't really know how to appropriately respond. Bea walked closer, her face right in Celia's, their eyes locked, and Celia shaking in her heels.

"Now," Beatrice said, "you get the FUCK out of her, or you'll find yourself in a hospital bed."

Celia nodded, quickly turned and walked briskly away and around the corner. Bea leaned against the wall, breathing heavily, quickly, until she felt a hand on her shoulder and looked to see Liam smiling at her.

"When did you get here?" she asked.

"Literally a second ago, to see that stunning display of motherly affection," he replied, "God damn Bea, that was...that was heavy."

"She doesn't deserve Michelle, and Michelle deserves better," Bea said, before looking at Liam again and falling into him, as he wrapped his arms around her and consoled her while she cried into his shirt.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," he said, "I've been trying to fend off reporters and paranoid parents alike about, well, you know. But eventually I realized that could wait. There's no need to clear the air on something that isn't bad to begin with, even for the sake of some lunatics piss poor excuse for a belief system. The network is fielding everything for the moment, and I decided to come down here and-"

"I need you to do me a favor," Bea said quietly.

"Yeah, of course, anything at all."

"Get me my head," Bea said.

                                                                                                        ***

When Michelle finally opened her eyes, it was almost two whole days since she'd lost consciousness. Her eyesight was blurry at first, but she was able to ascertain right off the bat - likely thanks to a lifetime being spent in hospitals - where she was. If anything, she wasn't sure if she should be more annoyed that she was in a hospital, or grateful she wasn't dead. Michelle shut her eyes again and took a long breath, the best she'd taken in weeks it felt like, until she looked to the side of the bed and noticed Beatrice, in the full suit, sitting beside the bed. Michelle's eyes widened and she tried to sit upright.

"Bea?" she asked.

"I'm here," Beatrice replied, standing up and touching Michelle's face with her costumed paws, "you're safe now. I was in the hospital with you as a child, and I'm in the hospital with you now. You're okay, Michelle."

Michelle wanted to cry. This was, bar none, the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her. She tried to sit up more to give Bea a hug, but Bea met her halfway, and hugged her tightly. Michelle couldn't believe Bea was here, nor that she would put on the suit just for this situation. It was in that moment that Michelle realized how lucky she was. After a moment the door opened and Eliza poked her head in. Beatrice backed away and said she'd bring them something to eat, then left the room as Eliza sat on the chair Bea had been in.

"...hey," Michelle said weakly, coughing a little.

"...you're alive," Eliza said, her eyes darting around the room, as if hoping to look at anything other than her best friend, "...they didn't tell us anything for a long time, so...so nobody really knew if, you know."

"Well, I'm here," Michelle replied, "did anything else happen while I was out of commission?"

"...the candy machine ate my dollar," Eliza said, making Michelle laugh a little, which hurt.

"Well," Michelle said, "When we get out of here, I'll give you a new dollar."

And for the first time in nearly two days, Eliza laughed, and it felt good to laugh again. Eliza then suddenly stood up and flung herself on Michelle, hugging her tight, and Michelle hugging her back. Michelle had never had visitors when she was in the hospital as a little girl...and now?

Now she couldn't keep people out of her hospital room.

And she was SO grateful for that.

"Michelle?"

No answer. Eyes shut tight. Body limp on the ground.

"Michelle?!"

Sounds all around. Noises and whispers. Everything was still at least slightly audible. Then the sound of sirens in the distance. Then everything went silent, and nothing was heard anymore.

                                                                                                       ***

"You look good," Leslie said, leaning against the wall as she watched Beatrice put earrings on in front of her vanity in the bedroom. Leslie was already dressed, in a loose white blouse and tight jeans, with Beatrice having yet to choose her outfit for the appearance. Beatrice sighed and shook her head, pushing her bangs from her eyes.

"I really don't want to do this, I'm no good at public stuff," she said, as she felt Leslie standing behind her now, massaging her shoulders.

"You're gonna be great, okay? You're unveiling the doll, announcing new episodes, have a little meet and greet with some kids, it'll be a fantastic day," Leslie said, leaning in and kissing her neck, "and everyone will be there. Liam, Eliza, everyone will be there to support you, alright?"

