"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.

Calvin had the house to himself.

His folks were out for the evening, and thusly, he could do anything he wanted. He could anyway, he was a grown man after all, but still, living at home even in his late 30s, made him feel eternally like a child. First he watched some TV down in the living room, then he made a nice dinner for himself and ate at the table in the kitchen, basking in the uninterrupted silence he so rarely got these days. After this, he took a shower, and then he headed out to the shed in the backyard to work on fixing a small motor. Lately, he'd found, his hobbies were his only saving grace from the madness that was consuming his life, and he was ever so grateful for them. Sitting on the stool, soldering metal together, he heard a bang on the door and was surprised. His parents were gone, and it was - he checked his watch - 9pm at night, who could possibly be coming to visit? It might be Rachel, he figured, she liked to drop in often, but still, it seemed a bit too late for anyone to be coming over. Calvin groaned, got off the stool and then answered the door, surprised to see a disheveled Wyatt and a giddy looking Angie standing outside.

"...what the hell are you two doing here at this time?" Calvin asked.

"We need to hide a body," Wyatt said, and Calvin had to admit, that hadn't been what he was expecting to hear.

                                                                                            4 HOURS EARLIER

"There hasn't been any kind of innovation in the sandwich industry in years," Rachel said as she bit into her lunch and chewed, continuing while she did, "like, a sandwich is maybe one of the worlds oldest foods, and yet what was the last new sandwich? A sub?"

"I know that ciabatta bread wasn't invented until 1982, that's always been weird to me," Wyatt said, "that's way too late to be inventing new types of bread. But you're not wrong. The candy industry isn't stagnant. We're constantly getting new variations of candy bars. Maybe not new candy bars proper, but variations at the very least. So what's holding the sandwich industry up in their attempts to do anything fresh?"

Rachel swallowed, picked up her cup and took a long sip from her straw. She and Wyatt had met for lunch today simply because they hadn't seen one another in a bit, and Wyatt wanted to check in on her now that she was on proper medication. For what he could see, she was doing infinitely better. She seemed far less nervous and skittish. They were sitting in a little deli downtown, near Rachel's workplace, and each eating a sandwich.

"Things have seemed rather calm lately," Rachel said, "all things considered."

"They have, and frankly, I appreciate it," Wyatt replied, "like...I'm so sick of constantly having to scramble to fix something, it's nice to have times where absolutely nothing happens. Reminds me of my life before everything."

Rachel nodded in agreement.

"Has he come back yet?" she asked, and Wyatt shook his head.

"Surprisingly no," he said, "I was wholly expecting him to, he said he would. But so far he hasn't shown his face again, and honestly, that's for the better. Last thing I wanna deal with right now is a private investigator for an airline. I have enough on my plate as it is. But if he does, don't worry, you'll be the first to know. Well, ya know, outside me, cause I'll be the one dealing with it."

Rachel sighed, finished her sandwich and looked at her phone. It was about time for her to head back to work, and frankly, lately, she hadn't been annoyed by it. Work had been the only thing that was keeping her sane. Plus, she got to work with Sun Rai, and that was nice. To spend time with your partner in a non partner setting, just as coworkers, that was oddly comforting. Work was the only bit of normality she felt she had anymore. She wiped her hands on her jeans and exhaled.

"Well," she said, "hopefully he just recognizes there's nothing here for him to find, and he leaves town. Cause unless someone coughs something up, and nobody will, he won't have any information to report back with. I highly doubt Kelly's gonna tell him squat, especially since she didn't know about it when it happened."

"Here's to hopin'," Wyatt said, raising his cup to her. Rachel stood up, pulled her jacket back on, readjusted her apron and hugged Wyatt as he sat in his chair. She then exited the deli, leaving Wyatt alone with his food and his thoughts. As he continued eating, he thought about his children, his place of work, his relationship with his wife, and so much more. All he wanted was for things to go back to normal. Maybe he could do it. Maybe he could stomach the guilt of killing another person. Calvin had to be taken out for the greater good. But...but no. He just wasn't that kind of person. He could never pull the trigger. He took another bite and chewed, completely unawares that in the corner booth across the restaurant, Angie was watching him.

                                                                                                         ***

Calvin visited the graveyard that afternoon, bringing the monthly bouquets for his wife and daughter. He set them down on their respective headstones, then seated himself between them, listening to the birds sing and the soft low hum of the groundskeepers landscaping tools somewhere in the near distance. How ironic, he thought, the most peaceful place is the place you don't even get to experience the peacefulness of. He sighed and put his hand on his wifes stone.

"It's all fucked up," he said, "I'm all fucked up. You would hate the man I've become, and yet...I became this man because of losing you. The irony is not lost on me, I assure you. I want things to go back to how they were, but...but I'm not sure they ever can. I think we're too far gone at this point."

An older couple walked by, also holding flowers, clearly here to visit someone. Calvin watched as they went over the small hill and disappeared from sight before turning his vision towards his daughters headstone. He felt his eyes swell up with tears, and he didn't even try to not cry.

"At this point," he whispered, "all I want is to be with you both. I don't care about anything anymore. I've done such monstrous things in the name of misguided morality, and everyone is right, Wyatt is right...I'm a bad person. Now I just wanna rest. Now I just wanna be with you."

He exhaled and wiped his face clean with his arm, trying to regain what little composure he had left. What, really, did he have to stick around for? Everything was over. Sure, there was an investigator in town for the airline, but that wouldn't last. Otherwise, Brighton was gone, Grudin was dealt with and even Wattson was finished. Kelly had survived the entire ordeal, perhaps bouncing back even stronger than she'd been before, and so really, what good did it do anyone to have him stick around? His folks would be having a night out tonight, perhaps he would take advantage of it. Relax. Do some hobby work. Then do what everyone seemed to want him to do, and put an end to it all.

After all, what he really wanted was to be with his family again. Why deny himself that joy.

                                                                                                             ***

"Why can't I come to your moms group?" Wyatt asked, and Scarlett scoffed as she stood in front of her vanity mirror, applying eye makeup.

"Because you're not a mom?" she said, "pop out two kids and then come talk to me about membership."

"Wow, there's membership? This group really is classy," Wyatt said, shifting his weight on the end of the bed as he watched her do her makeup. He couldn't help but smile at the sight. Wyatt had always loved watching his wife apply makeup, he always found her at her most beautiful when she did the most seemingly mundane tasks. He sighed and let his hands hang down between his knees, saying quietly, "I don't wanna fight anymore."

"Me either," Scarlett said, turning to face him on her little stool, "I'm sick of arguing. We need to spend some time together. Get away for a bit or something. Maybe leave the kids with my parents and just...just go somewhere, you know?"

"That sounds like a good idea," Wyatt said. After she finished, she gathered Mona and their son and headed out with her child bag in hand, leaving Wyatt alone for the night. Wyatt stood in the empty foyer of the house, hands in his pockets, unsure what to do with himself. He turned and looked around at his surroundings, chewing on his lip. He could call Kelly, see if she wanted to go do something, or just hang out. Was that weird though? Going to hang out with another woman while your wife was away? She was just a friend though, so probably not. Suddenly a knock at the door roused him from his thoughts, and he quickly answered, surprised to find Ricky on the porch. Ricky removed his hat in a polite manner, grinning.

"Did you wait until my wife left to knock?" Wyatt asked, "that's a little creepy."

"Well, figure you wouldn't want any family around for this," Ricky said, as he tried to make his way into the house, but Wyatt continued to block the front door. Ricky sighed and, reaching into his coat, pulled out a paper, unfolding it and handing it to Wyatt. Wyatt read it, his eyes widening, before looking at Ricky, who just grinned. Wyatt then stepped aside, and allowed him to enter.

"Where did you get this? Who even wrote it?" Wyatt asked, and Ricky shrugged.

"No idea, it was just left on the doorstep of my motel room," Ricky said, "And while I don't claim it to mean anything concrete, I would be a pretty bad investigator if I didn't at least look into it."

"This says nothing, honestly, this could've just been written by someone wanting to cause me grief," Wyatt said, shaking the paper, "there's literally nothing in here that could be construed as any kind of proof of guilt. It's the most vague thing I've ever read, honestly."

"If it's so meaningless why are you so vehemently defending your innocence?" Ricky asked, "just asking."

Wyatt opened his mouth to say something else, then just as quickly shut it. He didn't want to bury himself in a deeper hole. Ricky smiled and continued looking at the photos in the foyer, admiring Wyatt's family. Wyatt wanted to scream. Who would've done this? Who would've tried to pin everything on him? Calvin? No, even he wouldn't stoop this low, would he?

"So," Ricky said, holding a school portrait of Mona, "anything you want to admit to?"

Wyatt sighed, knowing he had no choice. He'd been put in a corner, and he knew it was time to come clean. He just hoped everyone would understand.

                                                                                                        ***

Rachel and Sun Rai had ordered in food that night, as neither didn't want to cook after working all day, and were planning for the next few days while they lounged on the couch, eating and watching TV on mute. Sun was debating whether or not to go see her father, because he'd be in the hospital for a week or so, and she was worried that if she didn't see him beforehand, she wouldn't be able to stomach going while he was there, despite having been a nurse. Rachel slurped some noodles off her chopsticks and shrugged.

"Whatever you decide you know I'll support," she said, "but forgive me if I don't really know how to respond. When you don't really have parents, it kind of makes giving advice to those who do a bit harder."

"That's fair," Sun Rai said, stabbing some shrimp with a fork, adding, "you know, you could come with me. They'd love you. They aren't, like, super supportive exactly, but once they got to know you, they'd love you. My mom already kind of likes you as it is. You're growing on them. Plus I could use the support."

"I could handle that," Rachel said, smiling, putting a hand on Sun Rai's thigh.

They continued eating for a bit, watching some commercials, until Rachel set her things down on the coffee table and exhaled, leaning back into the couch and running her hands through her long hair.

"I've actually been thinking about going to see my own parents," she said, "I just...even if I have to twist their arms, I'd like them to try and get along with me. I don't like not having family. It bums me out severely. I was thinking maybe we could schedule a dinner that we could go to together, or maybe go to their house cause my mom loves to cook. Maybe if we just...ya know...get in there, let them see me, us, for who we are, then-"

"Don't put all your eggs in one basket," Sun Rai said, "I just...I don't want you to be let down."

Rachel knew the likelihood of her parents accepting her were slim to none, but she figured she still had to try, if for no other reason than to at least be able to say she was the one who tried. Rachel slumped back down into the couch and crossed her arms, leaning into Sun Rai, who stroked her hair. Maybe Sun Rai was right, she should tone down her hopes. But lately, it felt like hope was all she had left.

                                                                                                              ***

"Thank you," Ricky said, as Wyatt handed him a beer from the fridge. Wyatt pulled his own out and they both popped the lids before taking a drink. Wyatt leaned against the counter and sighed, shaking his head. Where to even begin? Where to start?

"Probably best to start at the beginning, I guess," he said, "though at this point it's hard to put my finger on what exactly was the beginning. There's so much it all just blends together now."

"That's fine, just take your time, I'm in no rush," Ricky said, lifting his beer to his lips.

Wyatt didn't know what to say. Robert Grudin felt like the right starting point, but for that, he'd need to contextualize the necessity that brought about his death, meaning starting with Calvin and his family being killed by Grudin's carelessness. God, so much set up. He felt like he was trying to recite a novel. Wyatt took a long drink and then wiped his mouth on his shirt sleeve.

"I guess," Wyatt started, "...I guess it started with our high school reunion. Our friend, Calvin, he was there in body only, not in spirit. He'd already lost everything that mattered to him. Robert Grudin saw to that. Killing his family in a headon collision brought on by driving under the influence and then not taking responsibility for the fact. Everything is Calvin's fault. I mean, that's not fair, we all had a hand in it, but...but it all stemmed from him. His rage and his...his thirst for justice. Never seemed to occur to Calvin that maybe justice just isn't something we all get, or that by hurting others he was lowering himself to their level. He seems to have this superiority complex about him, that everything he does is justified."

"Sounds like you've put a lot of thought into this," Ricky said, standing up and pacing as he drank, "sounds like, maybe, Calvin's gotten your goat more than you'd like him to."

"You have no idea. And you have no idea the lengths he'd go to to secure what he thinks are moral accomplishments. He has a strong idea of what is right and wrong but no objective way of knowing the difference, it seems. Frankly, I'm sick of dealing with his bullshit."

"Then why do you?"

"Because if I don't, who knows what else he'll do. He's already caused so much damage," Wyatt said, and this caught Ricky's interest. Ricky set his beer down on the table and pulled out his pad and pen, preparing to take a statement.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked, "what has he done?"

This was what Wyatt had been waiting to do. Turn everything on Calvin over onto someone who could potentially hold him responsible for his actions. Now that he found himself at that precipice, however, could he go through with it? It would tear the whole thing wide open. It would potentially ruin Rachel's life as well. He didn't want that, especially after she'd already been dealing with her delusions as of late, the last thing she needed was some kind of legal trouble. And Celia...a single mom, taken from her child simply because of her somewhat distant involvement in the entire ordeal? Calvin had to be stopped, but at what cost to the others? Wyatt took a long drink and then shook his head.

"I'm not entirely sure I know the full extent of his actions, to be honest," Wyatt said.

"You can't just back down," Ricky said, approaching Wyatt, backing him up against the countertop, "if you know something, anything, that could hold him accountable for Grudin's death, or perhaps the airline crash, you could be saving more people than you think you are. I know you think you're doing the right thing, protecting those involved with you, but think of who he might hurt next."

"I do," Wyatt said sternly, "I think of it every goddamn day. Of what he might do to the next person he perceives as 'deserving it', even if it means hurting innocents. But I just..."

Wyatt trailed off, looking at the floor. He felt Ricky grab his shirt and hold him tightly against the counter, glaring at him. Wyatt panicked. He didn't know why he'd even agreed to this. He could've turned Ricky away, said nothing about anything. All he had was a vague, unsigned letter that really held no water whatsoever. Ricky gritted his teeth and stared into Wyatt's eyes.

