"Wyatt?"

Wyatt was staring straight ahead in disbelief. He looked down at his hands, the blood on them. He was shaking ever so slightly, his eyes glued to the car in front of him, the body wrapped in a blanket being loaded into the trunk.

"Wyatt?" the voice asked again, and he turned his head to face Rachel, staring at him. She reached out and put her hands on his face, attempting to ground him. He shook harder, and she nodded, whispering, "it's okay, it's gonna be okay. Everything is gonna be okay."

She heard the metal clang of the trunk shut, and looked where Wyatt had been looking, and for the first time in a while, she felt genuine fear. Calvin had, up to a point, committed his so called atrocities under the pretense of noble morality. But this...this was just murder. And she was terrified. They weren't Calvin. They were so much worse.

                                                                                          EARLIER THAT DAY

Angie was sitting in front of her vanity mirror in her bedroom, looking at her hair. She'd just colored it to a mixture of black and dark red, and was now going to apply her makeup. First she did her lipstick, a kind of brownish red, then applied her eyeliner, a thick black. She caked her face in a pale coverup, and smiled at her efforts. She felt like she was finally getting back to herself, after having gotten lost in the bullshit of The Evergreens, who demanded she tone herself down. She backed up from the mirror and pulled some clothes from her closet, a v-neck t-shirt and a tight pair of ripped black jeans. She pulled her hair back into a partial ponytail, and then headed out of her room, down the stairs and to her car in the driveway.

She drove over to a diner downtown, where she intended to find Wyatt waiting for her. When she arrived, she was surprised he was not only already here, but also had already ordered and started eating. Angie seated herself, causing Wyatt to look up from his breakfast plate and smile politely at her before going back in for more scrambled eggs. The waitress stopped by and took Angie's order - same as Wyatt's, it was a staple of the place after all, and black coffee - and once she was gone, Angie turned her focus back to Wyatt, who was now wiping his mouth with his napkin and burping lightly.

"So," he said, "when you showed up at the ranch the other day, you said you had something to talk about."

"Yes," Angie said.

"What's with the new look?" Wyatt asked, looking her up and down.

"Actually my old look," Angie retorted, "back before I ended up with The Evergreens, who insisted I tone it down. Now that they're history, I figure, what's the harm in being myself again. But we're not here to discuss my fashion choices-"

"Or lack thereof," Wyatt interrupted, making her chuckle.

"-we're here," she continued, "because I asked my old cult leader, Art Johnson, to help me with finding out who was above Wattson, production wise, of the material. Right now Grudin's wife isn't our top priority. She's just...an unfortunate byproduct of the situation. What we need to be focusing on is figuring out who is actually the head of this entire operation of illicit material."

Wyatt nodded, clearly in agreement. This had, after all, been Calvin's cause, and now it was up to him to finish the job, seeing as Calvin was no longer here. He felt he owed him that much at least. And, if he could figure this out, tie it to Brighton definitively, publicly, and prove beyond a shadow of a doubt to Grudin's wife that her husband was simply a sad key in bringing all of this to light, then perhaps they could move on. Still, he didn't hold too much hope in that. Angie plopped a little backpack on the table and unzipped it, sliding out a series of folders.

"These," she said, "are what we managed to dig up on both Wattson and Brighton. Some of this came from Art, some of it came from Ricky. Either way, it's what we know so far," Angie said, "so take these with you, read through them, give me your honest interpretations, and let's move forward from there."

Wyatt nodded again, slid the envelopes to his side of the table seat and then they ate breakfast together in silence for a bit. For a while, it was nice to just have company. Wyatt had felt so bad about his performance at work lately, his home life, his issues with his father, that he'd been spending as much time out of the house as possible, much to an increasingly frustrated Scarlett's chagrin. Angie bit into some bacon and chewed, looking at him.

"What do you wanna do about your dad?" she asked.

"Nothing," Wyatt said, adding more pepper to his eggs, "absolutely nothing. It'll blow over if I just...give him what he wants. Everything will go back to normal."

"Oh, Wyatt, no," Angie said, chuckling, "there is no normal for you anymore."

He wasn't sure what he hated more...the fact she was right, or how she had said it.

                                                                                                          ***

Rachel was in the bathroom putting her earrings in, trying to decide what to wear to Mona's school play that evening. Scarlett had invited her, considering she'd helped make the costume, and so she wanted to do her best to look nice, presentable. Sun Rai was doing the dishes in the kitchen as Rachel exited the bathroom and walked into the kitchen, still fidgeting with her earring clip.

"You know," Rachel said, "she never said I couldn't bring a plus one."

"As cute as you make that sound, I don't think going to an elementary school play is exactly a romantic date," Sun Rai replied, "unless you're a creep, of course."

Rachel laughed and then cursed, having pricked herself with the earring. Sun Rai put the dishes down, wiped her hands on a towel on the counter, then walked over and helped her finish putting them in. After they were securely fastened in her earlobes, she stepped back and put her hands gently on both sides of Rachel's face, smiling warmly. Rachel blushed and cast her eyes down to the floor. Sun Rai then leaned in and kissed her, making her heart do somersaults.

"Amazing that you can still have the same effect on me now just by kissing me that you did the very first time," Rachel said.

"Guess that's what a lifetime of yearning does for a person," Sun Rai replied, shrugging. That's when the knock at the door came. Neither were expecting anyone, not yet anyway - Wyatt was going to pick Rachel up before the play that evening - so they were confused as to who it could be. Sun Rai went back to the dishes, as Rachel went and answered the door, only to find a woman with large glasses and bushy hair standing there.

"Oh," the woman said, "hello, hi. Um...you aren't going to know me and this is going to sound crazy, I know, but...my name is Amelia Klepper, and I think you knew my brother."

That made Rachel turn cold all over. She looked back inside briefly, before exiting into the tight hallway and closing the door behind her.

"Yeah, yes, yes I...I did," Rachel said, crossing her arms, a defensive stature she'd picked up when she was dealing with her parents years prior, "um...yeah, we...he was a very good friend of mine, and...and losing him has been very hard. What is this about? I'm sorry, you've just kinda caught me completely by surprise."

"Oh, no, I totally understand that, and I'm so sorry, I hope I didn't interrupt anything," Amelia said, "no, I just...he didn't really many friends...well, any friends, as far as I knew anyway, so when I found this photo behind his bedside table I figured it'd be good to meet someone who knew him. See what he'd been up to. How he'd been right before...you know."

"I know," Rachel said, and she did know, but she knew that what Amelia knew wasn't the truth.

"We were so close growing up," Amelia said, "I just feel like...like it would be good for me to know who he was friends with. I miss him."

Rachel knew she had to tread lightly. This was dangerous territory she was in now, but...she had to admit that she felt really bad and wanted to help Amelia out any way that she could. This was clearly a woman who was mourning her brother, and if she could help bring her some kind of closure then perhaps that would make Amelia less of a problem later on down the road. Rachel sighed and looked at the floor.

"Look," she said, "I have to go to a school play tonight, why don't you meet me there and afterward I can tell you what I knew about Calvin, what our friendship was like. You deserve to have some nice memories of him. He said you guys barely spoke anymore, so...I don't know, I guess I just feel like I wanna give you any kind of ending that I can."

"That would be really nice, thank you," Amelia said. Rachel then told her the elementary school she would be at, and Amelia went along her way. As Rachel came back into the apartment, she saw Sun Rai organizing the living room, who looked at her curiously.

"Who was that?" she asked.

"Just a friend of a friend," Rachel said, "the sister of a friend, really. It's...it's messy. It's nothing though, don't worry about it."

Rachel headed back to the bedroom, continuing to look for an outfit for that evening, and while Sun Rai knew, deep down, that she had nothing to worry about, she couldn't help but feel uneasy. Rachel had wanted her for so many years, surely she wouldn't cheat on her, right?

                                                                                                    ***

Wyatt, after breakfast, found himself back at work.

He didn't want to be here anymore though, and why should he? Clearly his own father didn't trust him with it, so why should he even care at this point? Wouldn't be his problem anymore much longer, if his dad had anything to say about it. As he did some paperwork about inventory, he chewed on his lip and thought about what he would do with all his soon to be free time. He could spend much more time with Mona. Hell, he could even fix what was going on between himself and Scarlett. They'd been drifting apart for so long now, and he hated that. He sighed and looked at the photo on his desk, the one of him and his family, his wife, his children. It had been taken while on vacation at a famous theme park, and he found he was yearning for those days, when he realized Angie had been right. Those days were gone, and there was no getting them back ever. The door to the office opened and he looked up, only to find Kelly come in. Wyatt brightened up immediately at the sight of her.

"Hey!" he said enthusiastically, as she sat down on a nearby chair.

"Figured I'd find you here," she said.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, leaning back in his own chair, putting his pen down before checking his watch and asking, "wait, shouldn't you be at work?"

"Wyatt, I'm a weather girl, since when are there midday weather reports?" Kelly asked, making him laugh as she added, "besides, after what happened at the ranch the other day, I guess I should felt I should just come and see how you were holding up. That was pretty tense."

"Yeah, that's my dad for ya," Wyatt replied, exhaling, "I really hate to admit this, but what I said was true. I can't wait for him to kick the bucket. I know that sounds so harsh, looking forward to your parents demise, but the man is a monster. He always has been. There's almost no redeeming qualities to him whatsoever. Anything that ever made me happy he made sure to try and ruin or take away or convince me otherwise of. It's a good thing he doesn't know about you, for that matter."

Kelly's eyebrows lifted, and Wyatt cleared his throat.

"Well, cause you're my friend," he added, "you and Celia and Angie, everyone. Like, it's good he doesn't know about my social life, you know? Especially since the last thing we need is for someone like him to be aware of what's going on, insert or involve himself, muddy things up further than they already have been."

"Right," Kelly said, sounding a tad disappointed, "for what it's worth I don't think it's awful to hate your folks or look forward to them dying. Some people simply weren't meant to be parents. Some are unequipped but do their best and some are perfectly equipped and couldn't give less of a shit. Some are just outright bad people. Children, parents, we're all just human beings with flaws, you know? Being somebody's kid or somebody's parent doesn't automatically make you a better, more moral human being."

Wyatt nodded in agreement, picking up a little stress toy off his desk and squeezing it, making it squeak, making her giggle, which made him smile. He sighed heavily and slid down in his chair further.

"And now I have to see him tonight," he groaned, "for this play at Mona's school."

"I could come, if you'd like," Kelly said, "relieve some tension."

"No, it's fine," Wyatt said, "I mean, I'd love having you there, you tickle me, but Scarlett would probably think it's weird to have some random friend with me. Only reason Rachel's even going is cause she helped design Mona's costume."

"What is she anyway? What is the play?" Kelly asked.

"It's a collection of acted our nursery rhymes," Wyatt said, "she's a teapot for 'I'm a little teapot'."

"Well that's obnoxiously adorable," Kelly said, the both of them laughing.

"Listen, Kelly," Wyatt said, after a brief moment of silence, "I have to tell you something."

Kelly perked up, hopeful as he continued.

"Um," he added, "and this is weird cause I haven't...I haven't had to say this to anyone in many years, but...and I hope you don't think it's weird for me to but, uh...lately I think I've..."

Their eyes locked, and it was as if the other was already well aware of what it was they were going to say. Wyatt struggled, looking at her. She was so pretty, so effortlessly pretty in a non conventional way, in a way that didn't feel performative. She just existed, exuding natural beauty. She wasn't like Scarlett. Scarlett was gorgeous, sure, but so much of it was an act. She bought nice clothes, she got her hair done, she was an expert with makeup. Kelly was...well, like Amelia had been. Just naturally pretty without even trying to be. Her slight smile made his heart jump in his chest, and he found his nerve, recomposed himself and went on.

"It's been a weird few months, what with everything that's happened. Your surgery, your leg, the crash, Calvin's death...nothing has seemed normal, but...you've made things feel normal and I'm really grateful for that. Angie and I had breakfast today and she told me that there is no normal for me anymore, but when I see you, I feel like that isn't true, I feel like...I feel like you bring back normality, and you ground me, and I'm very grateful for your companionship. Kelly, I think...I think I'm-"

But before he could finish, the phone on his desk rang, and he sighed, apologizing and answering it.

"Hello?" he asked, "yeah, hi Scar. Yeah I know, okay. Yeah Rachel's gonna meet me there, if you'll take Mona. Okay. I can leave any minute. Alright, I'll see you there. Tell Mona daddy loves her. Love you too. See ya."

He hung up and looked at Kelly, who looked as though she was about to explode into tears. Wyatt stood up and pulled his jacket back on over himself, then walked around the desk and sat on it, looking down at her. Kelly looked up at him, and no words had to be said, really. The silence sad it all. Each knew what was about to happen here had that phone not rung, but each also knew how wrong it would be to give in like that. Wyatt reached out, slowly, and petted the side of her face gently with his knuckles.

"You gonna be okay?" he asked, as she pulled away and stood up.

"Do I have any other choice?" she asked.

"What's the weather gonna be tonight? So I know if I should drive safe," Wyatt asked, making her smile weakly.

"You should always drive safe, regardless, but it's light rain," she said, "with a 90% chance of heartbreak."

And with that she turned and exited, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

                                                                                                        ***

"Am I a bad person for wanting to be anywhere else, with anyone else, other than my wife right now?" Wyatt asked.

He'd swung by Rachel's and picked her up, and they were now headed to the school. Rachel was applying eyeliner in his car mirror as they drove.

"All the things you've done and this is what makes you question your moral fiber?" she asked.

"You're not helping."

"When have you ever known me to be helpful?"

"Alright, that...that's actually fair," he replied, the both of them chuckling.

"No, Wyatt, you're not a bad person for wanting something different now and then, I think almost eveyrone does," Rachel said, "what...what brought all of this up?"

"Nothing in particular," Wyatt said, lying. He sighed and thought back to earlier in his office, with Kelly. He would've kissed her. He would've given in, no doubt, had the moment gone on any longer. Lately, she was all that made him feel good. Truly, genuinely good. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled. This was awful. The last thing he needed right now in the midst of everything else was romantic feelings for a woman who wasn't his wife. Rachel finished applying her makeup and dropped her eyeliner pen back into her purse, now checking her lipstick. Wyatt glanced over at her and smiled.

"You look pretty," he said.

"Well thank you," Rachel said, "I always try and doll up if I'm going somewhere, especially to support the arts."

"I don't know if I'd call an elementary school play 'the arts'," Wyatt said, scoffing.

"Well, I don't think I'd call what I'm doing 'support', so that's fine," Rachel replied, the both of them laughing as someone behind them flashed their brights. Wyatt grimaced, and stuck his arm out the window, waving them around, but the car didn't pass. He shook his head and kept on driving until it happened, once, twice, three more times. Now, genuinely irritated, he started to mumble obscenities under his breath as Rachel added, "maybe there's something wrong with the car and they're trying to tell us."

Wyatt nodded, acknowledging this could be the case, as he pulled over and parked. He climbed out, and noticed the other car had pulled over as well. His blood ran cold. Rufus stepped out of the vehicle and Wyatt threw his arms up in the air in frustration.

"What are you doing to me?!" he shouted, "what, now you're gonna criticize my driving!?"

"No, actually, well, you are a little low in the back right tire, but actually I wanted to give you something before we go to the school," Rufus said, pulling his coat open and pulling out an envelope, handing it to Wyatt. Wyatt took it, cautously, eyeing his father as he opened it, pulled out the paper and started reading.

"...the fuck is this, dad?" he asked.

"That," Rufus said, as Rachel also climbed out of the car and approached Wyatt from behind, "is from my lawyer. He, along with my accountant, found multiple discrepencies in the books for the business. Now, it's possible they're just clerical errors. Lord knows you were never the best mathematician, but we're going to have to do some digging and see if it goes further than that."

"...are you...suing your own son?" Rachel asked, since Wyatt seemed to be too in shock to respond.

"Not yet," Rufus said, chuckling, "no, this is a precautionary measure to ensure we don't have to go that route. We're hoping to find nothing illegal, we're hoping to absolve him of any kind of accusation and-"

"You're a fucking piece of shit," Wyatt said, taking his father by surprise. Wyatt had sparred with him verbally before, but never had he outright said something that openly callous; Wyatt looked up from the papers at Rufus and added, "fuck you. Fuck YOU. Go fuck yourself. I'm not going to fucking court to prove my supposed ineptitude in  mathematics to you. Don't just get back on the horse you rode in on, but bend over so the horse can fuck you to death as well."

Rachel couldn't help it, she doubled over in laughter. After so many years of wanting to stand up to her own folks, it was somewhat cathartic to hearing Wyatt do that exact thing with his father.

"Nothing I've ever done has been good enough for you! Ever! I didn't wanna play baseball, you wanted me to! I didn't wanna work in this business, you brought me into it! Even Amelia wasn't good enough for you!"

"Wait, what?" Rachel asked, now recognizing thee name.

"I loved that girl to the moon and back and I ended things with her, with who might've been the love of my life, because she wasn't up to your bullshit standards, but neither am I! I never have been and I never will be, so why the FUCK should I keep caring what you have to say?!" Wyatt shouted.

"You're clearly unfit," Rufus said coldly, "not just to run a business, but to be a family man."

"Don't you DARE fucking talk about my family," Wyatt said, "at least when my daughter tells me she loves something, I do all that I can to help her embrace it rather than shame her and find an alternative! She wanted a horse, so I got her a fucking horse! At least I'm there! At least I'm not out there fucking random women behind my wifes back, like you did to mom!"

Rufus reached out and smacked Wyatt across the face, causing both him and Rachel to recoil in shock. The rain started to come down harder, and Wyatt snapped. He leapt at his father, taking him down to the ground, the two of them fighting in the gravel and mud. Rachel yelled, trying to get them to stop, but she couldn't do anything, as each was much bigger and stronger than she was. She saw some lights stop nearby. Another car? A passing civilian curious what was happening? It seemed to be the case, until she made out the figure coming up briskly behind the two men to be Angie of all people, and she felt confused and worried. Wyatt was on his back, Rufus on top of him, holding him down. And then, Rachel watched, in stupified horror, as Angie raised a shovel behind them and brought the head of the shovel against Rufus's skull, a loud cracking ringing out. Rufus rolled off his son, causing Wyatt to scramble as he backed away on the ground with Rachel's help. Rufus rolled over, bleeding profusely from his head, as he looked up at Angie and realized who it was now.

"Don't. Touch. HIM!" Angie screamed, beating Rufus's head in with the shovel as Rachel and Wyatt stared on in horror. after she was done, she stood up and looked up at the sky, shutting her eyes, letting the rain wash the blood off. She then looked towards them and she smiled, saying, "we have work to do, and we can't have anyone interferring. I'll go get a blanket from my car."

Rachel helped Wyatt up as Angie walked off, then returned and started rolling Rufus's body up in the blanket, opening her trunk.