Beatrice nodded, just as the doorbell rang, and Leslie ran to answer the door. Beatrice stayed staring at herself in the vanity mirror and thought about herself. About what people might think of her when they see her in person, outside of the dog suit. Would kids like her, or did they just like Beatrice the dog? She nervously chewed on her nails and began to pace back and forth, just as Liam entered the room, leaning on his cane as he walked. Beatrice looked at him as he walked in, and furrowed her brow at the reappearance at his cane.

"You still have that?"

"Some days my left leg doesn't work so great," he says, "I think I did nerve damage to it when I...well, you know."

"Indeed I do."

"Anyway, ever since the hospital stay, I've had to use it on and off," Liam said, "so, you gonna wear something to this event or just go like that?"

Beatrice scoffed, chuckling as she headed to the closet, pulling the doors open and peering inside. Liam walked up behind her and looked in as she reached inside and pulled the light string, illuminating her wardrobe.

"Should I be fashionable, casual, what?" Beatrice asked.

"I would choose something casual, sure," Liam said, "but it depends on how much you care about how others view you. See, me, personally...I'm an attention whore. I refuse to leave the house without looking fabulous. You think this just happens? Nah. This takes time and effort."

"You're so goddamned annoying," Beatrice said, laughing, shaking her head as she leafed through pieces of clothing hanging from the closet until she finally pulled out a light blue long sleeve button down shirt and a grey wool skirt. She turned and held them up against herself together before asking, "well, what do you think?"

"They need a new name for lesbians with no fashion sense like you. I know there's chapstick, but you're not chapstick, you're more like...well, I don't know but you're boring," Liam said as Beatrice started to get dressed.

"I'll take boring over dramatic any day," she said, pulling the skirt up around her hips and zipping it up alongside the side before adding, "the last thing I need is attention."

                                                                                                           ***

Eliza was standing in front of her bathroom mirror in the upstairs hallway, clipping some of her hair back up when she stopped and stared at herself. She pulled her glasses off slowly and looked at herself again. Blurry. She couldn't see. She slid them back up on her nose and sighed as she pulled the tube of lipstick out and applied it, just as Michelle entered the bathroom, surprising her a bit.

"What are you doing here?" Eliza asked, checking her watch, "You're...15 minutes early."

"Well your dad let me in and told me where you were, so I figured I'd find you instead of waiting in my car," Michelle said, almost wheezing, "but boy...those stairs are killer on my lungs right now."

"You still having trouble breathing, more than usual?" Eliza asked, "what about that little machine?"

"It's doing its job but it can only do so much. My poor biology is much stronger than medical science, sadly," Michelle said, "why are you putting on makeup? Should I have put on makeup?"

"I don't know. I just...I figured it would be good to look good. It is a public appearance," Eliza said, "I could put makeup on you."

"I...I don't think I've ever had someone apply makeup to me before," Michelle said, laughing a little, "never really had girlfriends growing up, no slumber parties or whatever it is girls do together, but it...it could be fun, sure. I look good in eyeliner."

"I could do that, sit down," Eliza said, snapping her fingers and pointing at the toilet, where Michelle took a seat as Eliza rifled through her makeup bag, found her eyeliner pencil and then knelt down so they were eye level as she started to apply it. Being this close up, Eliza couldn't help but realize just how odd Michelle's eyes were. After a moment she stopped and said, "you know, you have two different eye colors."

"I know."

"That's really neat," Eliza said, "it's very pretty."

"Thanks," Michelle said, smiling as Eliza continued.

"So," Eliza asked, biting her lip, "do you...do you know if I'll have to speak at this thing? Cause I'm the one who actually designed the doll. I'm not good at public speaking."

"I'm not sure but I'd like to think if you didn't want to they wouldn't make you," Michelle said.

Eliza stopped, her free hand on Michelle's face, staring into her eyes and looking at the job she'd done thusfar. She knew it was bad to make a move without consent, but she couldn't help but feel like all she wanted to do was kiss her. She leaned in closer, breathing hard, then raised her pencil hand again and continued applying eyeliner.

"Your breath smells nice," Michelle said, laughing, "smells like fruit."

"I had a smoothie for breakfast," Eliza said, laughing nervously, "but thank you."

After another minute she was done, and she capped her eyeliner pencil again. Michelle stood up and admired herself in the mirror before thanking Eliza and saying she'd go get the car started. Once she was out of the bathroom, Eliza locked the door, then leaned her back against it and did her best not to start crying. She wouldn't want to reapply her makeup, after all.