"You don't even know what you're dealing with," Ricky hissed, "the people you've pissed off. If you want any shot of normalcy for the rest of your life, now is the time, because-"

But Ricky didn't get to finish his sentence, as he dropped like a rock to the floor. Standing behind him, holding a baseball bat, was Angie. Wyatts eyes ran from the investigator up to Angie, and his mind was at a loss for words. How did she even know he was here? How did she know to...but that's when it hit him.

"You sent it," he whispered, "you gave him that note."

"I've been following you for days since then, waiting for him to make his move," Angie said, handing Wyatt the bat, the very bat he'd once used in his high school baseball career; she stammered, adding, "I...I didn't...I didn't know what else to do. I knew we had to do something. I had to do something, to help you, I mean. He was gonna take you down, for things you didn't even do, that isn't right."

Wyatt kneeled down on the kitchen floor and picked up Ricky's wrist, feeling his pulse. He was alive. Wyatt then reached up and wiped his face, not realizing he had a smearing of blood on his hand. Wyatt then looked back up to Angie, and surprisingly, he smiled. She had, in fact, helped, even if it'd been in a way he hadn't wanted. He stood up, finished his beer, then turned back to Angie.

"We need to get him out of here," Wyatt said.

"Where can we take him?" Angie asked.

"I know a place," Wyatt replied.

Sitting on the stool, soldering metal together, Calvin heard a bang on the door of his shed and was surprised. His parents were gone, and it was - he checked his watch - 9pm at night, who could possibly be coming to visit? It might be Rachel, he figured, she liked to drop in often, but still, it seemed a bit too late for anyone to be coming over. Calvin groaned, got off the stool and then answered the door, surprised to see a disheveled Wyatt and a giddy looking Angie standing outside.

"...what the hell are you two doing here at this time?" Calvin asked.

"We need to hide a body," Wyatt said, and Calvin had to admit, that hadn't been what he was expecting to hear.

"I really appreciate this," Kelly said, sitting in the passenger seat as Wyatt drove; she continued, "my parents work, and Rachel works, but you're like your own boss so you have the ability to help out whenever you want. I really do appreciate it. I needed to get some of these things done."

Wyatt nodded, listening but not listening. His mind was elsewhere, specifically with Scarlett. He rubbed his eyes as they came to a red light.

"...how are you?" Kelly asked, "I mean, like, how is everything? All things considered."

Wyatt glanced at her. How was everything? He smiled weakly and nodded.

"Yeah," he said, "I'm fine. Everything's fine."

Kelly had survived a plane crash. She didn't need to worry about anything else right now.

                                                                                                         ***

Kelly Schuester had been in band in Freshman year, playing the saxophone, and was surprisingly adept at it. And, for a lot of sporting events, the band was expected to be present, providing background music, including baseball. Kelly, decked out in her full band uniform, saxophone case slung across her chest and over her shoulder, was sitting uncomfortably on one of the bottom bleachers as the football team practiced nearby. She pulled open the plastic wrap covering her sandwich and bit into it as someone sat down on the bench beside her, glancing up to recognize a boy from the baseball team and a girl she knew from art class sitting together, he in his baseball uniform and her in her regular clothes, sharing a soda.

"Football is the one sport I don't respect," Amelia said as she took a long sip.

"And why is that?" Wyatt asked.

"Because football is all about brute force. Baseball requires math, logics. Tennis requires true agility, geometry. But football...it's just...people running into eachother. I know it's more complicated than that, but at a base level that's what it is."

"Well, I'm glad you like baseball at least," Wyatt said, "otherwise I'd feel pretty stupid wearing this."

Amelia and Wyatt laughed and Kelly felt embarrassed. She was somewhat jealous. She'd never had a boyfriend, or anything of the sort, and all the boys she did have crushes on, none of them ever liked her back, and the boys who did find an interest in her were...well....less than ideal in regards to their actions towards her. She continued eating, listening to them talk.

"What are you doing after school?" Amelia asked, "Cause I found a cemetary I want to take photos of."

"That sounds cool," Wyatt replied, "we could totally do that. So long as we won't piss off the dead."

"What are they gonna do, haunt us?" Amelia asked, the both of them laughing again.

Kelly did her best to ignore the sinking feeling in her gut, focusing instead on the sandwich in her hands, but it wasn't enough. She'd never have a relationship in the entirety of high school, and rarely outside of high school either, even after graduation. Truth be told, Kelly Schuester, despite her abilities and her genune kindness and her big heartedness, had never once been loved by someone the way she wanted, and she secretly craved it so bad. But, until then...Tuna Salad would have to do, she guessed.

                                                                                                        ***

"Why do you still have braces? You're in your thirties," Wyatt said.

"Because I have Temporomandibular joint dysfunction," Kelly said, as Wyatt raised his eyebrows and she smirked before adding, "jaw pain. I had my wisdom teeth taken out sometime last year, and since then I've had these to help reduce the jaw pain. It eases pressure and tension. I grit my teeth a lot, so."

Wyatt and Kelly were sitting in a laundromat, waiting for Kelly's drycleaning to be gotten.

"I don't think I ever had braces," Wyatt said, crossing his legs, "I think I had perfect teeth."

"Well, we can't all be handsome adonises," Kelly replied, making Wyatt laugh as she blushed and continued, "actually, I like them. They kind of set me apart. I got so used to being different when in school that now being different is just kind of my entire personality. Not in an obnoxious way, but more in a...like a...I'm interesting because of it kind of way, if that makes sense? If I wasn't different, I don't think I'd be nearly as interesting in general."

Wyatt nodded, listening. He cleared his throat and looked down at his hands in his lap, picking at his nails.

"Yeah, yeah I get that," Wyatt said, "like, people use your differences against you, so you empower yourself by being proud of them, right? That is kind of admirable, honestly."

Kelly nodded, but didn't respond. After a few more minutes her dry cleaning was finished, so they took it to the car, got back in and began to drive to the grocery store for her next errand. Wyatt always enjoyed grocery shopping, he found it oddly...relaxing. Course, he usually did it alone, but hey, there was fun to be had with other people sometimes. He remembered when he and Scarlett got their first apartment, before they had the house, and they used to go grocery shopping together all the time, even when they didn't need anything, just for something fun and cheap to do together. Walking down the aisles, pushing the cart as Kelly hobbled alongside him, Wyatt couldn't help but feel like that again now.

"Do you ever miss being in high school?" Wyatt asked, "people always say it's the best time of your life, but how sad is that? The peak of your entire existence is hormone riddled adolescence? Sounds like shit to me."

"For some people it probably was," Kelly said, "the people who were popular and knew how to have fun in that traditionally expected teenager way. For others, like myself, it was really hell. I didn't really enjoy anything about high school, especially once Rachel decided to stop being my friend."

"Yeah, that had to be rough, sorry about that," Wyatt said as they stopped so Kelly could compare a few different boxes of pasta.

"Eh," she said, shrugging, "it's in the past, but that doesn't mean it doesn't still sting a bit in the present, even if we're friends again now. Besides, I have more friends now than I did then, better friends, cooler friends."

Wyatt smiled a little. He couldn't help but feel infected by Kelly's enthusiasm, and then his thoughts turned back to Scarlett, and the fight they'd had that morning. Seemed like all they'd been doing lately was fighting, and he wanted to fix that. Maybe, before they finished their errands, they'd stop at the florist.

                                                                                                          ***

Kelly, seated alone at a table while her bandmate peers all laughed and talk together at another table, tried not to feel too guilty about being on her own. In some ways, she preferred it, but in others, she wished she could join in on their vapid empty conversations. She continued cleaning her saxophone and then packed it up in its bag and headed into the hallway from the cafeteria, walking a bit down the hall until she found the empty space tucked away underneath a stairwell and plopped herself down in the darkened corner. This was her favorite spot to be, because nobody even noticed she was gone, or was there.

As she pulled out a large book about horses from her backpack and opened it, she could hear the clomping of shoes going up and down the stairs overhead, and it was oddly rythmic and relaxing. She leaned back against the wall, knowing she still had a good chunk of time until lunch was over and her next class begun, and started to read. Suddenly, and without warning, someone else scuttered into the space beneath the stairs, surprising her. It was the girl Wyatt had been talking to on the bleachers, Amelia. Kelly lowered her book as Amelia hid and pulled the bookbag against her chest, her eyes red.

"...are you okay?" Kelly asked, and she shook her head; Kelly hesitated, bit her lip, then asked, "what's wrong?"

"People are liars," Amelia whispered, her nose stuffed from crying, "they use you and they lie and they tell you things you wanna hear but things they'll never stick to just so they can continue taking advantage of you."

"Is this about your boyfriend?" Kelly asked, and Amelia glanced towards her, lowering her eyebrows.

"What? No. This is about my father," she said, "no, Wyatt's great, he'd never hurt me. No, my father told me that I should give up on my art, and pick an actual career. This, coming from the man who's a dentist. Doesn't even own the dentistry company he works for, just works for them. Real good person to be taking advice from. My brother and I are both smart enough to get into prestigious technical colleges, and yet he and my mother both want me to give up on my art because they think it 'won't be substantial, financially'. As if something that fulfills you on a personal level has to pay the bills."

Kelly went quiet and just listened. Amelia pushed her hair back into a bushy ponytail and tied up, then wiped her face on her sweater sleeve.

"I think, if you like something enough, you should continue to do it," Kelly said, "regardless of what anyone else might say. Screw them. It's not their future. Just because they couldn't do anything with their lives doesn't mean you can't or shouldn't try to."

Amelia smiled a little, and looked back down at her shoes as Kelly shifted, somewhat uncomfortably, in her cramped space. After a few minutes, Amelia exhaled deeply, slowly and looked back up at Kelly.

"I guess you're in band?" she asked, noticing the uniform.

"Yeah, we have a competition today," Kelly said.

"That's cool. I can only play the piano and even then I don't really to," Amelia replied, checking her watch, "I guess I should go, but...it's nice to talk to someone who also understands the arts. Thanks for talking to me. You're not wrong, either. I'm gonna stick to my guns, not that there was any doubt but having backup sure helps my motivation."

Kelly smiled and waved as Amelia crawled back out from her space and exited, leaving Kelly all alone there once again. Never a friend. Just a bystander with advice.

                                                                                                         ***

Wyatt and Kelly had stopped at a taco stand somewhere downtown to get lunch, and were now sitting in his car, parked in a lot near a large department store, munching away. Kelly looked out the window as she chewed, at a group of teenagers walking along together. Wyatt picked up his cup and took a long sip, as Kelly sighed.

"I'm not saying I'm happy you guys almost got me killed," Kelly said, "but I do admit it's nice to be included in something, even if it something of such illegal measure. When I was a kid, I never had any friends, well, besides Rachel, and even then she eventually stopped talking to me. I understand her reasoning now, but...at the time it really hurt. I also never had a boyfriend or anything. I spent most of my youth watching other kids have fun and be social, because it wasn't something I could obtain for myself."

She turned her head back, took another bite and chewed, then looked towards Wyatt, who was listening intently as he ate.

"Anyway," Kelly said, "I'm just saying it's nice to be included in something, and be considered a person worth caring about. My parents were my only companionship for most of my life and god now saying that out loud makes me realize just how fucking depressing that is to admit and acknowledge."

Wyatt threw his head back and laughed as Kelly opened a small packet of hot sauce and put it on her taco remains.

"I was pretty popular in school all throughout," Wyatt said, "but at the same time, I kind of resented it. It was like they expected me to act like an asshole just because of that, and I'm not an asshole. I go out of my way to try and be nice to people, because that's how my mother raised me. That's why I liked to hang out with the quote unquote 'unpopular kids', because they had experience and wisdom and perspective that I wasn't capable of attaining, because we lived such vastly different lives just because of our social circles, or in their cases more often than not, lack thereof. I think it makes you cooler having been a loner, frankly. Like you said, your differences are your strong suit."

Kelly blushed a little, and nodded as she continued eating. She appreciated Wyatt's friendship so much, even if she couldn't openly say it. The fact that he was helping her run errands, even if only partially to avoid being home, was also very comforting to her. She finished her taco and exhaled, putting her hands on her knees.

"Hearing your voice before the crash," Kelly said, speaking slowly and quietly, as if speaking any louder would somehow shatter glass, "...it helped. It didn't keep me calm, but...it was nice to know, in what I assumed at the time were my last minutes alive, that there was someone on the planet besides my folks and Rachel who cared that much about me."

She looked up and they locked eyes. She smiled bashfully.

"So thanks for that, I guess," she said.

"Hey, whatever I can do to ensure your impending doom is as comfortable as possible, I'll do," Wyatt said, the both of them laughing.

                                                                                                           ***

Kelly and Rachel were out with Kelly's parents at minigol one weekend in Junior year. This had become a routine for them, every Friday night to go minigolfing with Kelly's parents. Rachel liked it because her own parents were so overbearing and cruel, and Kelly liked it because, well, she had her best friend along with her, and that made her feel almost normal. As they walked from one hole to another, Kelly's parents a bit ahead of them, Kelly couldn't help but feel like this was what normal teenage life was supposed to feel like.

"It's weird how simply miniaturizing something gives it vastly more appeal," Rachel said.

"What do you mean?" Kelly asked, twirling her club.

"Well," Rachel continued, "ponies are cuter than horses, they always make the baby version of something popular eventually, and real golf is friggin boring. I don't know, it just seems like people always like the smaller version of things, and I don't blame 'em. I get it."

"It's true, real golf is friggin boring," Kelly said, agreeing, as they both laughed; she continued, "I lke regular horses though, I don't buy into the idea that just because something is smaller it's automatically cuter. I hate babies, for instance. They're ugly and gross."