"Wyatt?"

Wyatt was staring straight ahead in disbelief. He looked down at his hands, the blood on them. He was shaking ever so slightly, his eyes glued to the car in front of him, the body wrapped in a blanket being loaded into the trunk.

"Wyatt?" the voice asked again, and he turned his head to face Rachel, staring at him. She reached out and put her hands on his face, attempting to ground him. He shook harder, and she nodded, whispering, "it's okay, it's gonna be okay. Everything is gonna be okay."

She heard the metal clang of the trunk shut, and looked where Wyatt had been looking, and for the first time in a while, she felt genuine fear. Calvin had, up to a point, committed his so called atrocities under the pretense of noble morality. But this...this was just murder. And she was terrified. They weren't Calvin. They were so much worse. Angie shut the trunk and turned to face them, hands on her hips, before nodding in silence, Rachel returning the nod, before getting into her car and pulling away. Wyatt picked up his fathers keys from the ground and looked at them in his palm before handing them to Rachel.

"Take his car, drive far away from here," Wyatt said, "I'll tell Scarlett you were sick."

"Okay," Rachel said, not even hesitating, as she snatched them from his hand and did what he said. Wyatt then got back into his car and continued heading towards the school. Once there, he parked, headed inside, washed his hands off in the bathroom sink best he could and headed down the hallway. He could already hear the nursery rhymes being belted out by kids from the theater, but he stopped. Standing at the opposite end of the hall...was Amelia. He slowly approached her, and she looked him up and down.

"You look like shit," she said.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I came back to town to deal with my brothers estate, met a friend of his named Rachel, she invited me," Amelia said, "Wyatt...are you okay?"

Wyatt looked at his shoes, and then looked back up at her.

"I killed my dad," he said.

"Well, it's about fucking time," Amelia replied, causing them both to laugh. They didn't make it into the theater. Instead, they went back out to the parking lot and and drove away. Drove as far away from the current nightmare as possible. Inside the theater, though, a heartbroken Mona couldn't find her fathers face in the crowd, and Scarlett...well...Scarlett had finally had enough.

"It's sweet of you to get something like this," Kelly said.

She, Wyatt and Mona had been out on a trail, riding for a little while now. While Mona's horse trotted a bit ahead of them, Kelly and Wyatt stayed behind a ways to have conversation. Wyatt smirked and shrugged.

"I mean, how many dads can actually fulfill their daughters request of being given a pony," he asked, "I'm just lucky enough to be able to do so is all. Really nothing more to it than being fiscally well off."

"Thanks for inviting me," Kelly said, "I really needed this. I've been struggling so much lately with my leg and then the self worth that comes along with that, and so this is...this is nice. I needed this. Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Wyatt said.

But Kelly wanted to mention it. She wanted to mention how grateful she was to him, not just for this, but for everything. She wanted to mention so much more too. She wanted to mention how she felt. How much she cared about him. How much she wanted him to be hers. But she wasn't a homewrecker. She wasn't about to take a little girls daddy away from her, break up a seemingly happy marriage. That wasn't who Kelly was, nor was it who she wanted to be, so instead, she just smiled politely, nodded and agreed to not mention it.

Always opting to put others comfort before her own.

                                                                                                     ***

"You can't be serious," Celia said.

"I'm dead serious," Paul replied, "why is that so shocking to you?"

"Paul, you...you wanted to go discover who it was you wanted to be, and I respected that because we did get pregnant so young, I didn't wanna tie you down, and now seeing you as you are, a professional federal agent, it's impressive. I'm proud of you. But you chose the life you chose because you didn't want this one. The life that's mine. The life I wanted and stuck around for. He's your son biologically, but he's my son emotionally. I was here."

Paul nodded in agreement. He couldn't deny that, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt Celia or their son in some way. But he still wanted to be a part of their life. He sighed and drank from his coffee mug, then leaned back in the booth. He and Celia had come out to breakfast this morning while their son was at school, and actually have a discussion about this, but so far it hadn't really been going in his favor.

"Listen," he said, "there's no defense, you're right. You're one hundred percent right, and I ain't got a leg to stand on. But the thing is, we both are professionals now, and we both can give him a better life. Maybe split custody? I'm willing to move back. Lord knows I could do my job from anywhere, really. But please, meet me halfway Cels."

Celia rolled her eyes and chuckled. She'd always hated that nickname, and yet...there was something oddly endearing about being called it right now.

"I'm...willing to entertain some kind of compromise," she said, "but for his sake, not yours. And certainly not ours. You and I were finished the moment you left. I don't hold any kind of grudge against you or anything, but you do need to know that. That whatever it was we had...it's gone."

"I understand that and I'm by no means attempting to re-establish a romantic relationship with you. This is about knowing my kid, specifically," Paul said, and Celia nodded.

"So long as we're in agreement," she said.

Celia didn't know it, but she wasn't the only one busy. Rachel was currently in therapy, Wyatt and Kelly were horseback riding, and Angie...Angie was currently on her way to her former cults compound with Ricky by her side. Seemed everyone had an appointment to keep today.

                                                                                                          ***

Ricky had watched a lot of stuff about cults. Movies, documentaries, television specials. It was a special interest of his, but up til now, that's all it'd ever been. An interest. Never a direct experience or interaction. Now, sitting in Angie's passenger seat, on his way to meet her former cult leader, he had no idea what to expect, and frankly, as a private investigator, that excited him more than it probably should've. As Angie's car pulled up to the large front gate that led to the compound, Ricky had a sneaking suspicion he'd regret getting involved in this girls life, but he needed answers, and this might be a good place to start.

"Don't be weird," Angie said as she pulled in further, looking to park.

"You're one to talk," Ricky replied.

"Seriously," Angie said, "these people can smell fear like it's a pheromone from a wild animal. They will eat you alive. Don't be weird and stay close to me."

Angie eventually parked and shut the car off, herself and Ricky exiting the vehicle. Once he was out of the car, he stood and stretched, looking around, taking in the compound. It was lovely, well kept, one could even say flourishing. And everyone seemed friendly and approachable. But...that's cults for you, isn't it? Everyone always seems friendly and approachable. Rarely do you see a documentary or photos about a cult where people are displeased and non content. Angie stopped and stood by him, and together they began heading in a specific direction away from the car.

"So," Ricky said, turning the small recorder in his shirt pocket on without her knowing, "this is where you grew up?"

"For a bit," Angie replied, "until my folks decided to leave. That was why I joined The Evergreens. It was never about the message for me, well, it kind of was, I do care about the planet, but moreso it was about following someone. Someone with an idea, someone who was a martyr. Didn't know at the time what a horrible man Oliver Brighton actually was. Then, when Wyatt got me to not get on that plane and it crashed, I realized I'd been following the wrong man."

"So it's all about being led, for you?" Ricky asked, Angie nodding in response as he added, "and how does this connect to what's going on with Wyatt and everyone else? I don't understand."

"Cults have a lot of resources," Angie said, shrugging, "if anyone can find out who's behind it all...it's Art."

Ricky nodded and followed Angie in silence, hands in his coat pockets. As they passed by multiple people, all of varying ethnicities, body types, age, single people, couples and even full on families, Ricky started to wonder what exactly he'd gotten himself involved with here. Maybe, if he managed to get to the bottom of this situation, he could return with information about whoever was running this trafficking ring to Mrs. Grudin and she would be so disgusted she would forget about her want for revenge for herself and, instead, turn her sights to stopping this instead. Yeah, Ricky thought, and maybe I'll be the queen of England one day. Eventually they entered a lovely little cottage style home and stopped in the foyer.

"Art?" Angie called out in what was, to that point, perhaps the most polite voice Ricky had heard her use. After a moment, a well dressed, older man - who appeared to be in his early seventies at least - walked to the banister above them and looked down, smiling at her. She smiled and waved back as he began to descend the staircase.

"Angelica!" he said happily, "what a nice surprise!"

As he reached the landing, the two embraced, and Ricky immediately got the sense of history between them. Angie's folks may have managed to escape the mindrot of a cult, but Angie was clearly still attached. Ricky actually started to feel bad for her. Art then turned his attention to Ricky, who held his hand out to shake, which Art happily did.

"Ricky Loach," Ricky said, "nice to meet you. You have quite a place here, and I don't just mean your personal abode, I mean the entire compound. All the land. You must've bought it a long time ago."

"It came from my grandfather," Art said, "it was the one thing he left me. He purchased it with intent to do something himself, but he simply never had the means. He had the money for the land back when land was cheap, but never the money for construction of any kind. I like to think he'd be proud of what I've managed to build up here. So, what can I do for you today?"

"Art," Angie said, "we need help. It's a long story."

"Angelica, for you, all I have is time," Art said, smiling.

Hell, the guy was so charming, charismatic, that even Ricky had to remind himself what he was dealing with here so as not to get sucked in. The three of them made their way to the parlor, where Art had someone bring them food and drink, and Angie began to tell the entire story, as she knew it, from start to finish. Stuff even Ricky hadn't heard. By the end of it all, he felt worse by having helped Mrs. Grudin, considering Wyatt and the groups reasonings, and all they had been through together.

Maybe, he thought to himself as he listened, just maybe...there was a bigger story here than just some asshole politician getting killed in the crossfire. Maybe there was bigger justice to be served. And he wanted to help serve it.

                                                                                                         ***

Rachel was siting on the couch, her feet up on it, her arms hugging her knees, her eyes cast down towards her lap. The sound of the clock on the wall ticking ever so slowly, the sound of her therapist tapping her pencil. After a little bit, Rachel wanted to speak again, but what could she realistically say? Oh, by the way, did you know I'm involved a massive cover up of the murder of a politician, also the crash of a major airliner, the unintended manslaughter of an entire group of pseudo activists and we killed a friend of ours? Yeah. That would fly. She sighed and shook her head.

"Have you spoken to your parents since?" her therapist asked, and Rachel shrugged.

"Not really, no," she replied, "I'm honestly afraid to. I'm afraid they'll pull some kind of conservatorship nonsense, say I'm a danger to myself or some other ridiculously controlling bullshit like that. Sun keeps telling me I don't need them in my life, and she's right, but god it hurts being so alone, not having any parents, any family whatsoever."

Her therapist nodded in understanding, chewing her lip.

"Rachel," she said, leaning forward, "when I was in college, I worked at this juice bar, and there was this girl I worked with. She was another student, studying criminal psychology, her name was Alicia. Anyway, because we worked together, and we were the only two girls who worked there, we became kinda buddy buddy, you know? Looked out for eachother in the workplace, and were cordial towards one another on school grounds. The thing is, and I didn't realize this until years later when she came to see me at my practice, she was like you. But unlike you, Rachel, she allowed the fear of ostracization and her parents bigotry and rejection get the better of her. Granted, different time, but still. She married a man. She had three kids. And she was fucking miserable."

"Is this story supposed to make me feel better, cause I gotta tell ya, it ain't working," Rachel said, making her therapist smirk.

"Let me finish," she said, "she regretted so much of her life. She regretted having children, something she didn't even want, much less want with a man. That wasn't to say she was a cruel or neglectful mother, but more that she wished she'd never let the fears overtake her desire for happiness and self fulfillment. In the end, she left her husband, got joint custody of her children, and met a woman. She's happy now. She's happier than I'd ever seen her be. She was scared of losing her family just like you have, but she also came to realize that the people around her, in her community, who were her friends, they were her family now too. I know that's trite, cliche even, but it's the truth."

Rachel nodded slowly, taking it all in. In a way, she knew her therapist was right. She had Wyatt and Kelly and Sun Rai. She had a family of sorts. She had Calvin. But when she thought about that, it made her sad. After all...who kills their family members?

                                                                                                          ***

Wyatt and Kelly were putting taking the equipment off their horses while Mona put hers back in its stable. Standing there in the bright sun, watching Wyatt undo a saddle, Kelly leaned back against the fence, having finished her own work, and smiled as she viewed him. She had had such a good time, and she was so happy to have been given this opportunity not just to spend time with him, but also to go back to her all time favorite hobby. As Wyatt finished and lugged the saddle off, plopping it onto the bench nearby, he exhaled,, turning to look at her, hand on his hip.

"This was a lot of fun, thank you," Kelly said.

"Yeah, I'm glad we managed to do it," Wyatt remarked, glancing back at his daughter brushing her horse down; he chuckled then added, "Mona and I try to do a ride once a week, so maybe you can start coming along most weeks, if you're free. I know she'll still want ones just with me, which is fair, but."

"I don't wanna intrude," Kelly said.

"Oh, please, you revel at the chance of intruding," Wyatt said, the both of them laughing. He walked up to the fence and leaned back against it beside her, letting the sun warm his face. Kelly did the same. She leaned back and shut her eyes, breathing slowly, softly, trying to relax. After a few minutes, Wyatt opened his eyes and looked over at her. The sunlight was brightening her otherwise pale skin, and glinted off her eyelashes. Wyatt's eyes opened, and in that moment, he realized something he'd been trying to avoid. He swallowed and looked away.

"Imagine this being life," Kelly mumbled, "just this. None of the other stuff. Just horseback and work and parenting. You don't know how much you miss normal until you're face with abnormal. You're lucky. You're lucky to have all this. I'm envious."

"Envious of me?" Wyatt asked, laughing.

"Envious of Sc..." Kelly started, then stopped herself, bit her lip and shook her head, "yeah, envious of you, yes. I just have my apartment and my job, and it's nice enough, but being embroiled in all this extra nonsense..."

"I'm sorry for dragging you into all this," Wyatt said, sounding shameful.

"No, don't be. I waited my whole life to be involved in stuff. At least now I am," Kelly replied.

They looked at one another, and Wyatt slipped his hand into hers, squeezing, making her blush. Just then a car pulled up, and they both turned their focus to that, pulling their hands away once more. It wasn't anyone they expected though, in fact, it was just Angie. Angie parked and climbed out of the car, staring at them. She then glanced in the direction of Mona and back to Wyatt and Kelly.

"What are you doing here?" Wyatt asked.

"We need to talk," Angie said, "it's about-"

But before she could finish, yet another car pulled up, and this one made Wyatt's blood run cold. Rufus parked and climbed out of his car, smiling at Wyatt and the two women. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his sports coat and looked around the ranch.

"This is beautiful. Not your land, of course, I presume," he said.

"No, we just keep the horse here," Wyatt said.

"Every time I see you lately it seems you're with women who aren't your wife," Rufus remarked, making Wyatt grit his teeth.

"You know other women?" Kelly asked, trying to lighten the mood, making Wyatt smirk. He appreciated her so much right now.

"What are you doing here dad?" Wyatt asked.

"Went to the house to see my granddaughter, Scarlett told me you were here on a little riding trip, so I figured I'd stop on by," Rufus said, looking at Kelly and adding, pointing at her, "you look familiar. Aren't you a weather girl?"

"Yes I am," Kelly replied as he then turned his attention towards Angie.

"And you are?" he asked.

"Your worst fucking nightmare," Angie said, "I'll eat your sister."

Wyatt and Kelly had to do everything in their power to stifle themselves from laughing, despite knowing full well she wasn't kidding. Her response, in turn, certainly made Rufus back away a little. He started to pace between the cars, looking at the riding arena.

"Wyatt," Rufus said, "I just wanted to let you know that in a few weeks, I'll be bringing in an insurance adjustor to the store, as well as a management efficiency expert. Between their findings, whatever those may be, you might be relieved of your job. I hope this doesn't come as a surprise to you."

"Frankly nothing you do comes as a surprise to me," Wyatt said, narrowing his eyes at his father, "you really don't trust me, do you? You don't think I'm capable of running a business you yourself weren't interested enough to stick around for."

"Oh, I think you're plenty of capable, and I do trust you," Rufus said, "just not right now. You are slipping, and that affects everything and everyone around you, and until you can get stable again, I think it's in everyones best interests to take responsibility away from you."

"Grandpa!" Mona said, running up and hugging him tightly.

"Hi kiddo!" Rufus said.

"Are you coming to my play this week?" Mona asked, "I'm gonna be a teapot, and mom and her friend made my costume!"

"I'll definitely be there, wouldn't miss it for anything," Rufus said, patting her on the head. He then turned and walked back to his car, waved goodbye to everyone and started it up, pulling out and driving away.

"Mona, go get your backpack," Wyatt said, watching her run away; after a moment he exhaled, and felt Kelly's hand on his back, reassuring him as he said, "I can't wait for my father to die."

And Angie, ever the faithful, nodded in agreement.

Amelia opened the bedroom door and stood in the frame of the doorway, staring into its darkness. She hesitated going inside, as if she would be somehow violating Calvin's privacy, and then she remembered her brother had no privacy...she had no brother anymore. Amelia slowly set foot inside the room and flipped the lightswitch by the door, looking around as she did. She and Calvin had been close once, but that time had long since passed. Amelia got further into the room and sat down on his bed cautiously, almost as if he were still laying in it and she didn't want to disturb him, before looking to the nightstand by the bed and noticing a photo of the two of them as kids at a theme park. She smiled as she looked at it, wondering if she'd stayed if they'd still be close. She did always regret losing touch with him, after all, though she'd never admitted to him. And, really, truth be told, she always thought she'd be the first one to die.

A feeling which, at this very moment, Wyatt himself was wishing was true about himself and his father.

Wyatt and Angie were carrying a dresser off a moving truck while Kelly leaned against the wall of the apartment building, sipping her iced coffee.

"You need to tilt, you need to tilt forward, give me more leverage if we're gonna get this thing down the ramp," Wyatt said, groaning.

"I don't have much upper body strength," Angie grumbled, "what is inside this?! Your rock collection!?"

As they got to the bottom and dropped it on the ground gently, Wyatt leaned against it and wiped his forehead against his arm while Angie put her face down against the wood grain. Wyatt looked up to Kelly who just smiled at him, making him smirk.

"Can we get you anything? A pillow or perhaps one of those pair of binoculars rich people use at the opera?" Wyatt asked, and Kelly laughed.

"No I'm good, thanks," she said.

Kelly had purchased a new apartment and was finally moving out of her parents house, ready to be back on her own. Her folks were worried she wouldn't manage it, but she'd gotten better at walking with her new prosthetic and she was feeling pretty confident. She didn't have to walk down stairs, she could take the elevator, plus anyone at work would help if she needed it, and then of course she knew she could rely on Wyatt if she really needed to. Angie finally looked up and exhaled.

"I need two things, something to drink and somewhere to pee, not exactly in that order," Angie said.

"There's a corner store down the street," Kelly said, as Wyatt pulled his wallet out, grabbed some cash and handed it to Angie.

"Get me something too," he said, "root beer and some chips, don't care what kind, something sour cream related."

"You can't say you don't care then give me specifics, those two cancel one another out," Angie said, taking the money and walking off. Wyatt walked up beside Kelly and together they sat on a nearby bench, taking a moment to relax. As Angie disappeared down the street, Kelly, sipping her coffee, motioned towards her.