                                                                                                       ***

"I love your cane," Leslie said as she, Liam and Beatrice drove to the event in Bea's car. Liam smirked and watched as Leslie looked at his cane up close, adding, "the detailing is absolutely incredible. Did you get someone to carve this for you personally?"

"Please don't humor him," Beatrice said.

"No, humor me," Liam said, "and yes, I hired someone who does woodworking to carve this for me. It's a visual representative of a trail Marvin and I used to love to hike. See, at the top, in the knob, there's a mountaintop, and a sunset, and it all leads up the cane to that image."

"That's so sweet, I wish I had a cane that was symbolic of my love for Beatrice," Leslie said, handing his cane back.

"When we get home I'll cripple you, how about that?" Beatrice asked, turning onto a street and approaching the venue as Liam and Leslie laughed uproariously in the backseat. They loved getting to her, and today was a good day just for that. Irritating her was Liam's way of making Beatrice distracted from what scared her, and she appreciated his efforts. She pulled in and parked, the three of them getting out of the car as they noticed the crowd already gathering - parents and little kids alike - and the area that was set up outside just for her, with a cardboard standee of Beatrice waving that the kids could take their pictures with.

"God I'm so nervy," Bea said, digging through her purse, "fuck, I didn't bring any cigarettes. Did you guys?"

"I have a joint in my pocket," Leslie said, smirking.

"God you're perfect," Bea said, grabbing her by the wrist and dragging her away as Liam shouted after them.

"Just don't be late! We're on a schedule here!"

Meanwhile, in another lot, Michelle parked and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Eliza opened her door and climbed out the passenger side as Michelle got out and locked the car up. Together they started to head across the street towards the event. Eliza couldn't help but notice that, with every step she took, Michelle was wheezing a little.

"Um, are you sure you should be doing something physical today, if...if you...ya know...are having this much trouble?" she asked, "ya know, with your health and breathing and stuff?"

"I can't just put my life on hold cause of it," Michelle said, "I have responsibilities."

"Is Keagan coming?"

"She and Lexi had to meet with an accountant today regarding the money Lexi got from her father," Michelle said, "but they're gonna meet us afterwards for dinner. You are coming to dinner, right?"

"Di...dinner, like...with you?"

"Yeah, with us," Michelle said, laughing, "You're our friend."

Eliza's heart sunk. She nodded, stuffed her hands in her jacket pockets and continued walking close by Michelle's side. She just couldn't bring herself to say the truth.

                                                                                                             ***

"Say it again, say I'm perfect again," Leslie said, sitting on Beatrice's lap as they were sitting on top of a trash can in the alley near the toy store, and Beatrice rolled her eyes as she made a grab for the joint, just as Leslie jerked it away and laughed, saying, "come on! Say it and you'll get more!"

"Fine, you're perfect, okay? You're the most perfect amazing woman to ever live," Beatrice said, taking the joint from Leslie and taking a long puff, just as Leslie leaned in and kissed her on the collarbones, making Bea laugh and blush, as she added, "Come on! Jeez, you horn dog!"

"I can't help it, weed puts me in the mood," Leslie said, "Also, you rarely wear skirts and you look so good in them."

Beatrice took a long drag and then exhaled before looking at Leslie and smiling, blushing.

"You're so beautiful," Beatrice said, whispering, "like...like so beautiful. I wanna take you to meet my parents. They live out in the country and I think they'd love you, not like I do of course, but still."

"You're so corny, man," Leslie said, chuckling as she took the joint back, took a long drag and then exhaled as Beatrice leaned up and licked her neck, making her screech in surprise and laugh hard as she said "geez!" before grabbing Bea's face and kissing her hard. Beatrice, for so long, had hidden who she was, and who she loved, only because she was a private person, not because she was ashamed. But after hiding it so long, being with Leslie this way, so publicly, it felt so good...so real. As the kiss broke, Bea and Leslie looked into eachothers eyes and Bea realized for the first time in her life that she was, even with everything going on around her, truly happy.

"Beatrice?" a voice asked, and both women looked to the end of the alley only to see a little girl standing there, holding the doll. They were giving them out as a promotion, and she'd already gotten one, squeezing it tightly to her as she added, "I recognize your voice."

Both women were frozen, and as Leslie attempted to climb off her, an older woman, clearly the girls mother arrived at her side and grabbed her hand, staring to apologize before realizing what it was she was seeing. She stopped mid sentence and stared, unsure of how to react. After a minute or two of awkward silence, she just tugged on her daughters arm and they headed away. Beatrice exhaled deeply as Leslie adjusted her blouse and fixed her hair.