"Never be a mom," Rachel said, putting her hand on Rachel's shoulder, the both of them laughing again. They finally reached the hole and, along with Kelly's parents, took their next shot. After the game, they all headed back inside the building that the minigolf company operated out of for some food and to play arcade games. After earing, while Kelly's parents sat at the table and chatted and Rachel went off to find some kind of lightgun game to enjoy, Kelly wandered aimlessly through the crowd of her peers, hoping to seek out something worth spending her quarters on. That's when she saw them, Amelia, sitting alone in the plastic seat of a boat racing game. Kelly walked up and sat down herself in the seat beside her.

"Hi," Kelly said.

"hey," Amelia whimpered meekly.

"...do you wanna play this with me?" Kelly asked, and Amelia looked at her. She'd clearly been crying again, but this time, Kelly noticed something. The locket she'd had before, the one that Wyatt had given her at some point in time, was missing. Kelly didn't need explanation. Visual insinuation was more than enough. Amelia wiped her eyes and nodded.

"Yeah, I would, yeah," Amelia said, and with that, Kelly pumped her quarters into the machine and the girls raced. It was never really a friendship, and she wouldn't even remember her name come years down the road, but at the time, Kelly saw a girl, much like herself, who needed someone, and she'd be damned if she was going to ignore that the way others had ignored her.

                                                                                                         ***

"Welp, hope it was as fun as you expected it to be," Wyatt said, pulling up to Kelly's parents house. She climbed out of the car and gathered her things from the trunk. Wyatt climbed out and joined her, taking her groceries while she took her laundry, and they walked up the lawn towards the front door. Kelly opened the door with a key and then they walked inside, setting stuff down in the living room. Kelly turned to face Wyatt, who was now standing in the open doorframe.

"Thanks for helping," Kelly said, "I really couldn't have done all this alone."

"Well, it's the least I could do, considering I'm partially responsible for your situation," Wyatt said, smirking, before turning and walking out the door. Kelly approached, ready to shut it, when he pushed it back open, surprising her; he opened his mouth and said, "...for what it's worth, I'm really sorry we weren't friends in high school."

This took Kelly by absolute surprise. The last thing she'd expected was this sort of admittance.

"You were probably really cool, I mean you are now too, but ya know. I was just so far up my own ass with drama, between my girlfriends and my father and the baseball team and everything, I just...I guess I didn't take the time to recognize the people who are actually interesting, instead of all those fake people I spent time with instead. I'm sorry high school was so shit for you, but for what it's worth, even with all my blessings, it wasn't great for me either. And I'm sorry we weren't friends."

Kelly smiled, wanting to cry, but instead just hugged him. He hugged her back, then left. As she shut the door and watched him at the window as his car pulled away, flowers on the dashboard for his wife, Kelly couldn't help but feel like, in a way, all the bullshit that highschool entailed simply led to the adulthood she now had, and she really wouldn't trade that for anything. Sure, it would've been nice to know Wyatt, actually know him, in high school, but the way she saw it, she got to know him at his best, now, as an adult, and that was well worth the trade off. She closed the blinds and got to putting away the groceries. Her parents would be home soon, and they didn't like a mess.

It hadn't exactly been the best day. Wyatt and Rachel were sitting in the cafe during Rachel's break, each drinking their own coffee, neither one speaking. Wyatt sighed and leaned back in his chair, looking around at all the other people currently in the shop.

"They all make it look so easy," he said, "it always looks so easy from the sidelines, but then, once you're involved, it seems so impossible, and it shouldn't feel impossible, it should feel easy. I'm not saying it shouldn't take any effort, but it shouldn't feel forced."

"Everything's always felt forced," Rachel said, "everything with everyone, always and forever."

"That's a bit dramatic," Wyatt replied, smirking.

"Because it's true," Rachel said, "because nothing with other people is every easy at all in any remote way. You're always questioned, doubted, or entirely disregarded on some level or manner. And even when you think you've finally met the one, when you're finally happy and your dream has come true, it's never the way you want it to be."

"That's life," Wyatt said, picking up his cup and lifting it back to his lips, taking a long sip.

"Says the guy who has everything," Rachel scoffed quietly.

"Excuse me?" Wyatt said, surprised.

"Let's face it, of all of us, you're the one who's made it. Maybe Celia, on some level, but nobody is at the level you're at. You don't have to worry about money or anything, you can just go out and buy your daughter a pony," Rachel said sternly, "meanwhile the rest of us have to work shitty jobs cause we didn't inherit a hugely successful company from our fathers, and in fact, some of us don't even have fathers who want to speak to us."

"Believe me, I'd rather not speak to my father," Wyatt muttered, "...but I guess you're right. That was insensitive of me. I apologize."

They both continued drinking and looking around at all the happy couples.

It hadn't exactly been the best day.

                                                                                                            ***

"You know," Angie said, "when I offered to help you with things, I didn't think they'd be as mundane as grocery shopping."

"Hey," Wyatt said, pushing the cart along an aisle, "you're the one who offered up her services, so I'm gonna put you to work."

"Why did you even want me around?" Angie asked, sipping on the straw in her slushie.

"Because it's nice to be around a woman who isn't questioning every little thing I do," Wyatt said flatly. Angie didn't know this, but earlier that morning, before Wyatt had called Angie up, he and Scarlett had gotten into an argument, an argument that, coincidentally, involved Angie. Angie just shrugged and continued walking alongside the cart as Wyatt grabbed things from the shelves and haphazardly tossed them into the cart. As they turned a corner, Wyatt suddenly backed up and pushed Angie back with him.

"Ow, you ran over my foot! What the hell," Angie asked.

"That's him," Wyatt whispered, peeking around the corner, Angie doing the same. Standing at the end of the aisle was, in fact, Ricky. Wyatt didn't know he was staying in town, much less shopping at his grocery store. Wyatt chewed his lip as he watched the airline investigator choose a brand of bread.

"Who's him?" Angie asked.

"That's the guy who came to my house," Wyatt said, "asking about the crash. He's...he's with the airlines, he's investigating the crash. Says he thinks someone planted an explosive device in someones luggage."

"And why's he talking to you?" Angie asked, furrowing her brow.

"Because the only person who survived is a friend of ours," Wyatt said, "I didn't expect him to be hanging out around town, but I guess he must be interviewing Rachel and Kelly at some point. Would only make sense."

"So why are we hiding from him?" Angie asked.

"Because he has the ability to make my life extremely difficult," Wyatt said under his breath, "and the last thing I need right now is more difficulty."

                                                                                                           ***

Rachel was folding her laundry and hanging other pieces up when Sun Rai came into the bedroom. As Rachel turned, she jumped a little at the sight, laughing. She finished hanging up a jacket and then turned all her attention to Sun Rai, who was standing in the doorway with her arms crossed.

"What's up?" Rachel asked, "I've got to get to work soon, so I'm just putting this laundry away first and-"

"Were you in Stonyham the other week?" Sun Rai asked, catching Rachel off guard.

"Uh, ye-yeah. I went with my friend Calvin," Rachel said, "he was looking for some supplies for something he's making in his shed. He does a lot of metalwork and stuff. Builds a lot of shit. Why?"

"Because my mother said she saw you," Sun Rai said.

"Well, the hell is your mother doing there? That's no place for moms," Rachel asked, making Sun Rai chuckle.

"Valid question," she said, "but still. What were you even doing down there?"

"I was with Calvin, I told you," Rachel said, "he didn't want to go alone, ya know, cause the area is so...uncouth, so he asked me to come along with him. Don't know why he thought my presence would make a difference. Last thing a bunch of drug dealers and gang bangers are gonna be scared of is a hundred and twenty pound white girl, but hey, who am I to question."

Rachel tied her apron around her back and turned to Sun Rai, kissing her on the cheek and smiling.

"Now I do have to get to work, okay?" she said, and exited. She should've just told Sun Rai that she went and got medication off the street, but...but she was so scared that Sun Rai would judge her for it. So scared that she would see her flaws for what they really were, and, in turn, pull away. What Rachel didn't realize was that by not doing just that, she was in essence pulling away herself, inadvertantly. Sun Rai watched Rachel get her purse and leave the apartment, still just wondering about the whole mess. She knew Rachel had mental health issues, but she had no idea just how severe they were, and as Rachel had put it to Wyatt later that afternoon, "if my parents abandoned me because of it, people who, by all rights, should never abandon their child...what chance do I have of a romantic partner sticking around?"

Some people just don't understand love.

                                                                                                      ***

"What should we do about him?" Angie asked as she helped Wyatt pile his groceries into his car. Wyatt pulled the trunk down and stared at her.

"Nothing," he said, "we do absolutely nothing."

"Yeah, because that gets things accomplished," Angie remarked.

"Listen," Wyatt said, pulling his keys from his jacket pocket and opening the car for them both to climb inside; he continued, "as long as nobody says anything, he'll have nothing to work with and eventually leave. Kelly had nothing to do with the crash, she's innocent as rain and he knows it. It was an act of God, not my God but somebodies God, and that is what the airline is going to have to live with. Sometimes there's nobody at fault. Sometimes shit just happens."

But there was someone at fault, and Wyatt felt disgusted with himself for even trying to believe there wasn't. He climbed into the drivers seat, Angie in the passenger, and he pushed the key into the ignition, the both of them pulling on their seatbelts.

"If he's causing you trouble, though-" Angie started, but Wyatt immediately interrupted her.

"Right now he isn't causing anyone any trouble, he's just doing his job," Wyatt said, "and hopefully when he's done with that, because there's nothing to gain, he'll leave. Someone put a bomb in Kelly's bag. It's fucked up but it happens. Domestic terrorists are a dime a dozen, and they choose their victims at random."

"But why would someone want to blow up a plane filled primarily with members of the Evergreens?" Angie asked, and Wyatt looked at his steering wheel, his eyes watering, and Angie suddenly understood; her voice lowered, and she whispered, "...you know who did it, don't you?"

"I had no idea he'd do this," Wyatt said, "which is so stupid, considering what he'd done before. For some reason I...I just ignored the signs, the warnings. If he's capable of this, what else could he do? That's what everyone keeps asking me. I know something has to be done, but...but I don't know what. I can't just turn him into the investigator, that would destroy my life as well, and I can't kill him, cause, well, that's very obvious why. I'm stuck, Angie, I'm just...I'm fuckin' stuck."

Angie looked at Wyatt, her mind racing a mile a minute. The man she worshipped was in pain, seeking out answers. Maybe...maybe this was how she could prove her worth to him.

"Well," she said, "like you said, he's just looking for answers he won't find, right? So let that be the end of it. You're probably right. Nothing will probably come of it. So let's just hope that that's the case."

"It was about you, you know," Wyatt said.

"W...what?" Angie asked, half laughing, confused.

"The fight I had with my wife this morning, it was about you," Wyatt continued, "she didn't understand why some random woman was coming to see me late at night on my driveway, calling my cell phone. I tried to explain to her that you were just a friend, someone I'd helped, and she seemed to buy that cause it's not totally a lie, but it was weird, defending you to my wife. Defending a damn near total stranger to the woman I've built a life with."

Angie reached out and touched Wyatt's shoulder, patting it gently.

"Everyone needs support," she said softly, "even the strongest of us. I didn't mean for my support to be an issue."

"You're not the issue," Wyatt said, half choked up, "...I just need help"

He hated admitting that.

                                                                                                    ***

"They say a partner is someone who's supposed to be on your side, right along with you, ride or die, right?" Rachel asked, "but...but Hollywood lied to us, and glamorized love to an extent it can't be attained. Nobody is going to agree with you one hundred percent of the time and sometimes you're gonna lie to eachother, and sometimes you'll break up and lose the one you really thought was your true love. There is no true love, though, is there? There's just....different levels of love. Some people are more fit for you than others, and some aren't fit at all."

Wyatt picked up his cookie from the basket Rachel had taken from the back shelf and bit into it, shrugging.

"Why you asking me?" he asked, mouth full of cookie, "I mean, shit, you think I'm any more well versed than you are? So I got married, big whoop, not a huge accomplishment. Anyone can do it. Doesn't mean I'm more knowledgeable about these things. Just means I found someone with standards low enough to want to be with me."

Rachel smirked. She appreciated Wyatt's honesty. The cafe was basically closed out for the night, and they were the only two still sitting inside. Rachel had locked everything up and shut most of the lights off. Being here, just the two of them, it harkened back to the beginning of it all.

"I don't know when or how things got so off track," Rachel said, "one minute we were just...talking about about politics, and suddenly we're knee deep in elephant shit, having blown up a man, having caused an airliner to crash. What the hell happened? If I'd known at the start what Calvin would get me involved with, I wouldn't have gone along with it. I mean, the man was in tremendous pain, sure, but...but that was his fight, not mine. Now it's all of ours. His poor choices, his bad decisions, have eaten our lives."

"I know," Wyatt said, nodding, chewing, "I know."

"What do we do about that? Cause I want my life back, Wyatt," Rachel said, "I want things to go back to normal. Sure it might've been boring, but fuck, at least I wasn't terrified twenty four seven. I miss normality. A life of crime isn't as fun as television makes it look."

"Are you asking me the same thing everyone else has?" Wyatt asked, "the same thing you've asked before? What do we do about him? Because frankly I have no idea. We can't turn him in. We can't kill him. The only thing we can hope for is maybe, MAYBE, he comes to his senses and takes full blame for everything himself. Otherwise...I don't see any good outcome for any of us."

Rachel sighed and rested her head on the table. She thought about that night. The reunion.

"He tricked me," Rachel said, "the night of the reunion, I was so upset because Sun didn't show up that I spent most of the evening out on the back steps with Calvin, drinking and making fun of everyone. He used my disappointment to gain my friendship. I know it's genuine, on some level, like...he wanted to get me medication, I know he does care, but at the same time it feels so sleazy looking back on it."

"That's people for you," Wyatt said, checking his watch.

"People suck," Rachel said, making Wyatt laugh.