"What is with that girl?" she asked.

"It's a long story," Wyatt said, "so, are you...I mean, will you be okay? I can stay for dinner if you'd like."

"Oh?" Kelly asked, smiling, "inviting yourself in already?"

"I just don't wanna see my parents," Wyatt said, "my father's been...hounding me, and I'd really rather not see them. Supposed to have dinner with them tonight, but I don't wanna go home. I don't wanna deal with him. He's...he's terrifying."

Kelly was surprised to hear this fear from Wyatt. He'd always seemed so collected, so very sturdy. It didn't make her like him any less, of course, if anything it just made him all the more real to her. Wyatt sighed as Kelly handed him her coffee, and he smiled, taking a drink of it.

"You'd think," he continued, "that with everything we've been through, I'd be a rock by now, but, that just isn't the case. No matter what happens, no matter what I endure and survive, I think my father will always terrify me, and that sucks. I hope my children never feel terrified of me. I don't want that to be the thing they remember best about me, is their fear of me."

"I'm sure that won't be the case," Kelly said, taking her coffee back, "I know it won't."

Kelly lifted her drink back to her lips and Wyatt glanced at her, sideyed so she wouldn't notice his stare. It was early afternoon, the sun was bright, breaking through the leaves of the many trees that covered the sidewalk this apartment complex just happened to nestled on, and was lighting up her face. Kelly, with her big eyes and her small nose and her golden hair. Wyatt felt a pang of fear in his chest, and he looked away, clearing his throat.

"Yeah, well, I am gonna do whatever it takes to be his opposite," he said, "enough people fear me as it is, I'm sure. My kids don't need to be on that list too."

                                                                                                         ***

Celia had had a busy day.

First work, then she had to pick up her son, Daryl, and now the two of them were at the pediatricians office. He was on the floor, playing with one toy or another with a little girl around his age. Daryl was 5 and she was 7. Celia was glancing up over the top of her book on occasion and smiling at the sight before going back to reading.

"What are you in?" a woman asked, sitting nearby, making Celia chuckle.

"Um, he's having a problem sleeping through the night," Celia said, "I want to rule out anything like sleep apnea or whatever, you know? That way I can rest easy knowing he's resting easy. What about you?"

"My daughter's just here for a minor checkup," she replied, "nothing serious. We have other doctors to attend to her medical needs, this is just a general practitioner visit, you know?"

"I hope he's not running late, I have to get back to work," Celia said, checking her watch, "last thing I wanna do is be coming home late again. At some point the babysitter is gonna accuse me of child labor for all the hours she's had to watch him for me. Girl shouldn't be complaining, she's makin' a mint off me, lemme tell ya."

The woman snickered, and Celia smiled. It was nice, she thought, chatting with another mom. A totally normal, simple thing to do. Almost made her feel like her life wasn't the kind of fucked up twisted soap opera it was.

"What about his father?" the woman asked, and Celia sighed.

"We aren't together," Celia said, "he actually isn't even in town anymore. He wasn't abusive or anything, don't let me give you the wrong idea, we just...he had things he had to figure out, and we weren't as ready to have a kid as we thought. We were young. Believed in true love and all that nonsense that accompanies it. I try to hold no ill will towards him, but it can be hard. What about you?"

"My husband is dead," the woman said, sniffling, "um, but, you know, I make do. With settlement money, lawsuit money, money from his job, savings, etc. We manage."

"I'm so sorry, what happened to you-" Celia started, when a nurse came from the back with a clipboard.

"Leslie Grudin, the doctor will see your daughter now," she said. The woman gathered her things, stood up and took her daughter by the hand, waving goodbye at Celia, who stared on dumbstruck. She couldn't believe her eyes. Of all the mothers she could've been seated by, it was Leslie goddamned Grudin. And the worst part? This wasn't even the most shocking thing that would happen to her today.

                                                                                                             ***

"Where are Calvin's papers?" Amelia asked.

She was standing with her parents in the living room, the two of them seated on the couch watching a golf tournament while sharing a bowl of mixed nuts. Her father stood up, wiped his hands on his pants and motioned for her to follow him. As they headed down the downstairs hall, to his office, Amelia didn't know what to expect, really, from her brothers will.

"When you two were little," her father, Barry, said, "you guys used to hide things all around the house, remember? Little notes and stuff. Stuff for mom and I to find. You'd put 'em in our books, in our dressers, anywhere you knew was important enough that we would find them. So, when Calvin came to me, asking for a place to keep this kind of stuff once he was married and it became important to him, I knew just the right spot."

Barry opened the door to his home office, and the two of them walked inside, Barry shutting the door behind them. He then turned his attention to an air vent, pointing. Amelia dragged his desk chair over to the wall, climbed up on top of it and pulled the grate off, then reached inside, pulling out a folder.

"This isn't even a proper air vent," she said.

"No, it's not, I hollowed it out to make room for this specifically," Barry said, and Amelia couldn't help but smile at their fathers efforts for them. She climbed back down from the chair while he held it steady, then once her feet were flat on the floor, she opened the folder and looked inside.

"Anything in here I should know about that you already know about or?" Amelia asked, and Barry shrugged.

"I never read it. He named you the sole benefactor of his estate," Barry said, "didn't want us dealing with it. I think...I think maybe he knew how it would hurt us, because of the loss he went through firsthand. Didn't wanna impart that on his own folks on his way out."

Barry sat down in the chair and covered his face with his hands as Amelia shut the folder, tucked it under one arm and put her other hand on her fathers back, rubbing in a slow, soothing motion.

"I miss him so much," Barry whispered, trying not to cry, "...I can't believe he did this. I mean, on one hand, and your mother would never want to hear or agree with it but, on one hand, it really isn't all that surprising. He lost everything. He was lost, himself. He had a few friends, but that was it. Otherwise he spent most of his time out in the shed, working on various little projects. Keeping his mind occupied. Because that's what hobbies become when you have nothing else, they become your everything. Instead of a hobby, they become an outright distraction from the pain. When I was in college, my grandfather, who I'd been very close to, died suddenly, and as a result, I started building model airplanes with alarming regularity. It was something we'd done together. At first I figured, you know, it made it feel like he wasn't gone but...but in actuality all I was doing was hiding from the fact that he was. He was gone. And now my son is gone too."

Amelia, now doing her best not to cry either, leaned down and kissed her father on the head.

"I got this dad, you don't have to worry," she whispered, "I'll take care of it all. We'd always been close, so I don't mind."

After they left the office, Barry heading back to the living room while Amelia headed back to Calvin's room, all she could think about was how her father was right. Calvin's death, presumably suicide to his family - that's what it had been labeled as anyway, despite the shot being in a rather suspicious place - really didn't come as that much of a shock after the initial, inevitable shock. Calvin had always had one foot in the grave, she felt. They both hand, they were morbid, that was part of what they had in common. Amelia set the folder down on the bedside table and then curled up on her brothers bed once more, pulling a stuffed bunny to her chest and hugging it tightly.

Ironic, she thought. She always assumed she'd be the one to off herself.

                                                                                                       ***

Wyatt and Kelly were in her apartment loft, as Angie had to attend another engagement so she couldn't help finish the job. The place was spacious, with a sunken in area in the middle of the living room for a couch and a table, large sliding glass doors that led to a balcony, tons of closet space. Wyatt had to admit, he was impressed. He didn't know news anchors made this much. Course, Kelly probably got a mint from the airline for the crash, which probably didn't hurt. He dropped a box onto the floor and sat on it, as she came walking in.

"No no, don't sit on that!" she shouted, and he quickly leapt off.

"Sorry, I didn't...I didn't know it was fragile or something, it's not labeled," Wyatt said, as she opened the lid, revealing her plastic horse collection.

"Well why would I label anything, I moved across town, not to another city with a moving company handling it, I know what's in what," Kelly said, Wyatt smirking as she pulled out a few horses and checked them; after a moment she looked up at him and blushed, asking, "what?"

"Nothing, just...nothing. You're such a girl," he said, laughing.

"Ya know, girls aren't the only ones who like horses," Kelly said, standing up and walking to a nearby buit in wall shelf where she started to place the horses, adding, "I mean, most of the most famous people in the west were guys, cowboys. Gene Autry, Roy Rogers, Sherrif Matt Dillon from Gunsmoke. We're not the weird ones. Guys liked horses just as much. It's just that, at some point, society decided that horses were a girl animal and now guys are afraid to like them."

"I won't argue with you on that, cause you're right," Wyatt said, stepping down into the sunken area and plopping onto the couch as Kelly continued putting her horses on the shelf.

"I loved riding," Kelly said, "I'm so sad I probably won't get to do it again."

"Who says you can't do it again?" Wyatt asked.

"I mean, prosthetic leg, hello?" Kelly asked.

"So fuckin' what?" Wyatt asked, making her laugh; he leaned forward as she sat on the coffee table in front of the couch, and he continued, "I mean, you yourself told me about that girl in college, the track girl, and she had a prosthetic leg. You can do the same things you did before, Kelly, you're the same person. You're not fucking suddenly prisoner to some weird ass restrictions, okay?"

Kelly smiled and looked at her hands in her lap, playing with her false nails.

"Do you, I mean...have you gone horseback riding?" she asked.

"Kelly I'm rich, yes, I've been horseback riding. I don't know if you know this, but rich people use horses a lot. Fox hunting, polo, it's a little ridiculous actually, our reliance on the equine. Especially when we can afford Ferrari's," Wyatt said.

"Yeah but you can't hunt foxes in a Ferrari," Kelly said, as Wyatt snapped his fingers and pointed at her.

"No need for guns when you can run 'em down," he said, the both of them laughing. After the laugh ended, they sat in their respective seats and looked at one another. It was getting later in the day, and Wyatt figured he should be going home. He stood up, and she did as well, surprising him with her sudden movement.

"Are you going?" she asked.

"I really should have dinner with them, much as I don't want to," Wyatt said.

"Oh, right, okay that makes sense," Kelly said, walking with him to the door. As they got to it, Wyatt stopped and turned to face her.

"You wanna go horseback riding with me and my daughter?" Wyatt asked, and Kelly's eyes widened in excitement.

"Really?!" she asked, with the infectious enthusiasm of a kid on Christmas morning.

"Yeah, really. I bought her a pony, you know that. We can use some of the horses at the stable, just go for a ride. Prove to yourself you can still do it," Wyatt said, and Kellys face redened more than he'd ever seen as she looked at her feet, smiling like an idiot.

"I would love to," she said, "thank you."

"I got you girl, we'll go soon," Wyatt said, before exiting into the hall, Kelly holding the door open as he went. He stopped again and looked back once more, adding, "it's a nice place. I'm a little jealous. Hopefully by the time I come back, you'll have it fully furnished, and I can see all the things you're interested in so I can more accurately make fun of you."

"That's what friends are for," Kelly said, shrugging, the both of them laughing. He hugged her, then went along his way. Kelly watched him disappear down the hall, into the flight of stairs, and she sighed. She wanted him to stay. She wanted him to have dinner here, with her. She wanted to keep cracking wise, unpacking with him, and then, after they were finished, she wanted him to take her to the bed and make love to her. She wanted to feel him inside her, to feel like she finally understood what it was to be desired by someone. But he had a wife. He had a family, and children. Kelly would, as she'd done so many times in her life, have to live inside a fantasy instead.

Part of being a weather girl, really. Her head was always in the clouds.

                                                                                                         ***

Celia had put Daryl to bed and was finally winding  down for the evening. She was sitting on her bed, eating ice cream in her silk black and pink pajama set. She didn't have anything in particular on the TV, she was just watching it rather absentmindedly, but the background noise helped keeping her thoughts from returning to the afternoon. To the interaction with Leslie. She sighed and shook her head. After Celia finished her ice cream, she took her bowl to the kitchen, filled it with some water and left it in the sink. She would deal with it in the morning. Halfway back down the hall was when the knock on the front door came. She turned and walked back, peering through the peephole before sighing and opening it.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"We have to talk," Paul said, "We have to, Celia."

"...I won't fight you on that, I do think we need to talk. He's asleep already, in case you were hoping to see him."

"I can wait," Paul said, "but you and I need to discuss some things. Can I come in?"

Celia sighed and stepped aside, allowing her estranged husband to enter the house. Meanwhile, across town, Amelia had just woken up from a nap. She went downstairs and found it quiet. Parents already in bed, clearly. TV still on in the living room, but on mute. She clicked it off before hitting the bathroom and brushing out her hair. She then headed for the kitchen, made herself some cocoa and took it back upstairs. Once back in Calvin's room, she sat on the bed and set the glass down on the bedside table, atop the folder. As she moved to get into the bed, her knee knocked against the table, making it shake, the glass spilling a bit onto the folder and the photograph she'd been looking at of the two of them falling back between the table and the wall. Amelia grasped at her knee, wincing.

"Mother fuck," she whispered, before pulling the table out a bit to retrieve the picture. Instead, what her hand grabbed, was a small black book. She pulled it out and opened it. A day planner. And inside, on the day he'd died, Calvin had written one thing.

"Call Rachel."

"Who the fuck is Rachel?" she mumbled to herself, before flipping through and her eyes catching something else, from a few pages back. Something about a lunch. A lunch with Wyatt Bloom.

"Your father scares the hell out of me," Amelia said.

She and Wyatt were sitting in his bedroom, Wyatt on the floor leaning against his bed while Amelia was up in the nook of the large, round window overlooking his mothers garden. Wyatt was sipping from a can of soda as he looked through his collection of baseball cards, sorting them, organizing. Something he often did when he felt stressed. Amelia was sketching in her notebook, eating a cracker mix from a nearby bowl as she did.

"He scares the hell out of me," Wyatt replied, "I'm not sure if he knows he's intimidating or he does and he uses it to his advantage, but...god knows I'd never want my kids to be scared of me."

"I don't think it'd be a problem for me because I can't envision myself ever having kids," Amelia said, "I don't think I'd be a very good mother."

Wyatt grimaced. He wanted to be a dad someday, but he also wanted to be with Amelia, without forcing her to give up her autonomy. He wasn't sure how to reconcile this. He thought, maybe, with time, she'd come around, but...but what if she didn't? Would this lead to resentment? He wanted his future wife to be his best friend, not his enemy. Wyatt looked up towards her, diverting his attention away from his cards and to Amelia, smiling as he did. She looked ethereal, like a pixie, with her small face, her curly bangs falling halfway over her eyes, her small frame fitting perfectly into the windowsill as if it were custom made for her body.

"I hate playing baseball," Wyatt finally said, "my dad's the one who pushed me into sports. I mean, it's good exercise, helps you learn how to work with a team, sure, but it just...it isn't something I wanted. And then these cards...they were his, and he got me to start collecting, and I don't even like that. I feel like I'm nothing but an extension of his interests and not my own person."

"There's living vicariously through your kids and then there's whatever the fuck it is he's doing," Amelia said, making Wyatt laugh, which in turn made her smile. Wyatt stood up and walked to the window, climbing up onto the small built in wall bench in front of it. Amelia looked up from her notebook at him as he reached out and put a hand on her face. She shut her eyes and put her hand over his, enjoying his touch. Wyatt then leaned in and kissed her, and she happily kissed him back. Amelia had never felt this kind of love before.

And she never would again.

                                                                                                        ***

"You know, we could just cram a bunch of stuff into an underutilized piece of foreign bread and call it a specialty food and start our own business," Wyatt said, biting into his lunch, "people will try anything once. Look at folks who use cocaine."

"An odd jump to make but you're not entirely wrong," Celia replied, laughing.

Celia had come to his place of business to check up on him, have some lunch. Wyatt looked better than he had at the funeral, that was for sure, but he was still pretty not with it, wearing sunglasses indoors, not matching his clothes as well as he used to. Celia could tell Calvin's death had hit him really hard, harder than he'd likely ever admit. Wyatt picked up his root beer and took a long drink, then wiped his mouth on the arm of his suit before leaning back in his chair and burping. Celia smirked.

"So..." Celia started, "...things seem to have...quieted down, for the time being."

"Remarkable how that happens when you don't have someone constantly stirring the pot, isn't it?" Wyatt asked, "...still, I'd like to find out who was behind it all. Not the person who sent Ricky, we know that. We know that was Grudin's wife. I mean with Wattson. With the trade ring. That's the loose end that's eating at me."

"We'll figure it out, don't worry," Celia said, "in the meantime, just-"

"In the meantime," Wyatt interrupted, "I'm not able to just do anything. I can't focus, I can barely sleep, I've been drinking more. I don't...I don't like who I'm becoming. I know getting Calvin out of the picture was a necessity, hell, a prerequisite, even, but that doesn't make it easier to swallow. If anything, it makes it harder to SHIT."

Celia gave Wyatt a confused, but mildly bemused look until she noticed he was looking at his office door, now open, his father standing in its frame smiling at them.

"Hello," Rufus said, "I didn't realize you had company."

"I'm Celia Moss," Celia said, reaching out her hand to shake, which he politely did, adding, "I'm just someone Wyatt went to high school with."

Rufus then entered the room, and, standing between Celia and Wyatt, looked down at her.

"Would you mind giving us a few minutes?" Rufus asked, "I need to speak to my son about the business."

Celia glanced at Wyatt, who looked nervous as hell, but she couldn't really say no. Instead, she gathered her things, what was left of her lunch, her purse, her jacket, and headed outside the office. Leaning against the wall and continuing to eat gave her perfect earshot of the conversation going on inside. Rufus had sat down in the chair she had been seated in and crossed his legs.

"You don't seem particularly pleased to see me," Rufus said.

"I'm sorry I didn't throw you a ticker tape parade for coming into your old job," Wyatt said sternly, making his father smirk. He'd always appreciated his sons sense of snark, albeit generally moreso when it wasn't directed at him, which he found rather disrespectful.

"I don't know what Scarlett was talking about. You seem okay to me," Rufus said, which got Wyatt's attention. He looked up now.

"...Scarlett called you?" he asked.

"Everyone is worried about you, Wyatt. You look like hell, her words not mine though I certainly won't debate them, and she says you've been drinking more. As your father, it's my duty to ensure you're doing okay," Rufus said and Wyatt scoffed.

"No, it's your duty to ensure I'm still capable of running the business, which I am," Wyatt said.

"You think I don't care about my own sons well being?" Rufus asked, sounding genuinely hurt, which made Wyatt feel remorse. Wyatt sighed and shrugged.

"I...I don't know, dad, I just...I'm sorry. I've been under a lot of stress and-"

"The you go to a doctor. You get on medication. You don't do whatever this is," Rufus said, his tone now changing, colder, more direct, catching Celia off guard, but certainly not Wyatt, who was more than prepared for this having grown up with it.

"That's easy for you to say, Mr. My midlife crisis was paying showgirls in Vegas to hook up with one Another," Wyatt said, making his father glare at him until he added, "at least mine is just me being a little run down and drinking more, not cheating on my wife. Not that you ever loved mom."