"Well," she said, "that was sufficiently awkward. Guess we should get going. You've gotta give a speech."

                                                                                                            ***

"God, look at the turnout," Michelle said, "this is fantastic!"

"It's a lot of people. You wouldn't get me in a crowd this big if it wasn't for her," Eliza said quietly.

"Same, honestly," Michelle replied, "oh, there's Liam! He's on the stage!"

Michelle grabbed Eliza's hand and pulled her closer, squeezing her hand tightly as she got more excited upon approach. By the time they got to the little makeshift stage and podium in front of the toy store, even Eliza couldn't help but smile, as Michelle's joy was simply contagious, and she was happily infected with it. Liam tapped the microphone and cleared his throat as he began to speak to the crowd of kids and parents.

"Hello," he said, "My name is Liam, and I'm Beatrice's best friend. We are here today to celebrate the release of the very first Beatrice Beagle talking doll. And of course, my friend Bea is here, and she will happily talk to any and all kids who want to meet her! These dolls are made by our very own puppet maker on the show, and we cannot be grateful enough to her for her efforts in bringing it to life!"

He glanced to the side of the stage and noticed Bea standing there, nervously chewing her lip.

"And now, please kids, welcome miss Beatrice Beagle herself!" he said, moving aside to let her approach the mic, standing behind her now as everyone applauded politely. Beatrice got to the microphone and tapped it, then exhaled nervously and blinked a few times.

"Beatrice Beagle is a dog, and dog is mans best friend," she said, "and that's why I wanted to make this wonderful doll made by my wonderful friends, because everyone deserves a best friend who loves them. Far too often, kids are-"

"Do you think same sex relationships are a good thing to promote for children?" a woman in the crowd asked, interrupting her, "because I heard just today that you were seen, by a child, kissing another woman near the store. What do you have to say about that?"

"I...I uh...I don't know what you're..." Bea said, stammering, stumbling over her words, her emotions caught in her throat.

"I don't think kids need to be subjected to anyones sexuality, straight or otherwise," a man said, interjecting, "how could you come to an event with children as the primary audience and then flaunt it?"

"Flaunt it? It was in an alley!" Bea said, before realizing what she'd just done. She looked back at Liam, who was quickly realizing he needed to do damage control, but Bea then turned back to the mic and added, "I mean, I kissed someone, yes, but it...it was out of sight and, and uh..." she glanced to the side of the stage, looking at Leslie before saying quietly, "...I'm sorry?"

And all hell broke loose as other parents started to chime in, and Bea relinquished control of the podium mic back to Liam, but he was drowned out by the audience. Michelle, looking around, was horrified. Simply horrified at the ridiculousness of the situation. She looked at Eliza, and then she turned and started to walk away angrily, Eliza in tow. As they got further from the crowd, Michelle finally started to stomp her feet on the ground.

"Why is it that every time something nice starts to happen for her, someone ruins it?!" she yelled, "this was supposed to be a big day, a huge event, and that...those bigoted assholes are just...god! Who cares who loves who?!"

"I...I don't..." Eliza said, fighting to find what to say in response.

"I mean, she's actually genuinely happy, and they're stuck in bad marriages, often with kids they never wanted! Just like my mom! God! They just wanna take whatever morsel of joy they can from those who can actually attain it because they're pissed they couldn't have it themselves!" Michelle said.

"Can I...can I tell you..." Eliza said, trying to find courage. This was it. This was the moment. This thing with Beatrice being out in the open, and now Michelle's ranting. Eliza knew she'd never have a better chance.

"I just cannot stand..." Michelle said, "...cannot...stand..."

She stumbled back, grasping at her chest as Eliza watched in horror as she dropped to her knees and then fell onto her side. Eliza screamed and then jumped up and down, calling for Beatrice, who quickly left the stage and raced over there, a crowd behind her. Beatrice knelt down beside Michelle and patted her on the face, her eyes nearly closed now, breath barely escaping her throat.

"Michelle?"

No answer. Eyes shut tight. Body limp on the ground.

"Michelle?!"

Sounds all around. Noises and whispers. Everything was still at least slightly audible. Then the sound of sirens in the distance. Then everything went silent, and nothing was heard anymore.