"Yeah," he said, "most do."

He reached across the table and held her hand, and for a brief moment, they both felt a little better. Even if Calvin's friendship was on shaky grounds, they knew they always had one another no matter what. This was one friendship that nothing could break.

                                                                                                       ***

Ricky was starting to get undressed.

He'd taken a shower when he'd got back to the hotel, and was now getting changed into his pajamas. The TV was on, but was on mute, and he was busy cleaning his fingernails with a small brush as he watched, reading the subtitles. Suddenly there was a gentle knock at the door, and he walked over. He didn't answer, he just stood there for a moment, and then finally pulled the door open only to be greeted by nothing at all. Nobody was there. Ricky was confused, and stepped out a bit further, where he heard a soft crunch under his foot. He glanced down and saw a piece of paper, folded neatly in front of his door. Ricky bent down and picked it up, then went back inside, shutting the door behind him. He unfolded the paper and his eyes scanned the words.

"Dear sir, you don't know me, but I know what you're looking for. Wyatt Bloom isn't as innocent as he lets on. He knows what caused the crash, he knows who caused the crash. Return to his house soon enough. You'll get the answers you're looking for. I promise."

Ricky smirked. Looks like someone else believed in justice. He folded the paper back up, set it gently on the table with his other files, climbed into bed, and shut off the light.

Wyatt was in the kitchen, making breakfast for Mona, Scarlett taking care of their son upstairs. Mona was seated at the table, reading a small chapter book while Wyatt stood at the stove, cooking pancakes. To Wyatt, this was heaven. There was nowhere he'd rather be than here, at home, making breakfast for his daughter. He glanced over his shoulder at her and smiled to himself. Mona represented everything right he'd done in life, the culmination of a million small, good decisions.

"If these animals can talk, why can't people understand them?" Mona asked.

"What are you reading?" Wyatt asked.

"Charlotte's Web," Mona said, "and the animals all talk to one another, but none of the humans ever overhear them or understand them? Are they speaking a secret animal language?"

Wyatt laughed as he flipped the pancakes onto a plate and walked them towards the table, setting them in front of her.

"I don't know, but that's good that you're asking the important questions when it comes to childrens literature," he said. He sat down, coffee mug in his free hand, as he watched Mona bookmark her spot in her book, then pour syrup onto her pancakes and start to eat. Wyatt didn't have any plans for the day. He wasn't going into the office, he wasn't meeting with anyone, and all he really intended to do was spend the entire day here, at home, with his family. Scarlett entered, their son on her hip, and kissed the top of Wyatt's head as she passed by and headed to the fridge for a bottle. Just then there was a knock at the front door and Wyatt, sighing and rolling his eyes, stood up to go answer it. As he tugged the front door open, there, in a charcoal grey three piece suit with a trilby atop his head, stood an orange haired man.

"Hello," the man said brightly, "hi, I'm Ricky Loach."

Ricky held his arm out and Wyatt hesitantly shook his hand as he lifted his coffee mug to his lips and took a sip.

"What can I do for you, Ricky?" Wyatt asked.

"Oh, well, uh," Ricky said, "I'm, I'm actually here on behalf of the Loggins Aircraft Company. I'm doing some legwork for them in regards to the recent crash. It says here you're friends with the only survivor, one Kelly Schuester. I was hoping I could ask you a few questions regarding Miss Schuester?"

And that was when Wyatt knew his free day was gone.

                                                                                                         ***

Calvin was in his shed with Rachel. Calvin was standing over the workdesk and soldering something while Rachel sat away, with her own pair of goggles on just in case, while she ate from an enormous open bag of chips. The radio was on full blast, and neither one was interested in having a conversation, instead opting to happily just be there in silence, enjoying eachothers company. Just then the door to the shed was knocked loudly, and Calvin sighed. He stopped soldering, put down the gun and headed to the door, opening it, only to find Wyatt standing there.

"Hey," Calvin said, "what are you-"

"Do you have any idea how much you've fucked us, cause it's a lot," Wyatt said, entering and then noticing the goggles before asking, "...did I interrupt some kind of steampunk convention?"

"Just doing some metalwork," Calvin said, "it's relaxing."

"It's surprisingly fun to watch," Rachel said, "it's like watching those shows on TV where people drive trucks for a living. This is someone's job, how wild is that? People get up and actually DO things on a day to day basis. Wild."

"What's going on?" Calvin asked.

"An airline investigator came to my house this morning," Wyatt said, "asking about Kelly. Asking about my relationship to Kelly. Because now they're uncovering pieces of the bomb from her bag and painting her as an accountable party. The bomb YOU built and stuffed in there."

An uncomfortable silence filled the shed.

"...yeah," Calvin said quietly, "yeah, I was worried this might happen. So what did you say?"

"What could I say? I just said I knew Kelly from highschool, and otherwise I don't know her well at all. Just that she's a friend of a friend, which means-" Wyatt said, pointing towards Rachel now, who had pulled her goggles up on her forehead, adding, "he's gonna come to you next. Right now our biggest priority is to ensure that Kelly doesn't get pinned for this. She didn't do anything wrong. She was just trying to do her job."

"I think we'd better have a lawyer present," Rachel said, and Wyatt knew just who to call.

                                                                                                        ***

"So," Ricky said, sitting on Wyatt's couch, Wyatt in a lounge chair across from him, still drinking his coffee; Ricky pulled his hat off and set it beside him, continuing, "what is your relationship to Miss Schuester?"

"Not much of one, really," Wyatt said.

"Says you were one of the first ones at the hospital to see her. Doesn't sound like not much of one," Ricky replied.

"Well, she's a friend of a friend from highschool, I more went to support my friend, you know? Be comfort for her. But as far as Kelly and I are concerned, we'd met maybe twice? Three times total? I'm not saying we don't know eachother, but we know eachother about as well as, say, someone who lives in a dorm with another student. We're cordial, but otherwise, yeah."

Ricky laughed as he wrote something down on a piece of paper.

"That's fair," he said, "I remember being in college and never talking to my dormmate. They were just kinda there, you know? So you don't know Miss Schuester well, okay, but can I ask you about some of your interactions with her? Maybe, perhaps, of what your impression of her might be? She's a local weather girl, as you obviously know, but did she ever come across as, say...an impassioned fighter for nature? A sort of ecorights warrior?"

Wyatt laughed into his coffee, fighting back the urge to cackle like an idiot and do a full on spit take.

"Sorry, sorry," Wyatt said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, "I'm sorry, that's just...that's so stupid. What would...like...why would you even think that?"

"Because we found shrapnel and other pieces of what appear to be part of a homemade explosive in her luggage," Ricky said, and Wyatt felt his heart drop in his chest; Ricky continued, "she's on a plane full of people people fighting for the environment, under the name of a monster, and perhaps she had motive to stop them."

"But if she were a part of that belief system, why would she blow anyone up? Let alone I doubt she knows how to make a bomb," Wyatt said, "woman can barely use a knife and fork properly."

"Maybe she disagreed with the way they were going about things, or maybe she hated who they followed," Ricky said, shrugging, "listen, it's no secret that Oliver Bloom was a horrible person, and the fact that they chose to ignore that aspect of him in favor of worshipping his 'message' to save the planet is, between you and I, kinda fuckin' gross. Maybe she felt the same way."

Wyatt set his mug down on the coffee table beside him and sighed, crossing his legs.

"Listen," Wyatt said, "I've met Kelly like three, maybe four times total. So sure, I don't know her that well and maybe I don't know what she could possibly be capable of. Plenty of people lead double or even triple lives. But between you and me, from what little knowledge about her I've accrued, she doesn't strike me as the kind of person to do such a thing. As for finding pieces of an explosive device, yeah, that looks bad, very suspicious, but I'm willing to bet if you asked her to rebuild it, she would't know the first thing about how to do so."

"Then how'd it get there?" Ricky asked, shrugging.

"...I...I don't know, I'm just spitballing here," Wyatt said, stammering, "all I'm saying is she's a fucking weather girl, man. And, just as an added bonus, why would she board a plane she intended to blow up? How would that help her cause? Kelly isn't responsible for such a thing."

Ricky nodded slowly, jotting some other things down in his legal pad before shutting it and looking at Wyatt sternly.

"Yes?" Wyatt asked.

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

"You've already asked a bunch, so what's stopping you," Wyatt replied, picking his mug back up and continuing to drink.

"...from the phone records," Ricky said, "it said she called you from the airplane before it crashed."

"She did, and she sounded terrified," Wyatt said.

"Well, yeah, that's what I was gonna say," Ricky said, "the airline records all in flight outgoing calls for posterity sake, and having heard it, yeah, she sounded legitimately, genuinely terrified. Which leads me to believe, personally, that you're right, and she had no clue that that thing was in her bag. Course I can't just present my ideas without evidence to back them up. If she didn't build it, put it in there, then who did? That's the question we're really after."

Wyatt nodded slowly, listening. He could turn Calvin in right now. He could pin Calvin for it, give him up for Grudin's death as well, and make this all go away, but...but he couldn't do that. He knew he couldn't. He wasn't that type of person. Besides, he was as partially responsible for Grudin's death as Calvin was, and he didn't want to risk going down himself for it. Wyatt sighed and shook his head.

"Guess you got a real mystery on your hands, don't you?" Wyatt asked, and Ricky smirked.

"Luckily for me," Ricky said, "I'm very good at solving puzzles."

                                                                                                       ***

"Okay, for the final time, I'm an ecological lawyer," Celia said.

She and Wyatt were standing just outside the shed, Calvin and Rachel inside talking amongst themselves. Celia had her arms crossed, looking clearly annoyed at having been called down here. Wyatt, his hands on his hips, didn't look too pleased himself to be dealing with this situation on what had previously been, just an hour before, his day off.

"The investigator says she might've been doing it for the sake of the environment, can't we spin that in a good way?" Wyatt asked, "I mean, here's the thing, I don't want Kelly to go down for this, she's totally innocent, but maybe Calvin would agree to take the hit, and we can say he's just...a nature lover. You're a defense lawyer fighting against big businesses hurting the planet, can't you do your magic?"

"First of all, to assume it's that easy is ridiculous, secondly, the kind of cases I work on are about paper companies overshooting on their estimations, not people blowing up planes to save the world from even nuttier nature preservationists, okay?"

Wyatt sighed and sat down on the wooden picnic bench in the backyard. Celia sat down beside him and put a hand on his back.

"Frankly," Celia said quietly, "I think, and this sucks to say but...I think she needs to know."

"She can't know," Wyatt said, chewing on his thumbnail, "she can never know. If she knew..."

"If she knew, she could more easily defend herself if anyone comes after her," Celia said, "but you said it yourself, even this investigator doesn't think she's remotely responsible. Right now they're running in circles with no real leads. The worst thing we can do for her is pretend we know nothing. Besides, she wouldn't hate you, you were unaware of what Calvin did, and you tried to beat the shit out of him for it afterwards."

Wyatt nodded, slowly realizing Celia was right. He was backed into a corner, and Kelly had to finally know. He sighed and looked at Celia, who just smiled warmly at him and pulled him into a hug. Wyatt cried on her shoulder while she rubbed his back, reassuring him he'd be okay.

"this was my day off," he whispered.

"Yeah, me too," Celia replied.

                                                                                                       ***

Ricky walked through the doorway and stopped on the front porch, turning back to face Wyatt.

"Yeah?" Wyatt asked, "anything else?"

"Just give me a call if you have any other ideas or information," Ricky said, handing Wyatt his card from his coat pocket, adding, "ya know, it's weird, people can be doing noble things, truthfully the right thing, morally, but if done in a way that's viewed as wrong, their entire purpose can be twisted. Suddenly what was seen as heroic is seen as monstrous. I'm all for saving the environment myself, but not at the expense of blowing people up, even if they were self proclaimed nutjobs."

"Morals are tricky," Wyatt said, "that's why so many polticians don't last long."

"Wyatt," Ricky said, smirking at his statement, "I'm just letting you know...I might not be the only one asking about this. There might be others coming forward. Insurance companies. Detectives. Whatever. Just know that I'm on your side, pal, I wanna help get the right person for this, not the wrong one. If you're gonna trust anyone, trust me, cause, if you don't...who knows what could happen."

Wyatt furrowed his brow and pocketed the card.

"Is that a threat?" Wyatt asked.

"More like a..." Ricky said, shrugging, "a warning, I guess. Have a good afternoon."

With that, Ricky Loach turned and walked off the front porch. Before he knew it, Wyatt was upstairs, getting dressed, and racing over to Calvin's. And now...now after being at Calvin's, he found himself heading somewhere else. It was time for Kelly to know the truth.

                                                                                                         ***

Kelly was laying on the couch, watching TV and eating pretzel sticks out of a large bowl when the front door opened. She watched as Wyatt came around the side of the wall and entered the living room, and she immediately perked up, muting the television as he sat down.

"You know, the front door is unlocked, any old weirdo could just come in here," he said.

"Any old weirdo did," Kelly replied, winking, making him smirk.

"Where are your folks?"

"At work," Kelly said, "what's up?"

Wyatt shifted uncomfortably in his seat and sighed.

"Kelly," he said, "...today I had someone from the airline come and meet with me. He asked me about you, about the plane crash. He said they founded pieces of an explosive device within your luggage. Thankfully he doesn't buy that you put it there, but..."

"...a bomb? There was a bomb in my shit?" Kelly asked, sounding surprised and scared simultaneously.

"Yeah," Wyatt nodded, "a bomb. A homemade bomb. And, uh...don't worry, I mean, I told him you obviously had nothing to do with it, you can barely work your oven, and like I said, he doesn't believe for one second you were remotely responsible for such a thing, but..."

Wyatt looked down at his feet as Kelly shifted, sitting upright as best she could, looking anxious.

"Wyatt?" she asked softly.

"We need to talk about Calvin," Wyatt said.