Rufus stood up, the chair scooting across the floor, Wyatt now regretting his words. Rufus walked around to his side of the desk, hand planted firmly atop it, as he leant down and lowered his voice to a low growl.

"You listen to me," Rufus said through his teeth, his eyes boring a hole into Wyatt's, "and you listen damn good. You may be a grown adult, but that doesn't entitle you to the right to backtalk me. I put up with this shit when you were a teenager because adolescence is a time for rebellion. I didn't like it, but I would've been wrong to quash what was a relatively normal phase of growing up. But you're a fucking grown man now, you need to get your shit together and start acting like it, do you understand me? Because you think the worst I could do is turn your wife against you? Take this business back? Dream on, boy. What I could do is so. much. worse."

Wyatt, breathing hard and fast, nodded, giving in. Rufus smiled and patted him on the face with his other hand.

"Glad we had this talk, I'll be back in in a few days, and we'll be having dinner at your place soon," Rufus said, standing up firmly and heading to the door; he tugged it open and exited, saying goodbye to Celia as he passed by. Celia entered and sat back down, looking at Wyatt, pale as a sheet in his desk chair, one hand to his chest.

"That was brutal," she said, "you okay?"

"I'll be okay when he's dead," Wyatt said.

                                                                                                     ***

Something Wyatt had never told Scarlett, or anyone really, was that she wasn't, in fact, his first time, like he'd led her to believe. That was also Amelia. It had happened late at night, and had been unplanned. In fact, it hadn't even been on a date night. Wyatt happened to have Amelia over while his folks were out for the night, and she had been helping him with a science project. Sitting in his bedroom as they worked on it, Wyatt couldn't stop feeling so lucky for how smart his girlfriend was. Amelia stepped away from the table the project was atop of and put her hands on her hips, smiling.

"There we go," she said, "now that's a guaranteed A+."

"You're amazing," Wyatt said.

"I know," Amelia said, the both of them laughing. Wyatt was sitting on the bed, watching, as Amelia turned and faced him. Wyatt smiled at her, as the early evening moonlight peeked through the shuttered blinds and splashed across her face. She was so beautiful, and Wyatt had no idea why she was in love with him, but he was so grateful for it.

"What did you tell your parents about having to go out?" he asked.

"Just that I had to help a friend with a school project," Amelia repled, shrugging, "Seeing as I'm a good student, they don't question that, plus it's the truth."

"What, that we're working on a project or that I'm a friend? Cause I'd sincerely thought we'd moved past the friend phase," Wyatt said, making Amelia laugh as Wyatt scrambled off the side of the bed and reached under, saying, "by the way, I got you something!"

After a moment, Wyatt climbed back up onto the bed and held out a large case for Amelia. She took it, looking confused, and set it on a nearby desk, opening it, then gasping, a hand over her mouth. She slowly turned and looked back at him.

"I remember, months ago, you were talking about this specific kind of paint you can only get in France, so I looked into it, had my mom mail order some," Wyatt said, "I guess, now that you've helped me with this, it'd be a perfect time to give it to you, though I was gonna give it to you no matter what, so. I just wanted to do something nice for you."

Amelia had never had much luck with guys. She also hadn't really been interested, but the few times she'd been, it hadn't exactly gone well. The thing was, too, that she never expected to be with a jock. Okay, sure, Wyatt was only a jock by proxy of playing Baseball for their school team, and mostly because his dad made him, but he was, in fact, a popular jock, and yet he wasn't ashamed in the slightest to be dating who many considered the weirdest most socially unpopular girl in their school. Amelia pulled her glasses off her face, set them down on the desk, and then tied her messy frizzy hair up into a bun before walking to the bed, pushing Wyatt onto his back and climbing on top of him, surprising him.

"What, uh, hey now, this could be considered assault," Wyatt said, chuckling, and Amelia smirked.

"Do you want me to stop?" she asked, and he blushed, shaking his head; she bit her lip, then leaned in and kissed him as he reached over and shut off the bedside lamp. That first time was special. So many peoples first times are often awful, things they try to forget, but Wyatt and Amelia were lucky. They were really truly happy to be with one another, and afterwards, lying in the bed beside a sleeping Wyatt, Amelia couldn't believe what they'd done, not that she was regretful but just in the sense that they'd actually done it. She stood up and walked back to the desk, looking at the paints again, then glancing back over her shoulder at Wyatt, smiling to herself. This boy...this boy was such a good person. She felt so lucky. She wanted to spend her life with him. He had stolen her heart completely.

And just as easily he'd be the one to break it.

                                                                                                        ***

"He sounds awful," Celia said.

Celia and Wyatt had taken off from the office and driven up to pick up Celia's son from school. They then took him to a playground, and sat on the hood of Wyatt's car, watching him play with the other kids. Wyatt inhaled his joint then handed it to Celia, who partook. Wyatt exhaled and shook his head.

"He's a monster," Wyatt said, "an absolute monster. All he cares about is his empire of shit. He was so abusive to my mother, never physically - though it came close at times - but definitely psychologically, mentally, emotionally. If I hadn't had my girlfriend in high school...I don't know how I would've survived. She was a safe place for me in the midst of his bullshit."

"Scarlett seems very sweet and-"

"No, not Scarlett," Wyatt said, interrupting Celia, "the girlfriend I had before her. This girl, Amelia. She was the absolute sweetest girl, a totally different breed of person. There was just...no bad in her. I genuinely think I didn't become my dad because of her influence, because it would've been so easy to fall in line under his thumb. But she made me realize it was okay to be empathetic. To be what a man should be. Whenever my dad was awful, I would remind myself that not having his love didn't matter, because this amazing girl loved me instead, for who I actually was, not for who he wanted me to be."

Celia smiled and patted him on the back.

"You are a good man, Wyatt," Celia said, "I don't think anyone could ever argue otherwise."

"That's the thing, people could argue otherwise," Wyatt said, "I'm a perfectly curated lie. I've done awful things. But they've all been under the guise of good intentions. I'm just as bad as Calvin was, I'm just better at hiding it."

"No, Wyatt," Celia said, feeling truly bad that he believed this sentiment; Celia put a hand on his shoulder, causing him to look at her as she said, "Wyatt, listen to me, what Calvin was going to do would've been unforgiveable. Up to a point his decisions were understandable from his grief and pain, not justifiable but understandable...but what he was planning? That wouldn't have been okay. You. are NOT. Calvin."

Wyatt smiled weakly and nodded, taking another long drag on the joint before handing it back to Celia.

"So what happened to this amazing girlfriend?" Celia asked, and Wyatt sighed.

"I did something bad," Wyatt said, "...all because of my dad."

                                                                                                        ***

"I'm sorry," Wyatt said, his voice hoarse from crying, "...I'm sorry. I can't...I can't take it anymore. He's threatening to take everything away from me. Threatening to not help me with college, to...to not let me have the business. I need those things."

"More than you need me?" Amelia asked, her voice also broken from screaming and crying. The two had been arguing for hours, and now were just sitting on his back patio, near the pool. His folks were once again out for the night, trying to fix their marriage - ironic, Wyatt thought, taking relationship advice from a man who can't keep his own marriage afloat - and Wyatt had invited Amelia over after his fathers ultimatum.

"I'm not...I'm not good enough to do it on my own," Wyatt whispered, "I need his help. His resources."

"Bullshit you're not," Amelia said, "bullshit bullshit bullshit. You're so capable, dude. And I'll be with you. We can do it together."

Wyatt broke and started crying again. The pressure had finally made him crack. He didn't want to end things with Amelia, he loved her so much, but his father terrified him more than he loved her, at least in the moment. Amelia sighed and looked at the pool, trying not to cry again herself.

"...so that's it?" she asked, and he nodded.

"i'm sorry," he whispered.

"...it was supposed to be you, you know," Amelia said, sniffling, wiping at her eyes as he looked up at her, hating himself for making her cry as she added, "the future was supposed to be you. now i just don't want it. good luck with your father."

Amelia hopped down from her seat and walked briskly to the fence, pulling the gate open and exiting. He would see her around school for a bit, but avoid her best he could. His father would start treating him better because he'd listened. A few weeks later he would start dating Scarlett, a cheerleader, someone his father vastly approved of because of her conventional beauty and overt femininity. And a few weeks after that, Amelia would leave school, and soon the state entirely. So when Celia told Wyatt of the lives he'd saved by taking Calvin out, it didn't make a difference to him, because he'd already ruined the life of the only person he'd never wanted to hurt.

And there was no forgiving that.

Barry Klepper headed down the stairs, out through the kitchen, and across the back lawn to the shed. He tugged the door open, allowing light to flood in and looked around. He then grabbed the old push mower from the wall and tugged it out onto the lawn, where he stood with it, one hand on his hip, surveying the job before him. He heard the sliding glass door close and glanced to see his son, Calvin, coming up to him, his head wrapped in gauze, struggling to move on a cane. Barry smiled as Calvin approached.

"Are you gonna do yard work?" Calvin asked, "I don't think I've ever seen you do yard work."

"I've done yard work," Barry replied, laughing, "how are you feeling?"

"Bad," Calvin said, "really bad. How about you?"

"About the same, all things considered. Just happy to have you home."

Calvin stood by his fathers side and looked out at the lawn with him, one of his fathers hands on his shoulder. Barry shut his eyes and breathed in the pleasant afternoon air, just relaxing and enjoying the moment. Barry, his eyes still shut, could hear the sound of a gentle afternoon breeze wafting through the sky, through the leaves of the overhead trees in the backyard, and he smiled.

"You know things can't stay like this forever," Calvin said, causing Barry to open his eyes, Calvin adding, "you know you'll stop having these eventually, right? It's a trauma response. I'm gone, dad."

Barry looked at his son, and his son looked back and smiled warmly.

"I love you," Calvin said, and Barry woke up. He slowly sat upright in his bed and looked around the dark room. He climbed out, headed down the hall and down the stairs, where he got himself a glass of juice from the fridge, before heading back, stopping by the answering machine that sat on a small table by the wall. He reached out and searched for the message. The one from the police. The one that informed him his son had been shot in the head, and he was needed at the hospital immediately. Barry then headed upstairs and stopped at Calvin's room, opening the door and entering. He set his juice down on a bedside table and he laid down on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

"If only I knew," he thought, "that the last time was the last time."

                                                                                                      ***

Angie Dickenson was tearing ass down the freeway, rock music blaring from her car stereo. She was wearing a tight, slim dress and her hair was done in a pretty upbraid, with a pair of big black sunglasses on her face. She had a cigarette hanging from her lips, and she shifted gears as she glanced over at Wyatt in the passenger seat. Unlike Angie, Wyatt was disheveled. Well dressed, but disheveled nonetheless. To be fair, though, Wyatt had been sleeping like shit and drinking a lot. In fact, that's what he and Angie had been doing just before leaving for the service that morning. They had driven to an old timey themed saloon about an hour or so out of town just to get tipsy before having to see everyone.

"You don't think anyone will mind I came?" Angie asked.

"Who cares what anyone thinks," Wyatt said, even his words sounding tired, "who the fuck cares about anything."

Wyatt, since Calvin's death, had become increasingly withdrawn, morose, cynical. Moreso than usual, and it'd been up to Angie to help wrangle him back in, seeing as everyone else was still reeling from the reality of the situation. In fact, since Calvin's death, the group overall had barely spoken. Rachel had started going to therapy to deal with her parents rejection of her sexuality, while Celia had sunk herself into her work. Kelly, meanwhile, had undergone her surgery for her new prosthetic leg, and had been in bed recovering since then. This service today would be the first time they all had seen one another in months.

"You don't think he'd show up, do you?" Angie asked, and Wyatt shrugged. They were, of course, talking about Ricky

"If he's smart, he'll get out of town and cut ties, never look back," Wyatt said, rubbing his forehead, "that's what I'd do if I could."

Wyatt pulled out a pill case from his jacket pocket and popped some aspirin, moaning. He'd had a killer headache since last night, and drinking today certainly hadn't helped it. They were, at this point, about fifteen minutes from their destination, not that Wyatt was all that interested in seeing anybody. Since Calvin's death, he'd steered clear of most interactions, except for the times Kelly had needed help with her prosthetic leg. Other than that, he didn't want to be bothered. But Scarlett had sensed something was wrong. His whole family had. His father was apparently going to pay him a visit because of this recent behavior, which only resulted in more anxiety for Wyatt.

"Should I stand a bit aways when we get there?" Angie asked, not wanting to make anybody uncomfortable, a surprising show of empathy from her, Wyatt thought. He shrugged.

"I don't know, up to you," he replied, "do whatever you want."

So she would. Angie would do whatever she wanted. Advice he would later regret half heartedly giving her.

                                                                                                      ***

The night of Calvin's death, Ricky was strapped to the chair in the shed. It was dark, sans the moonlight coming in through a small window near the roof, and he had nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. Would he ever see his apartment again? Should he even go back to his benefactor, given the severity of the situation, or would she simply not believe him? Ricky exhaled and shut his eyes. His fish were probably dead. He wanted to cry. The door to the shed suddenly opened, and Ricky glanced towards it, expecting Calvin, instead surprised to see Wyatt.

Wyatt entered the shed, his eyes red like he'd been sobbing or rubbing at them, or both. He was quiet. Cautious. They didn't look at one another, and Wyatt didn't say a single thing as he entered and looked around the shed for a moment before finally turning his gaze on Ricky, who raised his eyebrows. After a moment, Wyatt sighed and looked around the shed again before speaking.

"Keys?" he asked, and Ricky nodded at a small box on a shelf. Wyatt walked to it, pulled the box down and opened it, retrieving the key and kneeling in front of the chair, beginning to free Ricky, much to his surprise.

"What...what are you...why are you..." Ricky started, but wasn't able to finish.

"I'm doing what should've been done a while ago," Wyatt said, "I brought you here, it only makes sense for me to let you go. Angie is outside, she's going to drive you back to your hotel. When you get there, you're going to take a shower, get some food on my expense, then head home."

The chains clattered to the floor, freeing Ricky, who rubbed his wrists. Wyatt looked up now, their eyes locking.

"Where's Calvin?" Ricky asked, sounding as if he already knew the answer.

"...he's dead," Wyatt said, "that's all you need to know. Now go."

Ricky stood up, then fell back into the chair, his legs wobbly. It'd been so long since he'd walked. Wyatt helped him back up, then helped him walk outside. Angie was leaning against the shed, filing her nails. When they got closer, Wyatt transferred Ricky's weight to her, and she took him happily. The three of them stood there for a brief moment, taking in the late night air, and Ricky couldn't believe how good the wind felt on his skin.

"Take him, then go home. I'll call you," Wyatt said, and Angie nodded. They all walked to the cars parked out front, Angie helping Ricky into hers, before turning back and looking at Wyatt. The two nodded at one another, then climbed into their respective vehicles and heading in opposite directions. As the car headed away from the house, from the shed, Ricky couldn't help but notice a smattering of blood on Angie's hand and shirt. His eyes scanned up to her face, and she was smiling, looking completely unphased.

"...what happened to Calvin?" he asked meekly, almost terrified.

"What could've happened to you," she said coldly, and that was enough to make Ricky not ask more questions.

                                                                                                         ***

Kelly Schuester was sitting on a marble bench in the cemetery, looking around at her surroundings. It was beautiful today. Rachel and Celia were both already here and were standing near Calvin's headstone, but she was staying a bit aways. She felt awkward, having come, considering her lack of proximity to Calvin. She hadn't been friends with him. But Rachel had invited her nonetheless, 'the more the merrier' she'd morbidly put it. She heard someone walk up beside her and glanced up, noticing Wyatt standing there, and she smiled wide.

"Hi!" she said brightly, then felt weird for sounding so chipper, considering.

"Everyone else seems to be here," Wyatt said.

"Yeah, but I didn't wanna interrupt," Kelly said, "Calvin wasn't my friend. I really only came to see you. Forgive me but I don't really feel the need to grieve the man who blew up the plane I was on."

Wyatt chuckled as he sat down beside her and pulled a small bottle of liquor from his jacket pocket and unscrewing the cap, taking a long drink. Kelly watched, concerned, as he finished and wiped his face on his sleeve. Wyatt then glanced down at her leg, noticing the prosthetic under the hem of her dress, before looking back up and catching her eyes.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"Is it difficult to live with?" he asked, nodding at it.

"It's whatever," Kelly said, shrugging, "I'm getting used to it. Starting to feel like I can take care of myself again, going back to work soon, going back to my apartment soon - or rather a new apartment - and that'll be exciting. Why are you drinking this early in the day?"

"Don't change the subject, that's rude," Wyatt remarked, smirking at her as he lifted the bottle to his lips again before she reached out and grabbed it, the both of them staring one another in the eyes; Wyatt felt Kelly slowly lower the bottle, his arm, and he looked at her confused before his eyes welled up with tears and he said, "I did this. This is my fault. He's gone because of me."

"He's gone because of his own decisions," Kelly whispered, "you guys did what had to be done. He was going to do something so much worse than what he did to me, and if I'm what helped break that cycle, then I'm happy to have been involved, even if unwillingly so. He had to be stopped, Wyatt."

Wyatt leaned against her and cried on her shoulder, feeling Kelly run a hand up into his hair and massage his scalp. Wyatt wanted to be like this with Scarlett, but she wasn't involved. She didn't know any of what had been happening, and he wasn't about to drag her into it. Besides, he always felt like he had to put on a strong front, be the baseball star she'd fallen for. She knew he was sensitive, but he was still embarrassed to outright breakdown in front of her, to have that cool guy facade crumble, and besides, when she did give comfort, it wasn't the kind of comfort Kelly managed to give him. Something about Kely's comfort felt effortless, Scarlett's felt forced, as if she felt uncomfortable doing it. After a moment, Wyatt sat back upright and wiped his face on his sleeve again, trying to regain what little composure he could manage to have these days.

"I guess we should go over there," Wyatt said, and Kelly nodded. He stood up and tucked the bottle back away into his jacket as Kelly stood up too, stumbling and falling to the ground, looking embarrassed.

"Sorry," she whispered, "I'm still getting used to this thing."

Wyatt smiled, helped her up, then picked her up on his back, giving her a piggyback through the cemetery. Kelly wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on the back of his, just enjoying the moment. Meanwhile, Angie was staying back at the cars, watching from afar, when she heard another car door shut and glanced to her right to see, of all people, Ricky approaching. He stopped beside her, looking far better than he had the last time she'd seen him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Been following you guys for a bit," Ricky said.

"Not still gathering info for your boss, are you?" Angie asked, taking a long drag from her cigarette.

"No, no, actually," Ricky said, clearing his throat, "um...actually, I'd like to help you."

Angie eyeballed him, curious, but cautious. She stubbed the cigarette out on the car behind her and nodded.