Everything came out from that point on. Grudin. The Evergreens. Brighton. Calvin's past and his obsession with bomb making. By the end of it all, Kelly was aghast, and Wyatt was sobbing, apologizing, but Kelly didn't blame him for one second. Kelly never would. She knew Wyatt now, she knew he was a good man and would never willingly hurt her, and if nothing else, she seemed grateful for having been told the truth. Wyatt promised her that she'd be protected, would never be blamed for anything, she was a total and complete innocent who, thanks to Calvin, had been roped into their nonsense, and Kelly felt appreciative to be kept safe.

"This is...ridiculous," Kelly muttered.

"Yeah, it's been a hell of a few months," Wyatt replied, wiping his eyes on his shirt sleeve, "but, ya know, I'm gonna do my best to continue to keep things together, make sure nothing gets any worse, and-"

"And what about Calvin?" Kelly asked, "he's clearly unhinged. If he blew up a plane, what will he do next?"

Wyatt had been asking himself that very question, just as had Rachel asked him as well the day of the crash. Just as Celia had once inquired the day they shredded those pictures and files down by the riverbank. Wyatt knew Calvin himself was a ticking timebomb, ready to go off and take everyone around him with him, and what do you do with bombs? How do you save those who don't deserve to be blown to smithereens?

You defuse them.

"Okay, if I'm gonna let you help me, meet my friends, you need to be normal," Wyatt said.

He was standing in Angie's bedroom. Her folks were gone for the day, and he told Calvin and Rachel they would come pick them up once he had his "supplier", though he didn't really know what he meant by that seeing as Angie wasn't even the one who had drugs, she just knew where they could be obtained. Angie tilted her head at him, a confused look on her face.

"Am I normally not?" she asked, sounding almost hurt.

"No, no, don't take it to mean that," Wyatt said, "no, I just mean, uh...you gotta be...ya know, socially acceptable."

"Oh, well, that's so different," Angie said, sneering. Wyatt sighed and sat down on her bed, scratching the back of his head.

"You just can't be going on about worship and stuff, you'll freak 'em out and Rachel's already on edge cause of her hallucinations and...and Calvin, that's a whole other can of worms altogether. That guy is always one light switch short of mass murder, it seems like," Wyatt said, running his face through his hands and sighing, adding, "You say you wanna help me, then help me. Please."

"What makes you even think I know where to look," Angie asked, crossing her legs as she sat in her desk chair.

"Because you were part of The Evergreens, and groups like that aren't going over the counter," Wyatt said, "you know someone downtown has some kind of hook up. We're not even looking for a technically illegal substance. Just antipsychotics. And knowing you...the issues you deal with..."

Angie grimaced, then sighed, nodding.

"Alright," she said, "I know where we can go."

                                                                                                         ***

Before joining the Evergreens, Angie was...well....it'd be a lie to say she was 'normal', but she was moderately plain at best. Despite her family's involvement, then exit, from a cult early in life, she lived a fairly ordinary childhood. She went to school, she had friends, she participated in after school activities. On the surface, Angie Dickenson seemed to be just your average everyday young lady. But nobody saw the things she saw in her head. They had no way of knowing just how sick she actually was. Because to look at her from afar, in her pretty dress with her femme appearance and her cheeerful demeanor, you'd never guess she saw things that weren't there, or heard things nobody else heard. You'd never guess she wasn't like you.

It really started in earnest when she was a teenager.

After spending a good chunk of her youth in the cult with her parents, and eventually leaving, she started to cling to the belief that she was destined for more, because, well, for all of her adolescence that was the line she'd been fed by their leader. When she started to hear a voice telling her how she could achieve 'more', she listened. She started harrassing other students at school, but never gave her parents shit. After a while, her folks knew they couldn't let this continue unchecked, so they got Angie into therapy, and on various medications and, for the most part, it all seemed to calm down. She wound up joining the Evergreens and then...and then she met Wyatt Bloom.

And it started all over again.

                                                                                                       ***

"How do you even know this girl?" Calvin asked, as he and Wyatt stood outside Wyatt's car, Angie in the front passenger seat, as they waited for Rachel to come down from her apartment.

"It's a long story," Wyatt said.

"I'm not goin' anywhere," Calvin replied.

"She was part of the Evergreens, but she left," Wyatt said, "since I apparently convinced her not to be involved with them, she didn't end up on the plane, and now she wants to thank me however she can. I guess finding street drugs is one way of helping me. Frankly, I don't want to be involved with her whatsoever, she creeps me the hell out, but..." Wyatt sighed and looked back up at the apartment building, adding, "...but Rachel needs help, and I want to help Rachel be okay."

Calvin smiled weakly. He was glad Wyatt did seem to genuinely care about Rachel, that they were in fact actual friends. She deserved that kind of support. Finally Rachel came out of the front doors of the apartment building and jogged up to them, looking anxious and nervy.

"You doin' okay, sport?" Wyatt asked, hitting her on the shoulder.

"What are you, my little league coach?" Rachel asked, making them both laugh; she added, "come on, let's just...let's just do this, yeah? I can't be like this for another day."

Rachel pulled open the back door to the car and climbed in as Calvin went around to the other side, also entering. Wyatt climbed back into the drivers side seat and started the car back up once everyone's seat belt was fastened. He exhaled, pulled away from the curb and started to drive towards an area of town they all often avoided, primarily because it was associated with the exact kind of activity they were attempting today. As they pulled into the street and immediately hit traffic, Wyatt sighed and rested his forehead on the steering wheel.

"So you used to be on antipsychotics?" Rachel asked, leaning between the front seats, talking to Angie.

"I was, yeah," Angie replied, "and, well, maybe I still should be, but that's hard to determine."

"Well I really appreciate your help," Rachel said, "I don't have the kind of insurance or money that would cover medication, so, seriously...this...this means a lot."

Angie smiled. She was happy to help, after all it's what she'd been doing most of her life. Helping. Course, all Wyatt could think of with both Angie and Calvin together in the car is how Angie had no idea that the very man who nearly killed her was sitting right behind her. Wyatt rolled his window down, put his arm out and chewed on his lip.

"So," Calvin asked, "where are we going?"

A pause as Wyatt glanced at Angie and then sighed.

"Stonyham," Wyatt said.

                                                                                                    ***

Of all the people to know what Stonyham was, Wyatt was the last one you'd expect. Stonyham was a small suburb about 40 minutes away from where they lived, and was often the place where, in high school, teenagers would frequent for their obtaining of illicit narcotics and alcohol. The only reason Wyatt even knew what it was was because before meeting Scarlett, he and Amelia had gone up there to try and get something one weekend. It had been Amelia's idea, surprisingly enough, because she'd read in a book somewhere that eating mushrooms could make you hallucinate, and she wanted that vivid experience to help her come up with new ideas. Wyatt, being the supportive boyfriend he was, was on board, albeit hesitantly.

After finding out from another kid on his baseball team where exactly to get such a hookup, Wyatt and Amelia set aside their Saturday night and headed on up to Stonyham. Once they'd acquired the substance, they drove back down to their area - mostly for fear of being robbed while high up there - and parked in a secluded spot where nobody would bother them. They laid on the hood of the car and ate the mushrooms together, then watched the night sky overhead. Looking back on it years later, this would be one of the best memories from Wyatt's high school years, and in hindsight, it only made him feel even worse for how things with Amelia had gone down. Lying there, staring up at the stars above, Wyatt could feel Amelia lace her fingers in his and he smiled.

"What if the universe is just a falsehood, like a...a tulpa, cause we believe in it, so that makes it real, but it doesn't actually exist in a tangible sense?" Amelia asked.

"That's...that's a lot, right now," Wyatt replied, the both of them laughing.

"It just seems like too much is too perfect," Amelia continued, "like how the food cycle exists so circularly, like it was designed to be that way, when really it's just random happenstance."

"I don't wanna go home," Wyatt said suddenly, feeling clammy and anxious.

"Why?" Amelia asked.

"I'm scared of my dad," Wyatt whispered, rolling onto his side on the hood and looking at Amelia, who did the same. Wyatt looked at her, his eyes wide, like he was about to cry, "will you protect me?"

"I'll protect you," Amelia whispered, reaching out and touching his face gently, bringing to him a sense of calm.

Yes, this was the only time he'd ever openly admitted being scared of his father, and it was to the one girl he'd wind up hurting the most in his life. Wyatt regretted a lot of his actions, but the way he ended things with Amelia still topped the list, and he wasn't sure he'd ever get the chance to say sorry, or that she'd even accept his apology if he managed to. He didn't want to make that kind of mistake again. Perhaps that explained his patience with Angie, despite her clearly mentally unwell state of being, but all Wyatt really knew was that he trusted women far more than he trusted men, and so if Angie told him to go to Stonyham, he'd go to Stonyham, especially if it meant helping Rachel. After Amelia, Wyatt made a vow to himself to never hurt another woman again, and instead to do what he could to help them.

And he'd almost keep that promise.

                                                                                                        ***

"You ever think about the fact that your hair and nails keep growing after you die?" Rachel asked, looking at her hand, "that drives me insane. I have to not only be dead, but I also have to be unkempt?"

"Frankly I think between the two being dead is the worse part," Calvin said.

"They should have beauticians that come by and open up coffins for like the first year after death, keep you looking presentable, even if you're not being presented to anyone," Angie said, "it's just common courtesy."

"Guys, could you lighten up a bit, this is kinda grim," Wyatt said as he headed onto the small bridge that led into Stonyham, the others all chuckling at him. Rachel leaned back in her seat and admired her nails once more. Calvin looked out the window at the water below them and thought about how he and his sister used to go swimming up at their grandparents lake cabin, and how much he missed that. How much he missed her. Seemed he was always drawn to the water in one way or another, like when he'd shredded all those files with Wyatt and Celia.

"It's genuinely terrifying," Rachel said softly from the backseat, fidgeting with her hands, "knowing something isn't real, yet seeing it, and thus gaslighting yourself int believing it could be. You begin to question your own eyes and sense of reality. It warps everything, throws all of being into question. Some people can handle it, but...I'm not one of those people."

"Well, we're gonna get you fixed right up," Wyatt said, "don't worry, we'll find something for you."

Rachel smiled, feeling extremely lucky to have the kinds of friends she did. Had she known back in high school that one day Wyatt Bloom and Calvin Klepper would be assisting her in any way they could to help her mental faculties, she would've scoffed at the idea, and yet, now, here they were doing just that. Seemed preposterous. As they pulled into a small neighborhood, Angie patted Wyatt on the arm a few times, then motioned for him to pull over here, so he did. As the car came to a slow crawl and finally stopped, Angie looked at Wyatt, and Wyatt sighed, pulling out his wallet and handing her a wad of cash.

"Don't overspend," Wyatt said.

"It costs what it costs," Angie replied, "you don't haggle with drug dealers, that's how you wind up dead. Seeing as I've already skirted death by a hair once, I'm not looking to do it again."

With that, Angie exited the car, and Calvin, surprising the others, offered to go with her. Wyatt watched them exit into a building, and then he leaned back in his chair and sighed. Rachel climbed up into the front seat and pulled her knees up to her chest on the chair, resting her chin on them.

"You alright?" Wyatt asked.

"I don't know," Rachel said, shrugging, "I just wish my parents cared more. They just see all my problems as self imposed. People of that generation, anything that's wrong with someone is either made up or something of their own doing. My parents know I was almost sexually assaulted, they know I see things, but they just...don't care. They prefer to ignore them, because oh no, their perfect little girl might make them social pariahs if they acknowledge any of her faults."

"Do they know you're gay?" Wyatt asked, and Rachel shook her head, chuckling.

"Fuck no," she said, "god, could you imagine? Being mentally ill and queer? They'd outright disown me. My dad, once when I was back from college after the assault and after I'd started hallucinating, I overheard him say to my mom that watching me was like watching a slow motion car accident."

Wyatt felt bad for Rachel. It was clear she'd struggled to connect with her own family, and being someone who also struggled to connect with his, particularly his father, he knew that pain. His thoughts then turned to Mona. Hopefully he wasn't being that way with her. Hopefully he was doing things right. The last thing he wanted was for her to look back on her childhood and feel let down, and not because he'd feel like a failure, but because she'd be upset. He sighed and scratched his forehead.

"Having kids is easy," he said, "raising kids is hard. Anyone can have them, but raising them? Being nurturing? That's just something a lot of people think they have in them, but they don't. Not really. They think they can do it, but when it comes down to it, they can't. And it's fine, it's not for everyone, but what's the worst is when people have kids regardless of knowing they can't do it properly. Then they just...damage another person. You deserved a better family, Rachel, I'm so sorry."

Rachel looked at Wyatt, her face wet with tears, as she leaned in against him and rested her face on his chest, and he reached up and stroked her hair while she cried.

"Why don't they want me," she whimpered, and Wyatt shook his head.

"I don't know," Wyatt said, whispering back, "but we do. That has to count for something."

Rachel smiled and nodded, continuing to cry and hugging him. After a bit, Angie and Calvin returned, pills in hand. Angie returned what was left of Wyatt's money, and together, the group drove out of Stonyham. This was the last time Wyatt ever wanted to come here. Life was dangerous enough with spending it in a run down inner city suburb. By the time they got back to their part of town, Wyatt suggested they get dinner, and offered to pay. The four of them ate a family restaurant, and had a pretty good time doing so. Even Rachel, who just an hour before had been in a precariously emotional state, was having a great time with them, and Wyatt felt like, if she didn't have a good family, he'd have to be the next best thing.

She deserved that much.

                                                                                                       ***

After dropping everyone else off, Wyatt pulled up to Angie's parents place and parked. Angie gathered her small backpack and climbed out of the car, then leaned back in through the rolled down passenger window and looked at Wyatt, who looked back at her with uncertainty, unsure of what she wanted.

"...thanks for including me," Angie said, "it feels nice, to be a part of something again. After leaving the Evergreens, it felt like I didn't really have a purpose. I'm glad to be able to help."

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it," Wyatt said, "not to be rude, but I just don't foresee many instances where we'll require your specific kind of help. But, you know, if you want to just hang out with us, you're free to."

Angie felt her heart swell with joy, and she had to fight to hold back tears.

"You know," Angie said, "when I was little, my parents and I were in a cult."

"Seems to be a common occurance with you," Wyatt said, making her snort, laughing.

"Yeah, well," she said, "Some people just function better in a restrictive situation like that. Anyway, ever since that dissolved, I looked for another place to feel...needed. The Evergreens were great, but, you were right. I was following a martyr who didn't deserve matyrdom. I don't want to die for a cause I don't believe in, just because others are. But you, Wyatt, you're someone worth following. You would've made a great cult leader."

With that, Angie said goodnight, then headed inside, leaving Wyatt in his car, speechless. He grabbed the steering wheel with both hands and let his forehead hit the center of the wheel, beeping a soft honk.

"Dammit," he whispered.

Rachel woke up and licked her lips. She needed a glass of water. She slowly climbed out of bed and headed quietly down the hallway, heading to the stairs to get downstairs to get a drink. She walked quietly so as not to wake her parents. Rachel put her hand on the stairway bannister and gripped firmly, walking softly down the stairs. With her free hand, she reached up and rubbed her eyes, yawning. Suddenly, through the blurriness of her sight, she saw it at the bottom of the stairs. It was standing there, its skin clear, translucent, its organs visible. Rachel screamed and stumbled, falling down the remainder of the stairs.

Soon Rachels parents arrived to help her up, and make sure she was okay. Her mother escorted her back to her bedroom, while her father went and got her a glass of water. Once Rachel had finished drinking it, she apologized to them both for waking them up, and they continued to reassure her that it was okay, and they were just happy she was okay. Rachel said goodnight to her parents, and laid back down to sleep as her parents left her bedroom. Lying in the dark, terrified she'd see it again, Rachel instead tried to think about something - anything - else. After a while, her mind settled on a girl she'd met at art camp that summer. She shut her eyes and imagined talking to her, trying to ease herself back into a restful sleep by daydreaming about her. It seemed to work, because in about fifteen minutes, Rachel was asleep again.

Now, as an adult, Rachel awoke and rolled over in bed, seeing Sun Rai asleep beside her. Rachel smiled and nuzzled up to her, pushing her face against Sun's neck. Sun smiled and ran her hand up into Rachel's hair, stroking it gently. At least now, even if she was seeing the horse again, Rachel had someone who could truly help her, and that made her feel much safer. She couldn't imagine being without her now, she'd become such a source of comfort. Rachel opened her eyes and spied the horse, standing behind Sun Rai, and quickly shut her eyes again. She'd do what she'd been taught. Ignore it. But it was hard to ignore things that refused to be ignored.

Rachel conceded that she finally needed help.

                                                                                                          ***

"Alright," Wyatt said, squirting mustard onto his burger, "here's how this is gonna go. I'm not someone to worship."

Wyatt had invited Angie to lunch, to try and dissuade her from following him. He'd even offered to buy her lunch.

"I'm just a dude, alright, I'm not...I'm not some kind of seer or all seeing knowledgable diety, I'm just some guy who happened to, coincidentally, give you some good advice that then happened to, coincidentally, save your life. And while I understand you're grateful for that, it doesn't warrant worshipping me," Wyatt said, taking a bite of his burger, speaking while chewing, "because quite frankly, and you can even confirm this with my wife, I'm nothing special."

"I know you don't have powers," Angie said, chuckling, "I'm not crazy, Wyatt."

Wyatt scoffed. That was a rich one.

"But that isn't what it's about," Angie said, "you did something amazing. You pulled me out of a cult, and you kept me from dying for an unjust martyr. I have to repay you somehow."

"Repay me by not stalking me, how's that sound?" Wyatt asked, and Angie laughed as she picked up her own burger and beginning to eat. How could he possibly get through to this girl that this wasn't acceptable behavior? His only real chance was going to the police about her, but, given his activities, he didn't really feel like getting involved with law enforcement. Wyatt sighed and set his burger down, scratching his forehead. He finally said, "okay, Angie, I'm going to pay you, okay? How's that sound? You want some money?"

"Money?"

"Yes. One thousand dollars to leave me the hell alone, how's that sound? Usually the worshipped is the one asking for money, but in this instance, I'm giving it to you, so maybe you can see how much better I am," Wyatt said, pulling out his checkbook and a pen, "so I'm going to write you this check for a thousand dollars, and you do whatever you want with it. Go to therapy, go to school, I don't care, just...stop following me and leave my family alone."

"Wyatt, what kind of maniac do you take me for?" Angie asked, sounding genuinely hurt, "...I don't want to hurt you, or your family. I just want to repay the favor. Be of any kind of help that I can."

Wyatt stopped writing the check and then set his pen down. He knew he couldn't actually pay Angie off without Scarlet wondering where the money had gone to. He sighed and ran one hand up through his hair, feeling backed into a corner without any options. What move could he make here, realistically?

"I...I appreciate that, but I really don't need any help," Wyatt said.

"If you do, you know I'll be there," Angie said.

Wyatt smiled weakly. All creepiness aside, it was one of the more enjoyable lunches he'd had lately, and that surprised him most of all.

                                                                                                         ***

Calvin opened the shed door, only to find Rachel standing there.

"My parents told you I was out here?" he asked, stepping aside and letting her come in.

"Yeah, they didn't seem all that surprised that you had a visitor," Rachel replied, stepping into the shed. She handed Calvin a bag of chips she'd brought with her, and he laughed as he took them and pulled them open.

"It's not a potluck, you're not expected to bring something everytime you come over," he said, chuckling.

"Felt natural," Rachel said, shrugging, leaning against his worktable and adding, "...um...I need some help. You have a sister, right? A sister with some mental health problems?"

"Yeah, why?" Calvin asked, pouring the chips into a large plastic bowl and setting it on the table.

"...how severe are her issues?" Rachel asked.

"Depends," Calvin said, "Depends on whether or not she's taking her medication, whether or not she's in therapy, those sorts of things. Some days it seems manageable, other days it's not at all. It's really a day by day basis type situation. Why?"

"I...when I was eleven," Rachel said, exhaling slowly, her hands trembling, "I was very heavily involved in horseback. Used to take lessons, used to do performances, it was such an upperclass white girl thing. It's one of the reasons Kelly and I became such good friends, was because of this shared interest. Anyway, one year, I was on this horseback trail with another girl and our instructor. Anyway, we stopped riding for a few minutes, ya know, give the horses a break and maybe have a snack, and the other girl, Amy, she went to get something from her bag and..."

Calvin picked out a few chips and ate them, waiting for Rachel to continue, only to notice the tears starting to roll down her face. Rachel reached up and wiped them with her sweatshirt sleeve, exhaling, her voice shaky.

"...and as she was passing back towards me to give me what I'd asked for, my horse kicked her," Rachel said, hers and Calvins eyes locking as she added, quietly, "...in the head."

"Jesus."

"Yeah," Rachel said, hopping up onto the worktable and crossing her legs, "yeah, it was...not good. Gruesome. We obviously had to end the ride right then and there and get her back to help, but we were so far from the ranch that it took us over an hour to get back, and by the time we did, there wasn't much they could do to salvage the situation. She incurred tremendous brain damage. She wasn't the same person anymore. She didn't even know who she was. I've always felt so responsible, and it was shortly after that that the hallucinations started."

"Why is it see through?" Calvin asked, and Rachel shrugged.

"Far be it from me to make sense of my mental instabilities and give you satisfying answers," she replied, "all I know is that it's started again, and I need to do something about it. I need help, Calvin. I was hoping you might be able to help me."

Calvin nodded, listening. After all the wrong he had done, he figured he owed it to Rachel to try and do right instead. He didn't know how he could manage it, but he would help her get on medication. Calvin walked around the table to the front of her and hugged her. Rachel cried against his shoulder as he rubbed her back.

"You're alright," he said softly, "we'll figure this out."

                                                                                                        ***

"You're in some deep shit," Celia said, as Wyatt paced in his office while she ate her sandwich.

"Thanks, I wasn't aware of that," Wyatt said, making her laugh; he quickly added, "I...I don't know what to do, or if I even should do anything. I mean, she doesn't seem to pose an immediate threat, but at the same time, I can't have some young woman following me around begging to do things for me."

"Are you sure you're a man?" Celia asked, and Wyatt smirked as he sat on his desk and lit a cigar.

"Everything just keeps going from bad to worse," Wyatt said, "there's virtually no way to guarantee she won't fly off her handle and do something wild. I know she said she just wants to help me if she can, but...but what if I keep insisting I don't need her help, and then she decides to turn against me as a result?"

"You're putting way too much thought into this," Celia said, setting her sandwich down and picking up her drink; after she took a long sip, she burped and said, "just face it as it is. She's some of weird devoted fangirl, she's not going to turn on you. Have her do simple errands just to keep her satisfied if you're so worried. Otherwise just ignore it."

Wyatt took a long puff from his cigar and sighed. He couldn't believe this. All of this stemmed from one decision...Robert Grudin. Had he never involved himself with that, had he never involved himself with Calvin, none of this would've happened. Course, he might not know Celia and Rachel and Kelly as a result, and he definitely didn't want to miss out on those friendships, even in spite of the danger Calvin invited into his life. Wyatt took another long puff, then stubbed it out in the ashtray.

"Maybe you're right," Wyatt said, "it's a good thing you're so level headed, you often keep me grounded, and I appreciate that."

"Well, there's a reason I'm a lawyer," Celia said, shrugging.

"Yeah, for trees," Wyatt muttered.

"Hey, trees need representation," Celia said, the both of them laughing.

Truth be told, Wyatt meant every word he said. Celia was the closest thing he had to a normal friend, and greatly appreciated her down to earth approach to various problems and issues. She often kept him on his feet, and that made him feel safer, even in the most dangerous situations. Wyatt really didn't know where he'd be without her input.

"And if she really does wanna do things for you," Celia said, "send her my way. I'll give her some stuff to do. My garage could use some cleaning."

"I'm not going to use my worshippers for slave labor," Wyatt said.

"Jeez, what kind of God are you?" Celia asked, the both of them laughing.

                                                                                                            ***

"Do they have you on heavy medication?" Rachel asked, sitting on Kelly's bedside, both of them looking through old National Geographic magazines.

"Kinda? I have stuff I have to take for pain now and then," Kelly said, "but that's only when it gets to be too insufferable. Wish I could do that for everything else that's insufferable. Oh, some creep is hitting on me, just pop a Jerk-B-Gone and be free of that headache in an instant."

Rachel laughed and nodded, agreeing. She knew coming to see Kelly would cheer her up. Her time with Calvin had been good, necessary, but being with her actual best friend was a real pick me up, emotionally.

"Are you able to bathe, or do your parents have to give you sponge baths?" Rachel asked.

"Okay, we're not talking about this anymore," Kelly replied, turning the page in her magazine, asking, "what possible reason could you have to even know? You plan on surviving a plane crash too?"

"Not particularly, unless you recommend it," Rachel said.

"Eh, it's got a kind of thrill to it," Kelly shrugged.

Rachel looked up from her magazine and around the room. Truthfully, though she wouldn't tell Kelly this, she was trying to eke out any kind of information she might have in regards to the medication she had lying around, knowing full well none of it would actually do what she needed it to do, but she didn't know where else to go. Rachel sighed and went back to looking at her magazine as Kelly reached for the glass on her bedside table.

"Maybe when I'm better, I'll go into the street drug trade," Kelly said, "supplement my weather girl income by selling whatever pain medication I have leftover."

And that's when Rachel got the idea.

                                                                                                        ***

Wyatt pulled up in his driveway and shut his car off. He reached for his briefcase on the passenger seat, gripping the handle, and opened his door, climbing out of the car. Once he was standing in the driveway, he heard the sound of something falling to the ground and glanced downwards, only to notice he'd dropped his car keys. He sighed, annoyed, before bending down to retrieve them.

"We need some help," Calvin said from behind, scaring him. Wyatt, just as he'd done with Angie the night before, leapt upwards, hand to his chest.

"Everyone needs to stop doing that to me!" he shouted.

"Wyatt, this is serious," Calvin said. Wyatt looked past Calvin, spying Rachel in Calvin's car, and he furrowed his brow.

"What's this about?" Wyatt asked.

"Rachel needs help," Calvin said, "she needs serious antipsychotics. She's been having hallucinations, and I'm worried if we lose her, we'll lose ourselves. She's the glue. We need to do something to keep her stabilized. Now, I know you have health insurance, but you likely can't get something you don't need, which is why Rachel's suggested we go to the street for it. Sadly, neither of us know anyone who might know how to score street level antipsychotics."

Wyatt sighed and looked at his shoes.

"I do," he said quietly, surprising Calvin with this admittance, before reaching into his coat pocket and pulling his cell phone out, dialing, then waiting. An answer. Wyatt grimaced and said, "Hey, Angie, it's Wyatt. I need you to do something for me."

Wyatt had been having that dream again.

It would come in cycles. Sometimes he wouldn't have it for months, maybe even a year, and then suddenly it'd be recurring for weeks straight. In the dream, he was back in high school, in his old bedroom, sitting with Amelia Klepper as she relayed to him her story ideas about a new werewolf idea she had. One where a group of werewolves infiltrate the government and make the food supply scarce, thus enacting stringent cannibalistic laws to further their own feeding agenda. Wyatt wasn't one for stories such as these, exactly, but he loved hearing her passion about it. This was often their routine when Wyatt's parents had their date nights; Amelia would sneak in and they would just hang out in his bedroom and talk. But the dream always ends the same. A different way than the reality had.

A way that, quite frankly, was making Wyatt start to feel uncomfortable.