"Help us how?" she asked.

As Wyatt walked through the cemetary with Kelly on his back, approaching the headstone where the others were, he couldn't help but smile. Something about being here, in this moment, with Kelly on his back, was the best moment he'd had in months. Since Calvin's death. He stopped for a moment and looked around at the surrounding graves, taking in the statues and the various architecture of tombs. Kelly lifted her head and rested her chin atop his head.

"Why are we stopping?" she asked.

"Just taking a moment," Wyatt said, "I think it's nice here. Something soothing about cemeteries. Back in high school, I dated this girl, Amelia. She liked to have photoshoots in graveyards. Very grim and artistic, but very cool girl. We used to hang out in cemetaries a lot as a result. I guess being in one now, for Calvin, is making me think of her. Not because she still means anything to me, but because she's adjacent to the subject, considering her relation to the deceased."

They were only a few graves from Calvin's, where Rachel and Celia were posted up, talking, so Wyatt slowly lifted Kelly down. She stumbled against a grave, catching herself before he put a hand on her waist, helping stabilize her. She looked at him and smiled, the two facing one another, not saying a thing.

"I understand thinking of her," Kelly said, "but she isn't here, so. You should focus on the people who are here. Not Calvin, certainly not his sister. Focus more on the women who are here today, who love you."

"Oh, is that right?" Wyatt asked, "and who exactly did you have in mind?"

Kelly bit her lip, and Wyatt raised an eyebrow. But before anything could happen, Rachel had walked over. She put her arms around Wyatt, who happily hugged her back, before turning her affection towards Kelly. Together, the three of them walked back to Calvin's grave, Kelly holding Wyatt's hand tightly, partly for comfort, partly to help her from falling over. They stopped at the headstone and Wyatt nodded at Celia, who nodded back, acknowledging his presence. The four of them stood there, looking down at Calvin's final resting place, and Wyatt couldn't help but feel so incredibly guilty.

"...I told him I'd kill him," Wyatt finally said quietly, almost a whisper, "I told him I'd do it. After the crash. That day in the kitchen. I told him I'd kill him for what he'd done."

"You just arranged for it, you didn't pull the trigger yourself," Rachel said.

"That doesn't make me any less responsible," Wyatt said, "I'm who made it happen. He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve any of what happened to him. His wife, his family, taken from him in that manner. His sister being sent out of town. None of it. But...but there's right and wrong ways to cope with something, and he kept choosing the wrong way. Was his anger towards Grudin justified? Absolutely. Hell, I'd even go so far as to say that his want to kill the man was also understandable, but he followed through on every single bad impulse."

"And that's the difference," Celia chimed in, "you looked for every possible alternative before doing the last resort. That's what makes you two different. You are not Calvin, Wyatt. I hope you know that. I really do."

"I try to believe it, but it's hard," Wyatt said, sniffling, feeling Kelly squeeze his hand tighter, "I admit, I miss him. He was a mess, but...fuck. I miss him. That's the weirdest part of all this, is how much I miss him. I guess, in a way, if it hadn't been for him, we all wouldn't be here together today, and I suppose I owe him that. Owe him your friendship. But he's also why we're in a lot of trouble. We can't be reckless anymore. We can't be Calvin."

"Agreed," they all said in unison.

"So what do we do now?" Rachel asked, and Wyatt shook his head.

That was the million dollar question.

"Well, think of it this way," Kelly said, resting her head on Wyatt's arm, "things can only get less complicated from here, right?"

                                                                                                           ***

Amelia Klepper had been watching a documentary about ghosts when she'd gotten that phone call. The one from her father, telling her her brother was dead. She could recall the moment, even now months later, with absolute clarity. She didn't cry, she didn't scream, hell she didn't even pause her program, no instead she simply laid on her side on the couch and curled up into a ball and stared in silence at the screen. Calvin was dead. Amelia felt, deep down, that it was only a matter of time before this happened, honestly. Ever since losing his family to the accident, she felt he was on a path for ultimate destruction of his own undoing.

And now, months later, Amelia was piling bags into the trunk of her car, and shutting the lid. She looked back at her apartment and sighed. She'd be back shortly. She just had to go to town to help deal with Calvin's will, settle his estate. After the accident, he and Amelia had sat down - he'd come for a visit - and written up this will just in case. It had to be changed now anyway, considering he no longer had a wife or children. Amelia was now the sole benefactor, and that required her to be in town to deal with. Amelia walked around and opened her car door, climbing inside and starting the car. As the car burst to life, so did the stereo, playing America's "A Horse With No Name". Amelia turned the volume up and backed out of the parking lot, then headed out onto the road.

And she drove.

She drove so far, rarely stopping for anything. She stopped now and then to nap, to use truck stop bathrooms, to grab some more food, but otherwise she drove and drove and drove. Calvin being gone was so surreal and yet so normal. Perhaps it was the distance, having been so far away for so long now that lessened the blow, but in a way, she also felt like she'd never really known who her brother actually was. In fact, that sentiment wasn't far off. She knew nothing about his inclination for revenge, his interest in explosives, all the things Wyatt ended up knowing. Amelia was scared to see her parents, but she'd been doing better. Much better. She had to be strong for them now. The lost their son. But they were about to regain their daughter.

Every cloud has a silver lining, she thought.

Wyatt was standing in his bedroom, staring at the full length mirror in the corner, as he got dressed. He was wearing black slacks and a tucked in button down brown shirt. He put a green tie around his neck and tied it tightly, then picked up the comb from a nearby table and started working on his hair. He didn't really know why he was doing this. It wasn't like he was going to something fancy. He was going to do something terrible today. He didn't know if murder really called for looking good while you commit it. The door to the bathroom opened and Scarlett came out in her robe, drying her hair with a towel. She stopped and looked at him, smiling.

"Hey, look at you," she said, "What're you all dressed up for?"

Wyatt chewed his lip and thought.

"I have a meeting," Wyatt said.

It wasn't a lie, really. He turned and looked at his wife, approaching her and kissing her.

"I'll probably be late for dinner," he said.

                                                                                                            ***

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Kelly asked, sitting at her parents kitchen table, eating crackers as Rachel sat across from her, tapping her nails nervously on her coffee mug.

"Not at all," Rachel said, "but...it's time. I need to do this, like, for myself. I can make a clean break if it goes the way I'm expecting, and that'll be good for me, good for my life. Who needs that dead weight anyway. But I won't lie and say I ain't anxious about it."

"Well," Kelly said, "you know if anything goes wrong, you'll always have my parents."

Rachel smiled, lifting the mug to her lips and taking a long sip. Kelly's folks had been nothing but loving of her, especially lately, and it did ease her mind a little knowing that she had something of a family to fall back on if and when things with her own folks went to shit. Rachel checked her watch, then looked back up.

"Hey," she said, "when are you having your surgery?"

"Oh, in a few weeks," Kelly said, "and then it's another few weeks of laying around. You know, for as much as you wanna do nothing when you're a kid, once you're an adult you realize it's boring as hell lying in bed all day. Wouldn't recommend it. But at least I'll have a wicked cool cyborg leg at the end of it, so I guess it all evens out."

"How're you gonna predict the rain without your bad hip?" Rachel asked, making Kelly laugh, snorting.

"Actually," Kelly said, "everyone at the station has been so nice about it. Very supportive. It's pretty cool to have a whole building full of people wanting the best for me. Weird, but cool. One of my managers kids asked if they could sign my new leg and I had to tell them it wasn't like a cast, it would come off almost instantly, if it stayed on at all. Either way, it's nice."

Rachel nodded. It must be nice, she thought, to have people, total strangers, who care so much. It was one thing to have family, but a whole group of coworkers? Closest thing Rachel had to that was Wyatt and Calvin, and she knew that wouldn't last much longer...Rachel bit her lip and tried to keep her mind on tonight. On Sun Rai, and seeing her parents, and coming out.

"I'm scared," Rachel said quietly, "I'm scared as hell."

"Hey, you'll be okay," Kelly said, reaching across the table and holding her hand, "everything will be okay. If I can survive a plane crash, you can survive this."

Rachel wanted to cry. She was so happy to have her best friend back.

                                                                                                             ***

Angie, much like Wyatt, was getting dressed. Though, in her case, her outfit consisted mainly of jeans and a baby tee because she didn't really see the necessity to look good for this sort of occasion. She stood in the bathroom, in front of her mirror and brushed her hair, then applied some light makeup and stared at herself. All she'd wanted since her parents had left the cult was to follow someone, to have a reason for living more than just living, and now she was being granted that request, being asked to do something for the greater good. She could do this. She could. She exited the bathroom and found the house empty. Her parents must be at work. Angie headed down the stairs, grabbed the spare keys to the house and exited, locking the door behind her.

Wyatt was already waiting outside, much to her surprise. Angie approached the car and pulled the passenger door open, climbing inside. She pulled the seatbelt around her as Wyatt started the car up and pulled away from the curb, back onto the road.

"Didn't know you'd be here already," she said.

"Wasn't waiting long, for what it's worth," Wyatt said.

"You look nice," Angie said.

"Well," Wyatt shrugged, "wasn't exactly how to dress for such a thing, so I just dressed like I normally do for work. So we're gonna meet Calvin at this little river, somewhere we've met before. Familiar. Comfortable. He won't suspect anything there."

"Are you okay?" Angie asked, reaching out and touching his arm.

"I'm fine," he said through his teeth, "just...I hate that it came down to this. I did everything in my power to avoid this outcome, and it wasn't enough. He just seemed like he wanted things to go down like this regardless of anything else. But I hate it. I hate this. He was my friend. He's Rachels friend. The whole situation sucks."

"Some people don't want to be saved," Angie said.

"That sounds like cult talk," Wyatt remarked, and she shrugged.

"Just saying that some people are so deadset on a course of destruction that they can't see past their blinders and, as a result, this is the only outcome they can see for themselves, or the only one they're destined for. We're doing the right thing, Wyatt. You were right. We're doing the right thing here. He'd only hurt more people. Hurt a child. We can't allow that. If we don't stop him, he'll just keep going, making it worse. What if, after tonight, he decided this wasn't enough and he wanted to kill everyone related to Grudin? There's no end to this besides the end we're giving it."

Wyatt was impressed. For someone relatively off their medication most of the time, Angie was making a surprising amount of sense. Still, he felt guilty. Not just for what was going to happen to Calvin, but also for taking advantage of Angie's mental illness. But, much like he'd done with Calvin, he did everything he could to persuade her not to follow him, and she wouldn't listen. Like she said, blinders. After a bit of driving they finally arrived at the river, and Wyatt parked. He knew Calvin wouldn't be here for a while, and for that he was relieved. Would give him some time to come to terms with what was about to go down. Wyatt climbed out of the car and sat on the hood, opening a can of soda he'd brought with him. Angie sat down beside him and looked out at the water.

"At the compound," Angie said, "there was a river like this, and one day, early in the morning, this dad took his kids and his wife out to it and drowned them all before drowning himself. When the leader, Art Johnson, spoke about it later that day to everyone, he said that this man had done what he knew was best for his family. But...the thing is...most people don't know what's best for everyone, and it isn't fair for one person to go around making decisions that affect others on such dramatic levels. That's what Calvin's doing. That's what makes him dangerous."

"You don't still talk to this Art do you?" Wyatt asked, crossing his arms.

"Sometimes, through e-mail, but not consistantly," Angie replied, shrugging, "anyway, that's not the point, Wyatt, the point is that most men seem to believe that causing destruction is the key to control. You're the opposite. You're destructing the self destructive. That's admirable."

Wyatt smiled weakly. He appreciated Angie's kind words, especially tonight.

                                                                                                           ***

Celia was in her kitchen preparing dinner, her son sitting at the table reading a picture book. As she turned the oven on, her cell phone rang and she groaned. She picked it up and answered, continuing on her duties as she talked.

"Hello?" she asked, and then she stopped dead in her tracks, "...what do you want? No, I won't discuss this. You made your decision, leave us out of it. No, that's all I have to say about it. He doesn't wanna talk to you. We're about to have dinner anyway, goodbye."

With that, she hung up the phone and looked up over the stove to her son, who seemed undisturbed by the call. She exhaled slowly and tried to regain her composure. It'd been a while, after all, since she'd spoken to her ex-husband. Meanwhile, across the city, Rachel and Sun Rai were pulling up at Rachel's parents house. Parking in the driveway, Rachel sighed, gripping the steering wheel tightly, clearly scared. Sun Rai kissed her on the cheek and put a hand on her back.

"Hey, we can go home," Sun Rai said, "we don't have to do this."

"I have to do this," Rachel said, "I...I have to."

Rachel undid her seatbelt and headed up the walkway, Sun Rai quickly catching up to her. As they stepped onto the porch, Rachel stared at the front door. The knot in her stomach grew tighter, and she swallowed her pride. She hadn't gone home proper in years, despite living not so far away from her parents. Being here now felt so surreal, especially with Sun Rai in tow. Rachel lifted her hand and rung the doorbell, knowing her mother preferred that to knocking. After a moment, the door swung open and her father, Scott, stood there, smiling at her.

"Rachel," he said, pulling her in and hugging her tight, much to her surprise; while hugging, he added, "you're just in time, dinner is ready right now."

Rachel took Sun Rai by the hand and led her into the house, Scott shutting the door behind them as he followed them to the kitchen. Rachel's mother, Elizabeth, was plating the table, dishes full of food in the center so everyone could serve themselves, just like she had always done. In a way, it suddenly felt like Rachel had never grown up and left this place. Stepping back in felt just like going back in time. As they entered, Elizabeth looked up and smiled too.

"You're here!" she said, excitedly.

"I am here, yes," Rachel said, opting not to hug her mother.

"Well please, have a seat, we're about to eat!" Elizabeth said, and so Rachel and Sun Rai did as they were instructed. So far, this was pleasant, and Rachel didn't know what to make of it. But of course, first impressions are often wrong, as she'd learn soon enough. It was weird, Rachel thought, to feel like a kid again when she was a full ass adult, but...perhaps that was just the effect parents had on ones mental faculties. Sun Rai patted Rachel on the back as they sat down, and then, as Elizabeth brought them plates to work with, Sun Rai leaned in and kissed Rachel on the side of the head, knowing that eased her pain. Rachel saw the look on her mothers face the instant Sun Rais lips made contact with her skull. This was going to be the same as it always had been. A mistake.

Elsewhere, Calvin tucked his pistol into the back of his pants under his belt and looked at himself in the mirror. He exhaled. Tonight, tonight after meeting with Wyatt, he was going to head to Leslie Grudin's house, kill her daughter in front of her, and then kill her. Then he'd come home and decide what to do with Ricky. On one hand, Ricky was an innocent, but on the other hand, more witnesses meant more credibility to their eventual testimony, and he couldn't risk that. He'd probably kill Ricky too, much as he hated the idea. Poor guy didn't know what he was getting involved with. Calvin ran his hand through his hair and exited the bathroom. As he headed down the stairs, he stopped and looked at a frame photo on the wall of himself, his wife and their daughter. He reached out and touched it gently, smiling, before continuing down the stairs. Once he reached the landing, he saw his mom and dad watching TV on the couch. His mom looked over her shoulder at him and waved.

"You going somewhere?" she asked.

"Yeah," Calvin said, "I have an errand to run, meeting with someone, but I'll be back a little later. If you guys are in bed, I'll try to be quiet."

"Just drive safe," his dad said, and Calvin nodded.

"Love you guys," Calvin said as he grabbed the doorknob and opened the front door.

"Love you," the replied in unison, and then he exited. Calvin headed down the driveway, got into his car and started it up. He turned the radio off, opting for silence instead, and headed towards the river. Whatever Wyatt wanted, he knew it wouldn't last long. He'd already made his decision, and nobody was going to talk him out of it. Thing was, Wyatt had made his decision as well, and only one of them could come out of it unscathed.

                                                                                                             ***

"I always saw myself as a pirate," Wyatt said, making Angie chuckle; Wyatt smirked and shrugged, adding, "I mean, I know it's not, like, a legitimate career field, but hey, I was 9. I certainly never saw myself working for my father, taking over his store and stuff. I don't dislike it, but at the same time..."

"You wish you'd been a pirate?" Angie asked, and he nodded, the both of them laughing.

"Life just never goes the way you want, even when you plan it to a tee," Wyatt said, "I mean, god, if I'd known what my life was going to become simply by attending my high school reunion, I doubt I would've done that too. Everything since then has become so unstable. Course, that'd mean not knowing Rachel or Kelly or Celia, but...do the pros outweigh the cons, that's the question? The cons have been pretty...con."

"I wish my parents hadn't left the church," Angie said, "so I know what you mean. I'd planned to spend my whole life there, serving Art, spreading the word, but now I feel like I'm drowning in a world I don't understand. Meeting you was like being thrown a life preserver in an ocean of confusion, finally, something that makes sense, reaching out to save me."

Wyatt felt his stomach drop. Angie was looking for something to make sense of the world, and here he was, taking advantage of that, even if it was what she wanted.

"I'm not someone to worship," Wyatt said, "I hope you know that."

"I'm not helping you cause I worship you," Angie said, "I'm helping you because, as you said so convincingly, it's the right thing to do. Worshipping you is a whole other thing. The two are unrelated. But you were right. We need to do something. He can't continue to do these things. That man at the compound, he hurt his own family, but Calvin's going to hurt someone elses family, and that just doesn't seem right. Not that hurting your own family is right, but, you know what I mean."

"I do," Wyatt said, "...and you're right."

Just then they heard a car pulling up behind them and were illuminated by headlights. The car parked and Calvin climbed out, surprised to see Angie.

"Hey Calvin," Wyatt said, "glad you could make it."

                                                                                                       ***

"How's work?" Elizabeth asked, spearing potatos on her fork, "have you been painting?"

"I work in a coffee shop," Rachel said, "Actually we both do. We work together. But I guess I've been painting, with my friend Scarlett. She does art therapy with her daughter once a week, and I go to that. It's just at their house, but it's a good way to be social and do some painting."

"Well that's good. I always thought you had more talent that you regularly presented," Elizabeth said as she started eating her potatoes from her fork.

"Yeah I'm glad to know you haven't given up," Scott said as he picked up his glass and took a sip, "I always thought you could've had more success than you tried for."

"I tried for it and it almost got me raped," Rachel said sternly, surprising all three of them. Elizabeth, after a moment, exhaled, shrugged and speared a piece of meat.

"Well," she said, "I guess that explains this then."

Rachel's eyes widened.

"Explains what?" she asked.

"This attempt at being modern," Elizabeth said, "don't get me wrong, I get it, we all give into fads when they're cool, and there's nothing cooler today than being queer, but at some point you have to wonder if it's worth the effort. But, if a man tried to hurt you, it makes sense you'd go for a woman."

"I liked women long before he did that," Rachel snarled, "jesus, this is exactly what I expected."