Wyatt would wake up sweating, breathing heavily, his throat feeling tight. He would climb clumsily out of bed and go for the bathroom, filling up a glass of water that he kept in there specifically for that. He would drink from it, then walk back into the bedroom, and that's when he'd notice the lights on outside. As if his dream wasn't rough enough, these lights had become a regular thing as well. He couldn't tell where they were coming from or what they belonged to, because as soon as he approached the window to get a better look, they shut off, and it was too dark outside to see anything. Was someone watching him? Someone involved with the law, perhaps? The whole ordeal, dream and all, kept him so unnerved that he often had trouble going back to sleep.

Which wasn't great because sleep was one of the few places he felt alright lately, even in spite of the dream.

                                                                                                       ***

"Are you aware that you have an enormous snowglobe collection?" Rachel asked as she stood in Kelly's room, looking at her bookshelf.

"How would I not be aware?" Kelly responded, not looking up from her book as she laid in bed.

"Just wanted to make sure you knew you were lame is all," Rachel replied, making Kelly laugh.

It had been two weeks since Kelly had gotten back into living in her parents, back in her old bedroom, and in that brief span of time, she'd become incredibly bored. She contemplated many hobbies to fill the slow passage of time; knitting, origami, whatever she could easily do from bed with her hands, but none of it really appealed to her. Not until she'd started reading about horses again. When they were little girls, Rachel and Kelly had loved horses - it had been one of the things that brought them together as friends to begin with - and together they'd taken riding lessons, for a bit anyway, until Rachel stopped. Growing up, they'd read a series of easy to read chapter books together called "Frontier Girls", about a group of young teen girls who end up solving crimes in the west with the help of their horses. Kelly still had her entire collection, and this was what she'd been recently re-reading from bed. Rachel picked up one of the snowglobes and looked at it, scoffing.

"Arizona? Really? As if they get snow," Rachel said, setting it back down on the shelf before turning to look towards the bed and asking, "...aren't you bored to death in here?"

"Kinda," Kelly said, shrugging, "that's why I started reading again."

As soon as Rachels eyes landed on the cover of the book, her blood ran cold. She'd put up with seeing Wyatt's pony, but the idea of horses still made her feel sick as a dog. She could feel herself start to hyperventilate, and quickly excused herself from the room, rushing to the bathroom across the hall and shutting the door tightly behind her. Leaning against the sink, she tried to get herself to calm down. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and she sighed. One day...one day she would have to face her issues with horses, but that day wasn't today.

                                                                                                         ***

"Could just be neighbors kids, screwing around," Scarlett said as she poured Wyatt some coffee.

"Could be, but I doubt it," he said, lifting the mug to his lips and sipping, "it's way too...consistent. Nobodys kid is that regularly timed. Anyway the whole thing is freaking me out."

"Could also be someones alert lights," Scarlett continued, seating herself now, "you know, like those flood lights people attach to their homes with motion detectors, and it's just happening to see something and turning on and off at the same time each night. Though, again, that's really coincidental I guess."

"I'm glad you acknowledged that so I didn't have to," Wyatt remarked, the both of them chuckling. They sat in silence together, the kids already at school and daycare, enjoying this morning to themselves for a change. It wasn't often Scarlett and Wyatt got alone time like this, and lately, that had been Wyatt's fault more than anyone else's. He sighed and set his mug back down, running his hands over his face.

"Anything else wrong?" Scarlett asked.

"Do you remember Calvin Klepper's sister?" Wyatt asked.

"...yeah, actually I do," Scarlett replied, chewing on her lip for a moment as she thought, "she was that girl who wrote about werewolves, right? She had that frizzy hair and those big front teeth, real dorky lookin'. I mean, she seemed nice enough, just, ya know. Total nerd."

"Right," Wyatt said, "I've been having this dream about her lately."

"Ooh, are you sure you want your wife to hear about this? She might get jealous," Scarlett said, playfully smirking.

"Nah, she's too level headed for jealousy honestly," Wyatt replied, making her smile as he added, "besides it isn't like, a sex dream, or anything. She's just in my dream. I knew her back in high school, before I met you obviously. I don't know why, out of the blue, I'm dreaming about her."

"Our brains categorize stuff weirdly and then use it in dreams, it's all random," Scarlett said, picking up her jam covered toast and taking a bite, speaking as she chewed, "it probably doesn't mean a thing, so don't worry too much about it. However, if you two start doing the nasty in the dream, tell me, because that's hot."

"Oh you like the idea of me with other women?" Wyatt asked, laughing as he stood up and fixed his tie, preparing to head to work.

"Baby, I think I might be into cucking," Scarlett said, making him throw his head back and laugh loudly. He walked around the side of the table, kissed her on the top of the head and then again on the lips, and, grabbing his briefcase from his chair, left to his car. He could never tell her he'd dated Amelia Klepper, she wouldn't understand. She wouldn't be mad or jealous or anything, she just...wouldn't understand. Nobody really did, in all honesty, even the few people, like Calvin, who'd known while it was happening.

Wyatt drove to the office, but not before stopping off and getting a box of donuts. Lately he'd been bringing in a box for all the employees to share, and it had made him a more popular boss than he'd already been. One of the reasonings was the fact that he knew his own father would never treat his employees to things like this, and he refused to be that man. Wyatt exited the donut shop, large pink box tucked under his arm and a bear claw hanging from his mouth, when he heard someone approach him from behind. He turned, assuming he'd forgotten something in the shop, only to find himself face to face with a woman who seemed vaguely familiar.

"...can I help you?" Wyatt asked.

"You've already helped so much," Angie said, "do you remember me?"

"...not particularly, no," Wyatt said, continuing towards his car, Angie hot on his heels, eager like an excited child.

"You...you convinced me to leave The Evergreens, to not get on the plane and go to the convention," Angie said, and this made Wyatt stop, hand on his door handle. He slowly turned towards her, setting the donut box on the roof of his car and chewing his lip anxiously.

"...right, yeah, I DO remember you," he said, "I guess you saw the crash."

"I did indeed," Angie said, "you saved me from that. If you hadn't talked me out of it, I would've been on that plane, I would've died like the rest of them. But because of you, your words, I'm here today, and I'm so very grateful for that."

"Well, I'm glad to be of service," Wyatt said, unlocking his car and setting the donut box down on the passenger seat now, "but I really have to get to work, so I'm glad you're doing alright, glad you weren't on there and-"

"Wyatt," Angie said, taking him by surprise by knowing his name, "let me help you with anything I can. I owe it to you."

Wyatt, now starting to feel uncomfortable, politely declined and thanked her before climbing into the drivers side of the car and starting it, before pulling out of his parking space and tearing away, leaving Angie feeling very unsatisfied. Standing there, watching him speed him, she folded her arms and grimaced. Somehow, someway, she would find a way to serve him, and repay the debt for saving her life. Wyatt didn't know it just yet, but there was an out of control train coming directly at him...and its name was Angie Dickenson.

                                                                                                        ***

"I just...I lost  it," Rachel said.

She was leaning against Calvin's workbench in the shed, as he sat on a stool and drank from his soda can, listening to her as she talked. Rachel nervously reached up to her face and pushed her hair from her face, exhaling slowly.

"I had to leave suddenly, and I'm sure that didn't make Kelly feel very good," Rachel said, "but I just...I couldn't be around anything horse related. I felt like I was going to throw up."

"Are you feeling okay now?" Calvin asked, and she shrugged.

"Who knows, dude," she said, "I can't tell anymore. Feels like the only emotion I can accurately feel is fear, and know I'm feeling it. Which, now that I've said that out loud, is very very sad. I get that she's probably dealing with a lot of stuff, nostalgia and regression cause of what happened, like, that shit would make you view your whole life from a new lens, I get it, but I just can't be around anything like that."

"Why is that?" Calvin asked, and Rachel opened her mouth, then looked at Calvin, and shut her mouth again.

She couldn't tell him. She couldn't tell anyone. She looked away, her eyes veering back to the floor of the shed and Calvin just shrugged it off, continuing to drink from his soda. Rachel reached into the bag of chips on the table, grabbing a handful and shoving them in her mouth, chewing noisily. Nobody would ever understand, hell, not even her own folks really managed to grasp it. So far it was just the paranoia creeping back in, not the hallucinations, so that was a plus at least.

"Well," Calvin said, finishing his drink and crushing the can, tossing it into a nearby trashcan before continuing, "just get her into a different hobby. A different animal at least."

"You don't know Kelly the way I do," Rachel said, "she's obsessed with horses. I don't think anyone could ever persuade her to like anything else even a quarter as much."

A moment of awkward silence passed through the shed and Rachel sighed, rubbing her eyes.

"I need to go home," she said, heading for the door, "I need to see Sun."

Calvin was, admittedly, a bit sad he couldn't be more helpful, but he let her go nonetheless. After all, he had once known what it was like to have a woman who could manage to quash all your fears, and he wouldn't keep that from anyone else.

                                                                                                           ***

"It was creepy," Wyatt said, shoving the end of a donut into his mouth, "like, genuinely horror movie level creepy."

Celia snickered from the opposite side of the desk. Lately, she'd been coming and spending her lunch hour with Wyatt; some days that meant going to lunch, some days that meant sitting in his office. Today, he'd saved her a donut or two, and she'd brought her own lunch from a Korean restaurant down the street to share with him. He picked up his fork and started to dig into the food she'd brought, as she sipped from her drink.

"Well," she said, "maybe she's just an overzealous fan of being alive. I mean, you did stop her from getting on that plane. She could feel eternally grateful. I can't imagine what it must be like, to so narrowly avoid certain death by such a slim margin. That would change a person."

"Sure, and I get that," Wyatt said, lifting his food to his lips, "but why's she gotta make sure I know it? To be honest, I forgot about her. Once she started talking I remembered talking to her before, obviously, but she seemed way too familiar with me, talking at me like we were old buddies. It was...unnerving."

Celia put her food container back down on the desk and wiped her mouth with her napkin.

"So, what, you think she's stalking you or something?" Celia asked, and Wyatt instantly stopped digging around in his food container and looked up towards her, his eyes widening.

"You don't think she is, do you?" he replied quietly.

"Dude, you're so paranoid," Celia responded, "you need a vacation or something. Sure, the Evergreens were full of misguided whackjobs, but I hardly think that qualifies any of them to be serial killers or stalkers. They were just nature nuts."

"Nature nuts who worshipped the wrong man for wrongfully blowing up another man," Wyatt said, pointing at her with his plastic fork, "don't forget that part. What if, now, instead of worshipping Brighton, she's worshipping me? You said it yourself, I saved her from getting on that thing, I could be seen as a divine intervening force."

"Wow, someone thinks highly of themselves," Celia said, smirking, "Wyatt, I'm sure she just feels grateful. I'm sure it's nothing more, alright? Seriously, you need to learn to relax. Go to the beach or something."

Wyatt slumped back into his chair and nodded solemnly. Celia was probably right. She usually was. She was, after all, the most level headed person amongst them, so why wouldn't she be, and she spoke with such certainty that he had a hard time doubting her assuredness. But something about Angie made Wyatt uneasy, and he didn't know what to do or feel about it. He simply couldn't shake the thought that this girl wasn't just a danger to herself, but also to everyone else, especially him.

Maybe he should've let her get on the plane.

                                                                                                         ***

Rachel was lying on the couch when Sun Rai came in through the front door of the apartment. She stopped after shutting the door behind her and looked at Rachel, before hanging her purse and coat on the rack by the door. Sun Rai slowly approached the couch and sat down, Rachel lifting her head up and laying it back down on Sun's lap once she was seated. Sun began to slowly sift her fingers through Rachel's hair, and Rachel shut her eyes.

"You wouldn't hate me for being sick, right?" Rachel asked.

"I don't hate my father," Sun Rai replied, "I spend hours every day over at my parents just helping my mom because of it. I hate him for other reasons, but not for that. Not for something he can't control."

"But there's differing levels of illness," Rachel said, on the verge of tears.

"What, and they deserve varying degrees of response?" Sun Rai asked, "that's ridiculous. Illness is illness, albeit mental or physical. Hell, if anything, I think people who ask for help with mental illnesses are far stronger. That's something you often have a choice in. If you get a terminal illness, you don't have really any choices in the matter of getting better. It's already decided for you. So many physical health ailments are already unable to be altered or fixed. But if you fight every single day in your own mind and STILL want help? That's strength."

Rachel wanted to talk about it. She'd never spoken openly to anyone except her folks about the things she saw. The THING she saw. One thing. The thing that followed her, haunted her. Terrified her like nothing else. But she also knew the ramifications of opening oneself up to another person, and the judgement that came along with that, regardless of their promise not to judge. She knew better than to ask for help or understanding.

"...I think I need help," Rachel said softly, and Sun leaned down, planting her lips on Rachel's head.

"Then we'll get you help," she whispered, "whatever you need, I'll help you achieve it."

Rachel didn't want help, but she needed it at this point. This was something she could no longer ignore. She had started seeing the See Through Horse again with such regularity that it was concerning. Later that night, after they'd fallen asleep on the couch watching TV, Rachel awoke to use the bathroom. As she entered and turned the light on, she saw a shadow behind the shower curtain in the bathroom mirror, and she stopped breathing for a moment. The shadow...it was that of the horse. She slowly turned, reached for the curtain and pulled it back, only to reveal, as usual, absolutely nothing.

Rachel didn't get much sleep that night.

                                                                                                      ***

Wyatt pulled into the driveway of his home and parked, exhaling. Scarlett was home, the kids would be up, and he looked forward to spending some time together with his family. Forgetting about all the shit he was knee deep in. He turned to open his drivers side door when he saw Angie's face at the window and screamed shrilly, jumping in his seat. Atfer a moment of catching his breath, Angie laughing outside the car, he opened the door and stepped out.

"Don't do that!" he said, hand to his chest.

"You scream like a little girl," she continued laughing, doubled over, hands on her knees.