Rachel stood up and tugged at Sun Rai's hand, who didn't even need much help getting up, as she was already in the process as well.

"Stop being dramatic, we're trying to better things," Scott said.

"You know," Rachel said, "you remember Kelly? She fell out of the fucking sky recently. A whole plane crashed, and she was the only survivor. She's going to get a prosthetic leg and yet, her parents let her move back home and are taking care of her, helping her recover. That's what parents do. They don't belittle every single choice, or non choice, that their child has. I chose to paint, and you turned it into a career, not because you believed in me, but because you saw a viable ability to retire on the back of. I love women and you make it because I can't 'trust' men when one of my closest friends is a man. Kelly's parents love me, and my own can't. Do you have any idea how alone I feel?"

"If you feel so alone, then stop running away from people who're trying to help you," Elizabeth said, and that was all she needed to say. Rachel walked briskly out of the house, Sun Rai right behind her. Out in the driveway, Rachel tried to get the car keys from her coat pocket, but fumbled, dropping them on the ground. She leaned against the car and breathed fast, heavy. Sun Rai gathered the keys and opened the car, telling Rachel to get into the passenger seat, which she did. Sun Rai started the car and pulled away from the house, racing down the street. She'd never seen such viciousness directed to someones child. Her parents had given her a bit of grief from time to time, but nothing like this. This vile, unadulterated hatred that Rachel apparently had to endure her entire life. After a bit Sun Rai pulled over in a parking lot of a convenience store, and parked.

"Are you okay?" Sun Rai asked, and Rachel, doing her best not to sob, just shook her head.

"It's not me, I have to remember it isn't me," Rachel said, her voice shaky, "but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, because, fuck, why would anyone treat their child like this?"

"That was...intensely awful," Sun Rai said, "I'm so fucking sorry you had to grow up with that."

"I just want my parents to love me," Rachel whispered, "god that's so depressing."

"I love you," Sun Rai said, making Rachel turn and look at her, smiling weakly as Sun added, "you have friends who love you, and you have Kelly's parents, and...Rachel, I...I don't know what to say to make any of this better, but I love you. Look, you wanted two things for a majority of your life. For your parents to love you, and for me to love you. Which one is worth more?"

Rachel smiled more, and leaned in, kissing Sun Rai. She was right. She was so right. This love was more than her parents could ever give her, and she was happy enough with that.

                                                                                                              ***

"Didn't know we'd have company," Calvin said, approaching the river.

"Well," Wyatt said, "can't hurt to have more than one mind on something, can it? Anyway she's more for moral support thann anything. Calvin, what you're thinking of doing...I mean, I know I can't stop you or probably even change your mind, but think about what you're actually doing. Everything you've done thusfar has been in the name of protecting children. Grudin killed your daughter, so you killed Grudin. Brighton hurt his daughters, so we eliminated his work from the world. Wattson worked for an empire of child abuse, so you took care of him. Everything you've done has been for the sake of saving kids, and now you wanna turn around and kill someone elses?"

"It isn't about her," Calvin said, "it's...it's about him. It's about Grudin. Any trace of him in this world existing, it isn't fair. It isn't right."

"She's a child, Calvin, christ," Wyatt said, "look, we'll come up with something together, okay? I know that having his wife bearing down on us isn't great, and yes, something has to be done about it, but...we'll figure it out together, okay?"

Calvin walked to the river and looked out, listening to the sound of it, the sound of the crickets, and he sighed.

"I just wanted to make things right, but no amount of anything will make things right. There's no getting it right," Calvin said, pulling the gun from the back of his belt and adding, "what I loved is gone, and there's no righting that wrong. The world is awful, so I'm just trying to make it less awful."

"But you're doing the same things you don't want others doing," Wyatt said, "Calvin-"

"I'm sorry Wyatt, I have to do this," Calvin whispered, and Wyatt sighed. That was it. There was no changing his mind. Wyatt put his hand on Angie's shoulder and turned, heading back to the car. Wyatt got into the car as Angie approached Calvin, standing beside him.

"You know," Angie said, "my family used to belong to a cult. I watched plenty of people die for no good reason. Some took their own lives, some took the lives of others, their own families, all for the sake of what they thought was the right reasons. Your wife and daughter, you're right, it isn't fair that they were taken the way they were from you, and you have every right to be mad and want justice. I won't even do the cliche thing and say 'think about what they would want you to do' because they're dead, how they feel is irrelevant. But Calvin, everyone has a choice. On the chance and afterlife of some kind exists, the things you've done are justifiable to an extent, but this? This wouldn't be. This would keep you away from them for all eternity. Do you want that? To lose them twice?"

Calvin started crying and lowered the gun, shaking his head.

"Give me the gun," Angie whispered, and she carefully took it from his hand, backing up a bit behind him, "Calvin, that's what you have to ask. What do you want most in the whole universe?"

"...to be with them again," Calvin whispered, as Angie raised the gun behind his head.

"Then today's your lucky day," she said softly, pulling the trigger. Calvin dropped, landing face first in the water, the lower half of his body still on the riverbank. Wyatt shut his eyes and dropped his forehead against the steering wheel, sobbing. He'd done everything he could've to prevent this. He did. He did he did he did. The passenger door opened and Angie climbed in, exhaling. Neither one said a word. Wyatt had made good on his threat. He had told Calvin he'd kill him, and in a way, he had. How was he going to go on with this guilt?

"Now what?" Angie asked, but Wyatt couldn't respond. Angie instead leaned against him, rubbing his back, speaking softly, "it's okay. You're okay. We're all okay."

                                                                                                         ***

"Hey," Wyatt said, approaching the metal picnic table out on the courtyard, Calvin looking up from his bagged lunch; Wyatt continued, "Can I sit here?"

"I can't stop you," Calvin said, shrugging, "not sure why you'd want to. Don't you wanna sit with the team?"

"The cumraderie gets to be too much," Wyatt said, "sometimes I don't wanna be reminded of being a part of a team like that. I like my solitude."

A few seconds later, Amelia sat down as well next to Calvin, smiling across the table at Calvin.

"Hi," Amelia said, opening her notebook.

"Amelia, this is Wyatt, he's on the baseball team," Calvin said.

"Hey," Wyatt said, grinning, making Amelia blush; Wyatt unwrapped his sandwich and took a big bite, then added, "I see you guys out here everyday, just figured it'd be nice to be around other people who have no interest in being social. Feels like more my speed sometimes."

"Doesn't make us friends," Calvin said, turning his attention back to his book.

"Hey, we don't need to be friends, we can just occupy space without acknowledging one another, it's just lunch," Wyatt said, opening his soda and taking a long drink as Amelia nudged her brother with her elbow.

"Come on," Amelia said, "it wouldn't kill you to make a friend."

Wyatt was sitting on the bleachers of the baseball field, staring at the ground. He was still in uniform, and everyone else had left ages ago, it was just him now. He could've gone home, but he just didn't want to. He sighed, pulled his cap off and ran a hand through his hair. That's when he heard the sound of someone approaching, and looked up to see his father, Rufus, coming up to the bleachers, hands in his pants pockets. He must've come right from work, he was still in his suit.

"You alright? Mother said you didn't come home, so I figured I'd find you here," Rufus said.

"I'm....whatever," Wyatt replied, shaking his head. Rufus sat down on the bleachers and exhaled, putting his hands on his knees.

"You know," Rufus said, "this isn't exactly a bad thing. I know it sucks, but...it is what it is. If anything, what you're doing is going to only improve your life down the road. I know it hurts now, but...now is now. Everything hurts in the moment. She wasn't right for you."

"She was perfect for me," Wyatt muttered, sniffling, "and...and I didn't wanna hurt her like that."

"Course you didn't, nobody wants to hurt someone they're dating, or, I mean, sometimes they do but breakups are rarely intentionally cruel," Rufus said, "but Wyatt, you gotta pull yourself tgether. It's what's best for both of you, alright? This Scarlett girl, she's far more your type, she's gonna do wonders for you, trust me on that. That other girl, what was her name, Amelia? You guys were just too different."

"No, we weren't," Wyatt said, "you and she were."

Rufus and Wyatt stared at one another, and Wyatt knew underneath that this comment had made his fathers blood boil. Anytime he managed to stand up, say his father was a bastard, even in a thinly veiled way, enraged him, and that's the way Wyatt liked it.

"Either way, it's good all around. And you know what they say, a good compromise always leaves everyone angry," Rufus replied, smacking his son on the back, "get in the car, we'll go get dinner."

                                                                                                               ***

"This is delicious," Angie said through her full mouth, the enormous burger clenched tightly in her hands; Wyatt had picked her up and invited her out to lunch during his downtime at work, and offered to pay even. Angie couldn't say no to such a treat as this.

"I told you it was a good place," Wyatt remarked, using a toothpick, "their cheese fries in particular are a thing of beauty."

"Isn't it weird how cheese goes with almost everything? It's one of the very few foods that can be adapted to almost any dish, and instantly improves it threefold," Angie said, "you just...don't ever think about how magical it is."

"Did you just call cheese magical?" Wyatt asked, laughing lightly.

He liked Angie well enough, but he was putting on a particularly nice front today, because he needed a favor. A big favor. The kind of favor that could ultimately change a life forever, and he didn't want her to say no. Angie continued eating as Wyatt leaned back in his chair and continued picking at his teeth. He'd barely slept last night, instead staying up, revisiting childhood memories in his head, and when he wasn't doing that, he was spending all his time worrying about today, and what was to come after as a result.

"Listen," Wyatt said, finally tossing the toothpick on the table, as Angie looked up midchew; he sighed and leaned forward, "I need you to do something."

Angie chewed slowly, listening.

"I..." Wyatt said, his voice low, running a hand through his hair as he looked around to ensure nobody would hear him, "...I need you to kill someone."

                                                                                                         ***

The door to the shed opened, and Ricky opened his eyes. The sunlight was refreshing, albeit brief. Calvin had covered up the windows, seemingly just to punish Ricky, so he took whatever little slivers of sunlight he could steal. Calvin entered the shed and shut the door behind, then set whatever it was he brought with him on the workshop table. Calvin didn't even look at Ricky, let alone say a word to him, so Ricky just kept quiet. After a little bit, Calvin reached up to a small metal box on a shelf and pulled it down, setting it on the table alongside the other things, and then finally turned to face Ricky, which made Ricky tense up.

"I've been thinking about what you said," Calvin said, "remember, the other day when you asked what good could come killing an innocent child? You're right. No good can come from it. His wife is the one who really deserves to hurt, and I can't think of a better way to make she she feels the same kind of loss I have than by making her watch her child die in front of her, while she's helpless to stop it, just like I had to."

Ricky got a chill and shook his head.

"No, no man, weren't you doing all this to protect children? You were harming people because they were hurting children, and now you're gonna sink to the same level and still claim moral superiority? You don't get to do that."

"That's the thing, Rick," Calvin said, opening the steel box and reaching in, "I do get to do that. They say two wrongs don't make a right, but that's what I've learned, is that nobody cares about doing what's right. You can try, but you're never doing enough. Someone else is always in the crosshairs."

Calvin pulled his pistol from the box and Ricky felt his skin goosebump. Calvin turned and looked at Ricky, then opened the barrel to check how many bullets were in it, before shutting it again and looking back at Ricky.

"Dude, listen to me," Ricky said, "there's other aveues you can take. What happened to you? That was awful. Unforgiveable. I can't even imagine what it must've been like to-"

"No, that's the thing, you can't. You can't imagine it. You're right," Calvin said, "because it's a special kind of hell reserved for only to unluckiest of souls. To spend your whole believing you're not worthy of being loved, of watching your sister get hurt by people who claimed to love her, and then to somehow get lucky enough to meet someone who does love you? Loves you so much that they don't want anyone else? Someone who loves you enough that they want to marry you, start a family? Only to have that taken from you? Yeah. You can't imagine that. There's plenty of ways one could imagine that kind of loss, grief, pain that someone is experiencing because so much pain IS universal. But this kind of pain? This is unique, and I wouldn't want someone else to feel it."

"Someone except the one who caused it? But she didn't even cause it," Ricky said, and Calvin raised the gun, putting the barrel right between Ricky's eyes; Ricky grimaced and shut his eyes, ready to feel the eternal nothing, but instead he felt the cold metal leave his skin and opened one eye again, to see Calvin putting the gun in the back of his pants, under his belt.

"I'm gonna bring us some coffee, snacks, and then you're gonna tell me everything you know about her like I said," Calvin said, turning and heading back to the door, grabbing the knob, then asking, "Two sugars?"

"P...please, if you don't mind," Ricky said, as Calvin nodded and shut the door. Ricky unclenched his body and swore that he hadn't peed himself since childhood but goddamn if he didn't just come close.

                                                                                                            ***

Sun Rai was in the kitchen, doing dishes, when Rachel came in, putting the cordless phone down on the base. Sun Rai turned and looked at her, surprised by the somewhat eager look on her face. Sun Rai then dried her hands and turned to face Rachel as she came further into the kitchen.

"What are you so happy about?" Sun Rai asked.

"I wouldn't say happy, hopeful is maybe a better word," Rachel said, "I just got off the phone with my mother and I don't want to tear my skin off, so that's progress. Anyway, she invited me to dinner, and I asked if my partner could come, and she said sure. She said she was interested in meeting who I was dating."

"Wait wait wait," Sun Rai said, shaking her hands, "wait a minute, aren't you not out to your parents?"

"I wanna change that," Rachel said, "a friend told me the other day that, like...a lot of stuff I'd been blaming myself for for years aren't my fault, and ya know what? Neither is my shame about who I am. That's associated entirely with my folks. I'm not ashamed of myself, I'm ashamed that they would be ashamed of me, but I wanna try regardless. If you're comfortable with that, I mean."

Sun Rai walked up to Rachel and took her face in her hands, planting her lips on Rachel's, with Rachel happily kissing her back.

"Only if you're sure," Sun Rai said, "I'll do anything you want. I want to support you."

"And maybe I can start coming to your folks, helping you with your dad and stuff? I mean, that's...that's what partners do, right? We share one anothers lives."

"I'd love if you did," Sun Rai said, leaning back in and kissing her again. Rachel was terrified, she couldn't deny that, but at this point, after all she'd been through, been a part of, god, being openly queer was the last thing she should ever be scared of, no matter what her parents reactions might be. And really, it didn't matter. All that mattered was her happiness, and right now had that in spades, kissing the girl she'd loved a good percentage of her life in her kitchen, and nobody could take that away from her.

                                                                                                         ***

Angie was staring at Wyatt, still chewing. She finished chewing, picked up her glass and took a long sip, then set the glass back down on the table and folded her arms.

"Why?" she finally asked.

"You said you'd help me," Wyatt said, "you said...you said I saved your life, that unlike Brighton I was a selfless kind of savior, and you'd rather help me than someone who was nothing more than a wrongfully selected martyr responsible for horrible actions. Those were your words, Angie. So I need your help. Calvin is gonna kill a child. A mother too, but the child is my actual concern. This little girl is developmentally disabled, mentally challenged, and my own daughter has some of these types of issues. I...I'd feel personally responsible if I didn't try to stop him."

"How have you tried?"

"Every possible avenue has been exhausted at this point short of going to the police, but that would just incriminate all of us and I can't do that to Rachel and Celia," Wyatt said, looking down at the table,, at his hands, sniffling, "...Angie please. I don't know what else to do. Where else to turn. I...I need you."

Angie felt for Wyatt, she did. His words were coming from the heart, and he was doing this for a good reason. But she'd never killed anyone before. Could she even do it? She chewed on her lip and thought briefly. She exhaled and looked at the table.

"I wanna help you," she said, "and I would, but...but this is a big ask, Wyatt."

"I know. But rest assured, if anything comes of it as a result, I will make sure you aren't held responsible. I'll take the blame," Wyatt said, "you don't deserve to go down for something you're only tangentially related to. This is our mess, but...but right now we need help keeping it in check. If Calvin does what he's saying he'll do...he's gonna ruin all our lives in addition to murdering a child. Rachel doesn't deserve that. Celia has a son, she doesn't deserve to be taken away from him. If anything, I'm the only other one remotely responsible for what happened to Robert Grudin. I'll be the one taking the fall. But they don't deserve that."

Angie leaned back again and sighed. This was a huge thing to be asked, but Wyatt was doing this for such good reasons. Not only to save his friends from recourse, but also to save the life of a literal handicapped child.

"...how do we do it?" Angie asked.

"I have a plan," Wyatt said, "but...it's gonna be shaky."

"Like anything in my life has been anything but," Angie replied quietly.

                                                                                                            ***

That evening, Calvin made dinner for his folks. Something just told him, in his gut, to do something nice, likely to offset the evil shit he was about to attempt. Afterwards, while he was doing the dishes and his parents were watching TV in the living room, eating ice cream, he thought about some of the things Ricky had said, and he grimaced. He knew Ricky was right. Hell, he knew what he was going to do was wrong on so many levels, but...but the idea that Grudin's child was alive, the idea that Grudin's wife was coming after them, after everything Grudin took from him, it just made him so mad. Blinded him with irrational rage, allowing him to justify things he otherwise normally wouldn't. He set the brush down on the edge of the sink and put the wet plates on the side to dry when the landline on the wall rang. Calvin went and picked it up.

"Hello?" he asked.

"It's me," Wyatt said, "what are you doing tomorrow?"

"I have some plans, but not til much later in the evening, why?" Calvin asked.

"Cause I wanted to see if you wanted to meet, discuss some things. I think you need someone to talk to," Wyatt said, and Calvin paused, hesitant, chewing on his cheek.

"...you wanna talk to me? Because the last time you and I were alone, you told me you were going to kill me," Calvin said, "and now you wanna talk to me?"

"I just wanna talk with you before you go through with whatever it is you're planning on doing," Wyatt said, "just humor me. If I can't talk sense into you, then feel free to go along with your plan, but let's at least discuss it first, yeah?"

Calvin sighed and sat down at the kitchen table. He glanced towards the living room, hearing his parents laugh, and he scratched his forehead.

"Alright," Calvin said, "tomorrow evening. Maybe 7pm. Meet me by the river where we shredded the stuff from the unit."

"Sounds good," Wyatt said, before they each said goodbye and respectively hung up. Sitting in his car, Wyatt looked at his cell phone and shook his head. Angie bit into her ice cream cone and patted him on the back.

"This is the right thing, you know," she said, "he's dangerous."

"I know," Wyatt whispered. But it being the right thing didn't mean he wanted to go through with it. He wanted to actually find a middle ground they could agree on. Some other kind of less violent vengeance or something. But he knew it was of no use. He knew Calvin had made up his mind a long time ago. Wyatt started the car and began driving, taking Angie home. There was never a middle ground, and besides, like his father had tried to tell him, a good compromise always leaves everyone mad.

Rachel had woken up, her eyes blurry, her mouth dry. She couldn't recall even falling asleep, but she must've, and she must've fallen asleep on the couch. She rolled over and sat up, stretching. Rachel stood up and suddenly heard something, a soft kind of walking sound, heavy and slow. Her eyes scanned the room. Whatever it was she couldn't see it. Then she heard the breathing. Low. Breathy. She slowly turned her head to face the kitchen and screamed. There, peeking around from the corner, with their elongated neck and their transparent skin - veins and blood all visible - was the See Through Horse. Rachel screamed at the top of her lungs, and then woke up.

This time she was lying in bed, and Sun Rai was next to her, trying to calm her down. Rachel immediately pushed herself into Sun's chest, no explanation given, and started sobbing. The medication was working, but it wouldn't last forever, and sometimes she still had the dreams. She knew she'd have to get a legal prescription soon enough, but for right now, she'd enjoy feeling safe at her most vulnerable. She'd worry about everything else tomorrow. And that's exactly what she did. Come the following morning, Rachel called in sick to work and headed over to Wyatt's. Standing on the front porch, waiting for the door to be answered, she chewed her lip nervously. When the door finally swung open, Scarlett stood there.

"Oh," Rachel said, "hi!"

"Hey! What are you doing here?" Scarlett asked.

"Well, actually I..." Rachel thought, and then remembered something, "...could we go see Mona's horse?"

                                                                                                         ***

Wyatt was sitting at his desk, shuffling papers around, when the door opened. He looked up and saw Celia stroll in. Wyatt smiled, always happy to see her, but she didn't look too thrilled. Celia took a seat, putting her purse on the arm of the chair, and waited as Wyatt finished compiling some things into a manilla folder.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" he asked.

"You left a message on my answering machine," Celia said, "about Calvin."

"...right," Wyatt said, sighing, leaning back in his chair and adding, "uh, yeah. Yeah. He's...he's gone off the deep end. Not that he wasn't close to the edge of it to begin with, but he's really gone off now. Um. Grudin's wife has hired a private investigator to find out what happened to her husband. Calvin currently has him tied up in his shed. I didn't wanna pull you into this, but you...you're like...the only morally conscious one of us and I need some kind of guidance here."

"Well jeez, you just come out swingin' both barrels, don'tcha?" Celia replied, making Wyatt chuckle.

"It's bad, Celia. He's planning on killing her. And their daughter. A little girl. A mentally challenged little girl. An innocent fucking kid. As the father of a child who has developmental issues, I...I'd feel like a hypocrite if I was okay with this happening. Regardless of that, I'd feel like a monster if he killed a kid. I feel like he's sunk to their level and there's no going back. We've been running in circles. We do one thing, he does another. We fix it, he does something worse. We get away with that, he plans something else. He needs to be stopped."

Celia crossed her legs and smoothed her skirt out as she looked at Wyatt, her eyes serious.

"So what do you propose?" she asked.

Wyatt stood up and started pacing behind his desk, scratching the back of his head. He groaned and leaned against a wall, his forehead on the plaster.

"...I think you know what we have to do," he said quietly, "I just...I can't do it. I can't do what he does. I don't have it in me. I think something broke inside Calvin when he lost his family, and he's...he's now capable of monstrous things, but I'm not. I can't sink to that level. But if I don't do something, he'll do something even worse than anything he's done before. At what point does it become socially acceptable to stop someone no matter what the cost?"

"Some folks would say never," Celia replied, "but me, personally? As a mother of a child? Yeah, he needs to be stopped. So let's come up with something before he makes a move."

Wyatt knew he could count on Celia for her honesty and wit, that she was the only one truly law abiding person among them, and if even she was on board with getting rid of Calvin, then there was no denying the truth. They had to get rid of Calvin. One way...or another.

                                                                                                           ***

"I'm just surprised is all, I don't peg you for the horse riding type," Scarlett said as they approached the stable.

"I used to be," Rachel said, "I used to be super into horseback riding. My friend Kelly and I really bonded over the interest and, god, my room was full of horse stuff. Horse stuff and art supplies."

"What stopped you?" Scarlett asked as they approached Sugarcube's stall, his face hanging out over the wood. Rachel looked at him, and sighed.

"There was an incident," Rachel said, "I...I was with this girl when she got kicked in the head. And all because she was doing something for me, so, like, it's my fault, really. I've never liked horses much after that. She suffered serious brain damage, had to drop out of school, start her whole life over like she was a child. I just...kinda vowed to stay away from horses after that. The weird thing is...I was nearly sexually assaulted by my manager when I was in college doing art, and yet, even with that, I didn't run away from art. Doesn't make sense why I'd run from one but not another."

"Because you recognized his actions weren't a direct result of you," Scarlett said, catching Rachel off guard; she turned and looked at Scarlett, who leaned against the stall and shrugged, folding her arms, continuing, "like...you weren't responsible for his reprehensible behavior towards you. Therefore, art wasn't tainted. But you felt personally responsible for what happened to this girl, and therefore horses were tainted. It all comes down to a matter of perspective, something you should be very familiar with considering you're in the art world."

Rachel chuckled  a little and looked back at Sugarcube. He whinnied and shook his head, like he was waiting for something to happen.

"But I can promise you that you're not responsible," Scarlett said, "People make decisions and we live with the ramifications. We react accordingly. Doesn't make us responsible. Especially for such things that were truly accidents or out of our hands. Now, say, you were drinking and driving and you killed someone, that you're responsible for. You chose to do something that directly endangered another person, willingly. But these things? No. They aren't your fault."

Rachel nodded, listening, her thoughts turning to Calvin. He was the one making the decision to kill Grudin's wife and daughter. She wasn't responsible for what might happen to him as a result. She was, if anything, doing the right thing by telling Wyatt. Rachel sniffled and wiped her eyes on her sweatshirt sleeve.

"After it happened," Rachel said, "I started having these dreams, about this...this see through horse with an elongated neck. I never understood why, and it terrified the shit out of me. I'd wake up having these screaming fits, and then...then it progressed to hallucinations. I was put on medication for a while in school until it stopped being so frequent or stopped altogether. I got the horse part, that made sense, but...a friend once asked me why it was transparent and I couldn't answer. Seemed random."

"It's not," Scarlett said, "No, I...I used to do this thing with my cousin where we'd interpret one anothers dreams and so we got all these dream meaning books out of the library and stuff cause, ya know, teenage girl shit, and actually something that’s transparent or see-through can represent something that's seeming to lack substance, meaning, or importance. So really, what your subsconcious is telling you is that this moment that you deem so pivotal to your life and person, this moment that you hold yourself responsible for? It really is nothing more than a small blip on the radar that is your existence. It doesn't mean anything. It has no power, no importance. You're the one who assigned it that. But in reality, it was just a shitty thing that happened."

Rachel slowly turned and looked at Scarlett. Nobody, not even therapists she'd seen, had ever once given her a remotly plausible explanation for the horse. And yet here was Scarlett, a random stay at home mom from a wealthy neighborhood, who managed to give her an actual answer. Rachel turned back to facing Sugarcube and slowly reached out. Her palm inches from its face, she looked back at Scarlett who smiled and nodded. Rachel put her palm on the horses nose and smiled, tears running down her face.

The See Through Horse didn't mean a goddamned thing. But real horses?

Real horses meant the world to her. And she wasn't responsible for what happened, to that girl...or to Calvin.

                                                                                                          ***

"There's no good outcome to this, is there?" Wyatt asked, slumped in his desk chair as Celia, her legs up on the desk, shook her head.

"Not really, no," she said, "but that's what you work with when you're involved in this level of crime."

"My life was easy," Wyatt said, "before the reunion. Before Calvin. It wasn't perfect, but hell, it was as close to perfect as one could hope to achieve these days."

"What would've made it perfect?" Celia asked.

"Rocket car, obviously, duh," Wyatt replied, making her laugh as he continued, "all I'm saying is that I had the closest thing anyone can have to perfection, and now...now my life is an out and out mess, and for what? Calvin is a victim, sure, nobody would deny that, but at the same time he's creating victims and acting as if its morally justified."

"The thing you need to remember, man, is that we've done everything short of going to the police and putting ourselves in the line of sight to keep Calvin in check. He continues to push forward, proving that he's not manageable, and if that's the case, if he's threatening children now, then something more drastic does need to be done. We've exhausted all our other options."

Wyatt nodded, knowing full well Celia was right, and hating to admit it. He'd tried reasoning with Calvin. He'd tried getting others like Rachel to talk him down. He'd tried threatening him. He'd done everything he could, and Calvin still wouldn't see reason. He was a man blinded by rage disguised as justice. Wyatt leaned back in his chair and covered his face with his hands, groaning.

"Wyatt," Celia said, "it's awful, but you and me, we have kids, we know what he's debating doing isn't okay."

"I know."

"Then you also know that what has to be done HAS to be done," Celia said, "I'm not really a pro-murder kinda lady, but if someone has reached a point where they're willing to harm a child to teach an adult a lesson, then they've lost all credibility in my mind. And, to be perfectly honest...Robert Grudin didn't deserve to die. He shouldn't have been allowed to stay in politics, continue running for office, and yes he was slimy about not openly apologizing for his actions that took Calvin's family away from him, but...I don't think that warrants him being blown up. I think his wife has every right to be mad and want vengeance."

"You're not wrong," Wyatt said quietly, "I just...I don't care about what happens to me, I just don't want you guys to go down too."

Celia smiled. Wyatt really was a selfless individual, and she admired that about him. His worries weren't about himself, his worries were for the friends around him that could be seen as co-conspirators. He didn't want that for them, he knew they deserved better.

"Promise me something," Wyatt said, leaning forward in his chair, "if, when this all ends, if I go to jail, just...make sure my daughter knows the truth."

"I'll let her know what a brave man her father was," Celia said, patting Wyatt's hands and smiling.

And it was a promise she would keep.

                                                                                                       ***

"Thanks for taking me," Rachel said.

After the ranch, she and Scarlett went to lunch downtown, and now, sitting in a booth, each finishing their respective meals, Rachel felt like she owed this woman the world for opening her eyes.

"Eh, don't mention it, ain't no thing," Scarlett said.

"No, really, I...my parents made me believe that everything was my fault, that I was to blame," Rachel said, "and that isn't a fair way for a child to grow up, let alone an adult to continue living. That isn't to say some stuff isn't, but the majority of things that happened to me weren't my fault, and it's time I stopped believing that they were. I've been thinking about coming out to them lately."

"Yeah?" Scarlett asked, leaning back in the booth and using a toothpick on her teeth.

"It's scary, but...but I want to try and have an open and honest relationship with them, and if they can't accept me for that, then I'll know it's a fruitless endeavor," Rachel said, shrugging, crossing her arms, "like...my parents already blamed me for my near assault, made me feel responsible for the horse incident, and so I don't have a lot of faith that they'll accept me for my sexuality, but hey, at least I can say I'm the one who tried."

"That's the spirit," Scarlett said, smiling, "and hey, for what it's worth, you deserve to be respected and accepted. If my daughter were to turn out to be any flavor of queer, I'd still love her just the same, so remember that no matter what happens with your folks, you'll always have your friends. I'll always be here for you."

Rachel smiled weakly and thought about her parents. And then about Kelly's parents. And then about Sun Rai. Scarlett was right. She already had such a strong support system, so it didn't really matter whether her parents loved her or not in relation to who she was, but...it'd be nice, she wouldn't deny it. When Rachel got home that evening, she found Sun Rai already there, making dinner, and she hugged her from behind in the kitchen, just holding her and swaying gently. Everything Rachel always wanted was right here, parents be damned. And when Scarlett got home, she found Wyatt there, with take out and a bouquet of flowers. He apologized for their recent fights, and Scarlett felt lucky to have such a wonderful husband.

But Calvin...Calvin waited untl his parents were asleep, and then he carried a plate of food from dinner out to the shed for Ricky. As he unshackled one of the mans hands so he could eat, Calvin sat in front of him and watched.

"...you've met them, right? If you work for them, you've obviously met them," Calvin said.

"Yeah," Ricky said, eating like he was starving, "yeah, I've met her, and her kid."

"Tell me one thing," Calvin said, "if you were me, and he took your wife and daughter away...would you have done the same thing?"

"I don't think how you feel is monstrous, I think that's perfectly normal," Ricky said, chewing, "but acting on it? That's an entirely different situation. Everyone WANTS revenge, but that doesn't mean it's justifiable. He's dead, man, what good could come from killing his wife and daughter? He won't be alive to even feel the loss."

"Because Robert Grudin doesn't deserve to have any part of him exist in this world when my family doesn't," Calvin said sternly, "he needs to be completelt wiped from this earth, from this life, his legacy left to the ashes of time. That's why. Tomorrow, I'm gonna come back in here and you're gonna give me her address, her schedule, the layout of her house, anything that could help me do this easily."

Ricky stared as he finished eating and Calvin took the plate from him. The two men locked eyes and Ricky slowly shook his head.

"Don't do this, man," he said softly.

"...I don't have a choice anymore," Calvin replied, before shackling Ricky's hands back up and exiting, the sound of the lock sliding into place making Ricky shiver. Ricky looked around the dimly lit shed and exhaled. Calvin had lost his family, and Ricky felt for him, but he'd also done something worse. Robert Grudin might've killed Calvin's family, and then not taken responsibility for it, but he didn't do it purposefully. Calvin had killed Grudin in cold blood, and was now seeking to further harm his remaining family, who only wanted justice for the murder he'd committed. Ricky was starting to understand just how fucked a predicament he was actually in.

Some nights he really wish he had stayed the course in college and become a teacher. Teachers rarely got tied to chairs and threatened with death.

"I love the future," Wyatt said, "ordering new limbs from a catalogue like you're getting furniture."

"It is kind of cool," Kelly agreed.

Kelly and Wyatt were in Kelly's bedroom, looking through the various catalogues the doctor had given her to choose a prosthetic limb from. Wyatt knew he should be doing anything else, be at work or maybe go home, but he figured the store would be fine without him for one afternoon and today Scarlett was doing her painting with Mona, so. Wyatt turned a page, then plunged his hand into the nearby bowl full of chips and shoveled them into his mouth. Kelly sipped from her soda can, then burped loudly.

"Maybe just get something with, like, a robotic hook at the end, go for the whole cyborg look," Wyatt said.

"It would be pretty cool to be able to scare children," Kelly said, making Wyatt laugh.

Kelly had specifically called Wyatt to ask him to come over and help her choose something, and she was more than thrilled he was here. There was something just so comforting about his presence and she found herself not feeling depressed about her current medical situation just because he was around. Besides, they shared a similar sense of humor, so her jokes always landed, and she liked that he laughed at them. Wyatt turned his catalogue towards her and tapped one. Kelly leaned forward and looked.

"How about that one?" he asked.

"That one's pretty slick," Kelly said, "am I gonna have to wear a shoe with this thing? Is that even possible?"

"That's...actually an excellent question," Wyatt said, "I hadn't considered that."

Truth be told, not that he knew it, but Wyatt had gotten lucky to be doing this because, at the moment, Rachel was dealing with something far more intense.

                                                                                                          ***

"Why is she here?" Rachel asked as she entered Calvin's kitchen. His parents were both gone for the afternoon, running various errands. Calvin turned from the sink, filling up his water pitcher and looked at Rachel, furrowing his brow in confusion before realizing what she was referencing.

"Oh, Angie? She insists on keeping watch on him, and why should I stop her? Keeps me from having to do it," Calvin said.

Rachel sat down at the kitchen table while Calvin got himself a beer from the fridge, then got Rachel one as well. He handed her her beer, then seated himself as well, unscrewing the top of his beer with his bare hands and taking a long drink. Rachel sipped hers conservatively. Best not to get buzzed in a situation such as this, she figured.

"I walked into the shed, wholly expecting you to be in there, only to come face to face with Wyatt's biggest fan," Rachel said, "did she just show up on her own?"

"Yeah, which is a little unnerving, actually," Calvin said, "kind of wish Wyatt hadn't shown her where I live."

"So she just rolls on up and decides to keep watch?" Rachel asked, and Calvin nodded; Rachel shivered, "creepy."

Calvin snickered and went to the fridge to get some dip before retrieving a bag of chips. He set both on the table and Rachel immediately dug in, Calvin watching with curiosity. Rachel just shrugged.

"I didn't have lunch," she said, "so what's the plan anyway?"

"...actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about," Calvin said, "...he told me who he's working for."

This information caught Rachels attention. So Calvin explained. He explained how he'd threatened Ricky with the gun, discussed why he'd taken Grudin out to begin with, and everything in between. Then he explained what Ricky told him. About Grudin's wife. And his decision on how  to handle it. How, if Grudin took his wife and daughter from him, then Calvin saw no reason to not do the same. And as she listened, absentmindedly eating chips and dip and occasionally sipping on her beer, the only thing Rachel could think was how right Wyatt had actually been. How dangerous Calvin actually was.

And how he had to be stopped.

                                                                                                   ***

"There was this girl in college," Kelly said, "she had a prosthetic limb as a result of a rollercoaster accident."

"Awesome," Wyatt said, making Kelly chuckle.

"Anyway," she continued, "she ran track, she was like the track star actually, and people were all supportive of her and impressed by her cause, like, here was someone who depended on their limbs moreso than someone usually would, specifically for a career, and she'd overcome the odds of losing one to still be the best track star at the school. When the doctor first told me that I'd need a prosthetic, she was the first thing I thought of. I survived a plane crash, but nobody but you guys thinks I'm impressive for it. And I'm just a weathergirl. My job does not depend on my legs. I guess it just made me feel like...like the absolute worst things could happen to you, and the world still wouldn't really notice or care."

Wyatt nodded, finished his soda and crushed the can, then tossed it into the nearby tiny trashcan.

"So, you're saying you're of lesser value just because your prosthetic doesn't impact your life to the degree of your career?" Wyatt asked, "I think you're the lucky one. She probably had so much pressure on her, man. Meanwhile you're able to just...go back to your life. Go back to work. You're kinda lucky, Kelly."

Kelly thought about it, and realized Wyatt had a point. He turned his attention back to the catalogue while she continued, lost in her thought. He wasn't wrong. She was going to be able to get a new leg, go back to work and have her life resume, relatively unscathed more or less by the situation at hand, or, at foot, rather. Wyatt's cell phone rang, but he had it on silent, so it just buzzed endlessly without either of them noticing. This was frustrating, because on the other end of the call, Rachel was desperately trying to contact him.

"Well," Kelly said, shrugging, "regardless, it's cool to know that it's not a big deal and that I won't be, like, gawked at."

"At least not for that," Wyatt said, smirking, making her chuckle.

                                                                                                            ***

Rachel re-entered the shed, pocketing her cell, annoyed. She shut the door behind her and turned to see Angie sitting backwards on a chair, looking at Ricky, who was sitting staring mindlessly at the wall. Rachel tapped Angie on the shoulder, and she looked up at her, smiling politely.