"I do not," Wyatt said, "I scream like a manly man doing manly things, like...like lumberjacking or...car bombing. What...what are you even doing here? How do you know where I live?"

"I know so much about you, Wyatt Bloom," Angie said, standing back upright, approaching, pushing him up against his car as she continued, "I know everything. You can't blindly worship someone without knowledge of their identity. I know you have two children, a wife, and I know where you work. I know your fathers name. I know you used to be the star of your high school baseball team. I just want to help you the way you helped me."

"Well, that's...creepy and appreciated, somehow simultaneously, but I don't really need any help right now," Wyatt said, "but thanks for asking. If I ever do, you'll be the first to know, promise."

"Wyatt," Angie said, grabbing his wrist tightly, "I'm standing by."

The front porch light turned on, and Angie took off like a shot in the dark, vanishing down the street. The door opened and Scarlett was standing there, waving at him. He waved back, smiling, telling her he'd be inside in a minute. As she shut the door, Wyatt pulled out his cell phone and dialed Celia.

"Yeah, hi, it's me," he said, "we've got a big problem."

"Are your parents gonna be okay with us bringing all this stuff back with you?" Rachel asked as she and Sun Rai helped Kelly pack. Her time in the hospital was over, and she was being released to her parents care until such time she could return to her own life. Kelly, turning around in her wheelchair, shrugged.

"I mean, places you stay in expect you to take stuff, right?" she asked.

"Yeah, like hotels, not hospitals," Rachel remarked.

"Hey, I don't think anyone else is gonna wanna use my colostomy bag, okay?" Kelly replied, the both of them laughing as Sun Rai picked up yet another suitcase and carried it out into the hall and towards the parking lot. Rachel walked around behind Kelly and, gripping the handles of the wheelchair, started to push her out of the room.

"You gonna miss being here?" Rachel asked, "Being waited on hand and foot?"

"Well, you know my mom, she was always the doting type, so I'll likely be given the same treatment there," Kelly said.

"You're right, I remember when I would spend the night at your house and she would order whatever we wanted, and then bring it to us in your room on plates, with drinks and everything," Rachel said, chuckling, "your mom is pretty damn great."

All things considered, being a plane crash had been a boon to Kelly. She'd gotten her best friend back, her family was going to take care of her, she was on paid vacation while insurance covered her medical costs and, probably best of all, she didn't die from it. She really was one lucky girl.

                                                                                                         ***

Calvin opened his eyes and groaned.

He'd been sleeping even worse than before, somehow. He didn't think that was possible, but it turned out it was. He dragged himself out of bed and into the upstairs hall bathroom where he washed his face and combed his hair before heading downstairs in a pair of shorts a t-shirt, only to find, of all people, Wyatt sitting at the kitchen table, eating breakfast with his parents. Barry looked up upon Calvin's entrance and grinned, motioning for him to join them. Calvin slunk into the kitchen, feeling increasingly paranoid, as he seated himself at the table. His mother poured him some coffee and then got him some of the breakfast she'd made for everyone else, before seating herself once again.

"What are you doing here?" Calvin asked as he used his fork to scoop scrambled eggs and lift it to his mouth.

"Just having breakfast," Wyatt replied gleefully, "just wanted to hang out today, so I figured the best option was uninvited, cause it doesn't really give you a chance to say no."

Calvin murmured under his breath as he continued to eat breakfast, watching Wyatt talk with his parents. Calvin felt sick to his stomach the entire time, and not from his moms cooking, wishing Wyatt hadn't invaded his personal space like this. It was one thing to come to The Shed or come around when his folks weren't here, but to put himself smack dab in the middle of their home life, that was...invasive. Then again, he didn't have a leg to stand on, defense wise...lord knew Calvin himself had interjected in plenty of moments he didn't belong. Karma really was a bitch.

After breakfast, Wyatt and Calvin got into Wyatt's car, and together, they drove away from the house and, slowly, away from the town. As they got further and further out into the surrounding nothing, Calvin fiddled with the radio dials, looking for anything to ease the painful silence that had filled the car around them. After a bit, they were out on the long, winding roads that would eventually lead to ranches and their ilk. Calvin sighed and rested his chin on his fist as he glanced out the window.

"I was having lunch the other day," Wyatt said, "started thinking about your sister. How's she doing?"

"Why would you care now?" Calvin asked.

"Maybe because it's not hard to learn empathy once you become associated with so many people in such a scary situation, in which any of them could easily get hurt," Wyatt remarked, shrugging his shoulders, "just a guess though."

Calvin didn't answer for a bit, then he sighed and spoke.

"She's alright," Calvin said, "she spent some time in a hospital for her mental health, voluntarily of course, and now she's out again and she's doing writing again. Been submitting stuff. Been sending some to me to ask for my opinions."

"She still writing about werewolves?" Wyatt asked, smirking, making Calvin laugh.

"Yeah, yes she is," Calvin replied, "We try to ignore that fact when we tell people what she does because, well, let's face it, it's a bit embarrassing."

"I mean, she has an interest and god bless her for sticking to it," Wyatt said, "got far more committment than most people probably."

Calvin smiled, nodding. He was protective of his sister, and he knew how badly Wyatt had hurt her emotionally, but it was nice that Wyatt still thought about her from time to time. He thought that, maybe, deep down Wyatt felt bad about how things had ended, and that in his own warped way he did still care about her in some capacity. Truthfully, Wyatt did, but that wasn't why he was here. He was here to ensure that Calvin understood he could never screw up the way he had before again, and if that meant getting him to trust him by discussing his family, he'd do that. Wyatt didn't like how suave he'd become at extortion, but dammit. Someone had to keep Calvin on a leash.

                                                                                                         ***

"You have a really cool bedroom," Sun Rai said as she set down the last suitcase in Kelly's room.

Kelly's room was, indeed, pretty cool. It had a slanted ceiling, and a large circular window at the end so she could see out over the street. It also hadn't really been touched since she'd moved out and into her own place, thanks to her parents always hoping she'd move back home (they were sentimental, not disbelieving in her abilities), which meant that how it had been when she was in school was still exactly how it was, band posters and all. Rachel sighed and sat down on the bed, catching her breath.

"It's one flight of eight stairs," Sun Rai said, looking at her, shaking her head and laughing, "you're so out of shape."

"As long as I look hot what do I care about my physical capabilities?" Rachel asked as Kelly wheeled herself to her desk.

"All my scrapbooking stuff is still here," Kelly said, "maybe I can take that up again. That's definitely a 'sit in one place for hours and do nothing' kind of activity. Maybe you guys could come over and help some nights. It'd be nice to have company that isn't my parents. Don't get me wrong, they're great, I love them, but, ya know, they're my parents."

Rachel and Sun Rai both laughed, which made Kelly feel more accepted.

"Sadly," Sun Rai said, "I'm dealing with a lot right now with my fathers health, so that isn't so much an option for me, but if I have the time I'll definitely do it. Rachel, however, you just have work so you should be free more often right?"

"Yeah, I could totally come hang out," Rachel said, sitting upright again, "that'd be a lot of fun. We could order a pizza and play old music from high school and do lots of scrapbooking."

"You two were total nerds weren't you?" Sun Rai asked, laughing, "no wonder you were best friends."

Rachel and Kelly exchanged a look and smiled at one another, both chuckling. In hindsight, it wasn't surprising in the slightest. While Rachel had always been the more socially acceptable and outgoing of the two - and even then not by much - they had both, yes, been pretty dorky and reserved and found solace in one another, even well before high school. Even though she would never openly admit it, because she hated being seen as weak, the split, which had been instigated by Rachel, had hurt her so much more than she'd ever let on. To lose the one real friend you'd always had...hell, it wasn't until Calvin and Wyatt that she felt like she had that sort of thing again, but even now, they didn't compare to Kelly.

"We're still best friends," Rachel said, making Kelly blush as she added, "that's why we made friendship bracelets."

"Oh my god, do you still have yours?!" Kelly asked loudly, cackling and Rachel held up her right wrist.

"Always have, always will," Rachel said, all three of them laughing.

                                                                                                       ***

Calvin and Wyatt had stopped to get gas.

While Wyatt filled the car up, Calvin came back from the interior of the gas station, opening up his wrapped in foil gas station burrito and biting into it. Wyatt finished the deed, paid at the machine and together they got back into the car. Wyatt put the keys into the ignition and started the car up, pulling away again, back onto the road to nowhere in particular.

"For what it's worth," Wyatt said, "I never felt good about how it ended. I take full responsibility, as I should. She deserved better. But my dad, man. He was...is....an overbearing son of a bitch who can make a person feel bad about something they shouldn't feel bad about. Don't get me wrong, I love my wife, I am happy with the family we have, but...your sister was a great partner and she taught me a lot."

"Yeah, well," Calvin said, taking another bite, "she's not interested in communicating with anyone anymore. She can see how easily she can be used and manipulated now, so she just figures what's the point."

"Jesus, I'm so sorry, I screwed up so bad," Wyatt said, "but I'm willing to take the blame, and learn from it, grow. You can't continue to make the same mistake repeatedly, claim you're changed from it and then go right back to doing it, you understand what I mean?"

Calvin's eyes slowly headed over to Wyatt, and he sighed.

"Alright," Calvin said, wrapping the rest of his burrito up and setting it in his lap, "come out and say it."

"You can't do what you did again," Wyatt said sternly.

"You don't think I'm aware of that?" Calvin asked.

"At some point, someone is going to open an investigation into what happened, and it might very well lead to us. That's something we're going to have to deal with, but even still, Calvin, you can't do anything like that again. I know you were pissed at Wattson, I get it, and hell, he and even the Evergreens kind of deserved it, but...we can't continue down this path. We need to course correct."

Calvin sighed again and rubbed his chin, his somewhat beared face, and then looked out the window.

"You know what Amelia did after you dumped her?" Calvin asked, "she spent weeks crying in her room, refusing to go to school again. Finally, our parents, not knowing how to handle it, asked me to go in and see what I could do about it, and when I talked to her about it, you wanna know what she asked me? She asked me what it was about her that made people hurt her the way they did. Was she naive, too trusting, just plain stupid? I couldn't give her an answer. But you weren't the first person to hurt her. She had people pretend to be her friend to use her class, people feign romantic  interest in her simply to humiliate her, so while you were genuine in your interest in her, you were the straw that broke the camels back."

Wyatt felt his eyes water up, and he wanted to cry. He didn't want to be responsible for a woman losing all her self worth.

"But," Calvin said, "I just told her that nothing was wrong with her, when, in reality, that's not the truth. I lied to her though, because that seemed the best course of action. Why let her feel even worse when she was already at her lowest? Truth be told, yeah, there was something wrong with her. She was too naive. Too trusting. Too desperate. She's sick. She's extremely sick in the head. But I wasn't about to lay blame for others actions at her feet, even if she was somewhat responsible at times. So I did what any big brother would do. I covered it up. I made it the fault of others, because it was mostly the fault of others. You weren't the worst person she dealt with Wyatt, but you hurt the worst because of your genuinness, and I don't think she'll ever get over that. So sure, I've made mistakes, things I can't take back, but if I can't keep making the same mistake, neither can you."

Wyatt pulled the car over to the side of the road and buried his face in his arms on the steering wheel, sobbing.

"We both have to be better," Calvin said, as he reached out and put his hand on Wyatt's shoulder, comforting him.

Even above Scarlett, Rachel, Kelly, anyone else, the one person he'd never wanted to hurt was Amelia simply because he knew how fragile and delicate she had been. And yet he had. He'd not only hurt her, hell, he'd outright broken her. Calvin might forgive him, but could he ever forgive himself?

"Let's both try harder," Calvin said, and Wyatt nodded.

"I like that arrangement," Wyatt said softly.

                                                                                                         ***

Sun Rai panted, breathing heavily as Rachel kissed down her neck.

After having dinner at Kelly's, they made their way back to the apartment, and for some reason, Rachel couldn't get the idea of sex of her mind. Maybe she just needed the release, but she took Sun Rai to the bedroom immediately upon getting into the apartment.

"You're doing such a good thing," Sun Rai said as Rachel kissed down to her collarbone, unbuttoning her shirt, "because most people would just turn tail and run, not help their friend like this. People like to act like they'll be there no matter what for someone, but truth is, most people know talk is cheap."

"Yeah, well," Rachel said, kissing Sun Rai's now bare shoulders, "I do what I can for those that need it."

After the sex, Sun Rai was asleep, but Rachel couldn't sleep. All she could think about was Kelly, sitting alone in her bedroom. Rachel climbed out of bed, headed into the living room and grabbed the cordless phone, dialing Kelly's house number. Surprisingly, Kelly picked up, and Rachel remembered the old cheeseburger phone she had in her bedroom.

"I didn't think you would be up," Rachel said, "I thought maybe you'd fall asleep early, cause, ya know, it's exhausting moving somewhere."

"Well, to be fair, I didn't do much of the manual labor," Kelly remarked, the both of them laughing. Rache lounged on her couch and lit a cigarette, taking a puff.

"So what are you doing?" Rachel asked.

"Nothin' really," Kelly said, "there's a really bad horror movie on Channel 48."

Rachel grabbed her remote and turned the TV on, then flipped to that channel. Together they sat and watched, ridiculing it over the phone, just like they used to when they were teenagers. It was so easy, Rachel realized, so surprisingly easy actually, to fall right back into that same relationship you once had with someone if you really cared about one another. In spite of what had happened, even in spite of the recent events, Rachel had always cared deeply for Kelly, almost like a sister, and Kelly felt the same. Rachel thought about her time with Wyatt's family having dinner, being friends with Scarlett through their art appreciation, her love with Sun Rai, and now her rekindled friendship with Kelly, falling right back into the same reporte that they'd always had and she realized that, even without her parents, she had a family of sorts, and that counted for something.

They made fun of the movie well into the early morning, and it was the best either girl had felt in months.