"Hey, if you wanna take a break that's fine, I'll stay a while," Rachel said, and Angie nodded. She stood up from the chair, stretched and yawned.

"I could use a restroom break," Angie said, "thanks!"

Angie turned and exited the shed. As soon as the door was shut, Rachel went and locked the door, then turned and walked back to Angie's chair and sat down on it, snapping her fingers at Ricky, getting his attention. Ricky turned his face towards her, and for the first time, Rachel could really take in his face. Thin, almost like a teenager, covered in freckles with red hair. Rachel hesitated, then cleared her throat and spoke.

"Here's the deal," Rachel said, "Calvin's going to kill you. He's also going to kill your boss and her kid. But I can stop that. It doesn't have to happen. I don't want it to happen. But I need you to help me, man. I can't do this alone."

"What's it matter at this point," Ricky said, sounding defeated.

"It matters because I have a much bigger story for you than a corrupt politicians murder. You're an investigator, right? You like uncovering stories? Well how's this one for you. The guy they claimed killed Grudin, Oliver Brighton? He was part of an enormous child trafficking ring, and the plane crash? It only happened because his boss happened to be on the plane. That's why Calvin crashed it. As someone who was abused by an older man, I'd like to find the head honcho of this whole thing and bring him down. So work with me, and we both get out of this unscathed, or you can die in this shed. Your choice."

Ricky looked at her, his eyes wide. He hadn't expected there to be such a backstory to the whole thing.

"...I'm listening," Ricky said.

"Wyatt hates Calvin. For many reasons, but he hates him pretty good. Wyatt wouldn't disagree with me in that he needs to be stopped. He's already done so much damage, we can't allow him to make good on his new threat. So I need you to tell me everything you know about this woman, Leslie Grudin, and her child."

"I don't know much, to be honest," Ricky replied, shrugging, "I mean, she's furious about her husbands death, and she's got this developmentally disabled daughter, and-"

"Wait, what?" Rachel asked, interrupting him. That got her attention.

                                                                                                              ***

"I should get going," Wyatt said, standing up and pulling his jacket on. He tossed the catalogue back towards Kelly, who looked at the ones he'd circled before looking back up at him. He smiled at her and added, "don't worry, I'll come by again tomorrow, we can keep looking."

Kelly looked down at her hands on the bed and wanted to say something, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead she just smiled weakly and nodded. Wyatt pocketed his cell phone from the bed and started towards the door, where he stopped, hand on the knob and turned back to Kelly.

"I don't think anyone's said it yet but...I'm really glad you're here, man," Wyatt said, "I...I was so scared. I thought, when you called me from the plane, that that might be the last time I ever heard your voice, and I...I didn't want it to be. You're my friend. I didn't want to lose you."

Kelly had fantasized about this moment a bit. Fantasized about a situation where Wyatt, emotionally, explains how much he cares about her, and then she'd get up and she'd kiss him and he'd kiss her back and that would be that. But she knew how ridiculous that was. He was married. He had a family. What could she really offer him, anyway? Scarlett came with money. A business. A large house. He loved her deeply, and she knew that. But the fantasy was nice, regardless. So instead she swallowed her pride, and she smiled.

"Thanks," she said, "I was terrified. I wasn't ready to go."

Wyatt released the doorknob from his hand and walked back to the bed, standing in front of her. Kelly's breath caught in her chest, as he reached out and touched her face softly. She shut her eyes and enjoyed the sensation. Wyatt then leaned in and hugged her tightly, and she happily hugged him back. After the hug, he promised he'd come back tomorrow, and then he left the room. The moment he was out of the house - she could hear the front door close - she laid down on the bed and, pressing her face into the pillow, cried. Wyatt, however, once in his car, pulled his phone from his pocket and noticed all the texts and missed call from Rachel. He quickly dialed her up.

"Hey, it's me, what's going on?" he asked, starting his car. He pulled out of the driveway and onto the street, then stopped dead, "...he WHAT?"

                                                                                                            ***

Rachel opened the door to her apartment and allowed Wyatt inside.

Sun Rai was at her parents so it was just the two of them. Wyatt stepped into the apartment, unable to form words. Rachel shut the door behind him as he entered, and finally, Wyatt threw his arms in the arm and laughed loudly.

"I don't even know what to say," Wyatt said, "I'm not surprised. I know I should be, but I'm not, not at this point. How can I be? After the other things he's done, coaxed others into doing? The manipulative piece of shit. So...so what's your plan then?"

"We use Ricky to our advantage," Rachel said, nervously chewing her thumbnail as she leaned against the door while Wyatt paced; she continued, "we strike a deal with him to find out who's running the trafficking ring, and we...we take them down."

"And he's agreed to this?"

"He has, if only because he doesn't want to die in a shed," Rachel said.

"And what about Calvin?" Wyatt asked, and Rachel looked at the ground. Wyatt knew what this meant. It was the thing they'd all been avoiding. The thing Celia had mentioned at the hospital. The thing Rachel had mentioned in Wyatt's bathroom the day of the plane crash. The one nuclear option none of them wanted to even entertain. Wyatt sat on the coffee table and buried his face in his hands.

"We can't," he whispered, "we...we can't."

"There's something else," Rachel said, "um...this woman, Grudin's wife, she has a daughter."

Wyatt looked up at Rachel, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"...a developmentally disabled daughter," Rachel concluded, and that broke him. Wyatt started crying. Rachel came to the table and sat down beside him, rubbing his back. She knew that would get him. Because of Mona, and her ASD, she knew that Wyatt would find a familiarity with Grudin's child. Wyatt must've cried for a solid five minutes before catching his breath and looking around the apartment.

"How then?" he asked, "how do we kill Calvin?"

"I don't know," Rachel said, her voice shaky, on the verge of tears herself, "...I don't...know. I just...I don't think it's right for us to sit here and let him do it all over again. I know Leslie wants justice for her husband, but...but her child shouldn't be in harms way because of that. Calvin is the villain in this situation. He's my friend, but...but he's gotta be stopped. He can't keep being allowed to do these things without any ramifications for his actions. I wasn't happy with Grudin's death, but it was a personal vendetta against a grown man who ruined his life. Killed his family. I understood it. I wasn't happy with the plane crash, but he was killing a producer of illicit pornography, an abuser of children, and Kelly survived so I figured, hey, what's the harm? I understood it. But this? A completely innocent, mentally disabled little girl who just happens to be in the line of fire? No. There's no justifying that."

Wyatt nodded. That being said, despite agreeing with her, he felt like he couldn't do it. How could he? How could he willingly take another life, even if for the greater good, the safety of a child? How could he possibly stomach it, live with himself knowing he killed someone? Grudin was already a sketchy enough grey area, but to outright kill someone he'd called a friend? He couldn't do it. He needed a third party, a disconnected yet willing companion who would do the deed for him. He needed someone with no real remorse for their actions. He needed someone who was happy to help him do something. That's when it hit him.

He needed Angie.

Ricky could smell coffee. He wasn't really awake, but he could smell coffee. Had he made coffee? Had someone made coffee for him? His eyes slowly adjusted as he squinted at  the light coming into  the room from a tiny window and he groaned. His head...god his head hurt. Had he been out drinking? Had he hit his head on something? None of this made sense. The last thing he could remember was...and then he saw them. Wyatt and a woman standing in front of him, each sipping from a coffee mug.

"He's awake," Wyatt called over his shoulder.

"Good morning!" Angie replied happily, "do you want coffee?"

Ricky growled and started to shake in his chair, tied firmly and tightly to it.

"Let me fucking go this instant you goddamned lunatics! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Angie pulled back and shook her head.

"He doesn't get coffee," she said, Wyatt nodding in agreement.

                                                                                                       ***

"Well," Dr. Warner said, "I really don't want to tell you this, but we have a problem."

Since the crash, once a week, Kelly had been going back to her doctor because her left leg wasn't healing correctly, and today, she was especially worried. See, Dr. Warner had called her the night before and asked her if she could come in a bit earlier than usual, and he'd never done this before, so it concerned her. Now, sitting in his office in her hospital onesie, she knew that bad feeling in her gut was for the right reasons.

"What kind of problem?" Kelly asked, her voice meek.

"Well," Dr. Warner said, "looking over your x-rays, I mean, this thing is bad. The muscle is dead, and the bones aren't setting right. Your must've landed on it when you fell from the sky. Now, consider yourself lucky. I know this sucks, but if this is the only negative outcome of surviving a plane crash, I think you're still coming out ahead."

Kelly shifted uncomfortably and nodded, swallowing anxiously.

"So...so what do we do?" she asked.

She didn't like the answer he gave her. Afterwards, when she was going through a nearby drive through to get lunch, all she could think about was how unfair life was. Sure, she'd survived a plane crash, but now she was losing something else. It seemed like life was always out to take something away from her the moment she started to feel good again, and in those times of need, she turned to comfort food. Sitting in the parking lot a few minutes later, eating her burger, all she could think about was how she needed more than comfort food. She needed comfort friends. Kelly pulled out her cell phone and dialed a number. It rang a few times, and then finally an answer.

"Hello?" Rachel asked.

"What are you doing?" Kelly asked.

"I'm actually on my way to a friends, are you okay?" Rachel asked.

"Can I come?" Kelly asked, and Rachel hesitated, then said okay, and gave her directions to Calvin's.

                                                                                                            ***

Wyatt entered the kitchen to find Calvin looking through the fridge. Calvin handed Wyatt a slew of items - lunch meat, cheese, condiments - before shutting the door and turning to the bread box, retrieving a loaf. Wyatt set all the stuff down on the counter near the bread and then refilled his coffee mug. Calvin started to fix a sandwich while Wyatt sipped from his mug, his back against the counter.

"Are you making him lunch?" Wyatt asked.

"I have to do something, we can't just starve him," Calvin said.

"It's a good thing your folks went out for the day," Wyatt said, "otherwise they might be curious why you have so many people over."

"If anything they'd be thrilled. Happy to see me being social," Calvin said, "though, truth be told, you aren't exactly the people I want to be social with."

"That's fair," Wyatt said.

The two men stood there in the kitchen, each opting not to speak instead. Calvin's folks had come home in the early afternoon, but then both had their own plans for the day, so the gang was able to continue about their business unquestioned. Wyatt drank from his mug and watched Calvin make the sandwich, and thought about how Calvin used to be a dad. Probably made school lunches, same as he did on the daily. In truth, Calvin probably weirdly enjoyed making lunch for someone. The front door opened unexpectedly and that caught Wyatt and Calvin's attention. They both stiffened up and Calvin grabbed a large knife from the block off the counter, only to see Rachel and Kelly enter.

"Oh," Calvin said, lowering the knife, "it's just you."

"Jesus, who were you expecting?" Rachel asked, "what's going on here that's got you guys on edge?"

Calvin and Wyatt exchanged a look, and Calvin plated the sandwich, then motioned with his head for Rachel to follow him to the shed. Wyatt sat down at the table and continued drinking, as Kelly poured herself a cup and sat down across from him. Once the sliding glass door shut, Kelly looked up at Wyatt, who was looking down at the newspaper, and she blushed. Wyatt finally looked up from the newspaper and smiled at her, and she blushed harder.

"I saw the doctor today," Kelly said.

"Yeah? How'd that go?" Wyatt asked.

"Not good," Kelly said, "I was going to talk to Rachel about it, but it seemed like she was needed, so. Anyway it's bad. They're gonna give me a fake leg."

Wyatt put his mug down and folded his arms on the table, squinting at her, confused.

"What?"

"My leg is dead," Kelly said, "it isn't gong to get better, so they're going to schedule me in for amputation and an artificial replacement. I guess, in a way, that'll be cool. Be part cyborg. I don't know, I'm trying to see the upside to losing a limb but it doesn't feel genuine."

"I think that's pretty rad," Wyatt replied, "just don't use your newfound robot powers for evil, okay?"

Kelly laughed and nodded. She'd meant to talk to Rachel, but in all honesty, Wyatt was the better choice. He always managed to make her feel better. Rachel, meanwhile, had entered the shed with Calvin, and was watching him kneel in front of Ricky to hand feed him the sandwich. Rachel sat on the workshop table and shook her head. Of all the things to be involved in, now they had entered the kidnapping phase. Calvin waited for Ricky to finish chewing, before giving him a drink from a water bottle.

"This is ridiculous," Rachel muttered.

"See, she gets it," Ricky said, "she sees how insane this is."

"What other choice did we have? He had Wyatt backed into a corner, he was giving up information," Calvin said, "besides, for what it's worth, Wyatt wasn't the one who did this. That honor goes to that nutjob girl he brought with him. I'd say that to her face, but frankly I'm kinda scared of her."

"She is offputting isn't she?" Ricky asked.

"Hey, you're not part of this conversation," Rachel said, glaring at him.

"I AM the conversation!" Ricky shouted, as Calvin stood up and put the bandana back around his mouth. Rachel laughed as Calvin set the remainder of the lunch on the table beside her and wiped his hands on his pants. He then walked to a small box and pulled it down from the shelf, unlocking it. Rachel picked up the remainder of the sandwich and started eating it, while Ricky protested with muffled yells.

"Right after the crash," Calvin said, "I came here, and I sat down and I took this box down and opened it. I couldn't stop thinking about all the people I'd hurt, unintentionally or otherwise. I killed Grudin because he killed my wife and daughter, but his kill count is two. Mine far exceeds that now. That makes me sick. I thought maybe Wyatt was right about me the whole time, and maybe I am the problem, so I took this out," he said, retrieving from the box a small pistol, continuing, "and I was ready to put an end to it all. Then I was called and told that Kelly survived, and that...that made me feel like less of a monster. But now, maybe we need this for something else."

"We can't just keep killing people, Calvin," Rachel said, talking while eating, "leaving a body trail is how serial killers get caught."

"I'm not a serial killer. I'm a domestic terrorist at this point," Calvin said.

"No argument here," Rachel mumbled.

"But maybe I can make up for it, by removing the problem," Calvin said, aiming the gun at Ricky, who's eyes widened in fear.

"Calvin," Rachel said, hopping off the table and grabbing his arms, "hey, this isn't...no. What happens when someone comes looking for him? You gonna take them out too? There's always gonna be another person. It doesn't end until we are caught, and you know how we get caught quicker? By killing people."

Rachel slowly lowered Calvin's arm, and Calvin sighed, sitting on a nearby stool. Rachel took the gun from him and set it on the table as Calvin buried his face in his hands and started to cry. Rachel stood there, rubbing his back, reassuring him. He'd helped get her medication, the least she could do was bring him some sense of comfort. After a few minutes, Calvin wiped his face on his sleeve and shook his head.

"Sometimes," Calvin said, "I wonder if I died at some point, and this shed is actually hell. All these horrible things that have happened in it or come out of it. Maybe this is my punishment. But...you wouldn't be in hell, so I guess that kind of defeats that theory."

"I think me being in hell depends on who you ask," Rachel said, "I am queer, after all."

Calvin chuckled a little and that made Rachel feel a bit better.

"Still," Calvin said, "it feels like I'm being eternally punished for something I'm not even sure I did. My family was taken from me and this is my afterlife? Sickening. You'd think things get easier but...I think, Rachel, some people aren't meant to have it easy and some people aren't mean to be here that long. I just want to be with them, I miss them so much. My daughter deserved a chance at life, and that fucker Grudin took it all away from her, ruining so many people in the process while he continued to get to campaign and work in politics. That's not the kind of man I want representing the people when he's the one hurting the people."

"I don't think anybody is gonna argue with you about Grudin," Rachel said, "but right now let's focus on the problem at hand, and that's what to do with him."

Rachel and Calvin both glanced back towards Ricky, who now had a rather somber look on his face. He was beginning to understand the reality of the situation.

                                                                                                          ***

After all was said and done, Wyatt took Angie home, Rachel and Kelly went home in their respective vehicles, and Calvin's parents eventually returned home that night. Sitting at the dinner table with them, pretending everything was fine and normal, that he didn't in fact have a hostage just outside in the shed, was eating away at him. But he ignored it. He laughed at his dad jokes and he complimented his moms cooking. He thought about, briefly, calling his sister but he didn't know what to say even if he did. Would she even answer? She was prone to not responding, after all. Calvin helped clear the table, helped put away leftovers, and even did all the dishes. After his folks watched TV in the living room for a bit, they retired to the bedroom, and that left Calvin all alone.

He sat in the living room, flipping through television channels, unable to focus on anything for more than scant seconds. He was still drinking coffee, which he knew he shouldn't be considering how late it was getting and how badly he'd sleep if he didn't stop, and his thoughts turned back to Grudin. Back to the man in the shed. Calvin finally stood up, finished his coffee and headed back to the shed. He unlocked the door, tugged it open and then flipped on the light. Ricky was still awake, still staring at the door. Calvin dragged a stool across the floor and set it in front of Ricky before taking his seat on it. He then reached forward and pulled the bandana off his mouth.

"...something doesn't add up," Calvin said, "why would they send an investigator out to gather facts about the crash? That isn't how airlines work. All their investigations are done internally. I didn't say anything earlier cause I didn't want to worry the others, but explain that to me."

"Well aren't you a genius," Ricky sneered, "yeah, you're not wrong. It is unusual isn't it? That's exactly what I said."

"Which then begs the question, who are you actually here for?" Calvin asked, and Ricky smiled weakly.

"You kill a man and you think his family won't be curious?" Ricky asked, causing Calvin's blood to run cold; Ricky cleared his throat and shook his head, his hair matted with sweat as he added, "his wife knows something ain't right about it. I mean, Brighton blows up a man and then doesn't stick around to take credit? Something about that whole situation didn't work."

"No, it didn't."

"Couple that with the fact that Brighton offed himself before Grudin's demise, that was suspicious as hell too," Ricky said, "so what you're looking at here, from an intelligent persons perspective, is a conspiracy of sorts. And she saw right through to that. She knew it was bullshit. The more she dug, the more she questioned, the more she realized something was wrong."

Calvin chewed his lip, and was afraid to ask, when he already knew the answer.

"It's his wife, isn't it?" he asked, and Ricky smirked.

"Ding ding ding! We have a winner!" Ricky said loudly, "you want the prize behind door number 1 or number 3?"

"Then I guess," Calvin said, scooting off his seat and standing up, pulling the pistol from the table and looking at it, "I'll have to take what he took. I didn't get a wife or daughter, neither should he. I guess, if what I have to do is finish what I started, then I guess that's what I'll do, and if everyone sees me as a monster, then that's what I'll be."

Ricky had to admit, that hadn't been the response he was expecting.

"Wh...what?" Ricky asked, as Calvin approached the shed door, pulled it open and flicked out the light.

"Goodnight," Calvin said, "Sleep good."

"Wait wait wait, dude, wait!" Ricky shouted, "Wait!"

Calvin shut the door.