Kelly Schuester had only been on a plane a few times in her life, but the first time was certainly the most memorable. She was 11 years old, and she was standing in the airport near the window in the boarding area with Rachel by her side, both girls eating licorice out of one bag. It was summer vacation, and the girls were going with Kelly's parents to another state where they would be visiting a famous theme park. Both girls were extremely giddy, having never been out of state before, nor to a real theme park. They'd of course been to local carnivals and such, but nothing on this grand a scale.

"Dad?" Kelly asked as he looked up from his book and over at them; she continued, "do planes crash a lot?"

"No, I think it's pretty rare," her father, Allen, replied, sliding his bookmark in between the pages and getting up, walking to the girls and putting his hands on Kelly's shoulders, continuing, "I mean, it happens, but your chances of being involved in a life threatening crash I think are rather slim. Either way, if it happens, just shut your eyes. That way you're giving in instead of accepting it against your will."

"Jesus Allen, don't tell them that," Kelly's mother, Carol, said as she came back with a styrofoam cup of coffee, sipping gingerly from the lid as it was piping hot, adding, "that's way too grim for little girls."

"We're not little, we're almost teenagers," Rachel said.

Carol smiled and patted Rachel on the head, before taking Allen back to the chairs and sat back down, Allen going back to his book as Carol drank her coffee and relaxed. Their flight wouldn't board for another hour at least, so the girls had a while to be excited about their first plane ride. As they stood there, Rachel took Kelly by the hand and squeezed tightly, making Kelly laugh.

"Don't worry, if one of us is ever in a plane crash, we'll be there for eachother," Rachel said, smiling, and Kelly nodded.

And lo and behold, she would hold Rachel to that promise 20 years later.

                                                                                                             ***

Wyatt was pacing in the hallway on the first floor of his house, his fingers digging through his hair, his lips quivering. Kelly. Kelly. Kelly was on the plane. Jesus hell what was he going to do. What could he do, realistically? It wasn't like you could get a bomb squad to a flying plane, after all. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder and screamed as he turned to see Rachel standing there, who also screamed in response and jumped back a little.

"Sorry!" she shouted, putting her hands up, "Sorry, but...are you-"

"No I'm very much not okay. How are YOU so calm? She's your best friend!" Wyatt said, leaning against the wall and groaning, shutting his eyes, "...fuck, I'm getting a migraine."

"You need to calm down," Rachel said, approaching and rubbing his back.

"How am I supposed to calm down? He's fucked us, you do realize that, right? This moral crusade he's taken up has now fucked us royally. There's no coming back from this, Rachel. They're going to look into this. You blow up one guy and somehow get away with it that's luck. Shit happens. But you blow up a plane? There's no walking away from that. He's no better than Leonard or Oliver or anyone else who hurt others now. He's on the same level."

"That's not fair, there's tiers to monstrous behavior," Rachel said, massaging Wyatt's shoulders, "but you're not wrong, he's screwed us pretty good..."

Wyatt pushed her off him gently and turned around, resting against the wall as she did the same on the opposite wall, both of them looking at one another. Wyatt took a long deep breath and shook his head.

"A few weeks ago," he said, "Celia asked me what do we do if he loses it. She said he'd already blown a single man up, so what happens when he does something worse. How do we deal with him. That we need some kind of contingency plan. I should've listened. I was stupid. I told her I didn't see it happening, and now here we are. She was right."

"So...what's the plan?" Rachel asked, folding her arms.

"...I don't know," Wyatt said, chewing his lip and looking at the floor, exhaling, "...but I think...there might come a time when he needs to not be here anymore."

                                                                                                         ***

Kelly woke from the turbulence and looked around. She must've dozed off for a bit, because she forgot where she was for a moment. She pulled her headphones down and let them hang around her neck as she looked at Leonard, who appeared very nervous. She tapped him on the arm and he very anxious glanced towards her, his fingers gripping the armrests tightly.

"What's going on?" she asked, still clearly woozy.

"Something in the cargo exploded, they think it's a bomb," Leonard said, "...we might...we might be going down."

Kelly felt the pit of her stomach drop further somehow, as she leaned back against her seat. How was this happening? Had her father been wrong? People don't normally die in plane crashes, they're rare, aren't they? A million thoughts raced through her mind, and then she felt herself feel queasy. Leonard noticed and quickly grabbed the barf bag from beneath her chair and handed it to her, which she graciously took and vomited into. How ironic, she thought as she spewed, a weather girl dying in the clouds.

                                                                                                            ***

Wyatt and Rachel were now in the kitchen as Wyatt uncapped some beers. Rachel was sitting at the kitchen island, the TV in the living room still going loudly as Celia and Calvin were sitting there watching. Wyatt stood on the opposite side of the island as he slid Rachel's beer across the tabletop to her before lifting his own to his lips and taking a long swig. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and sighed.

"...this doesn't feel real," Wyatt mumbled.

"Did it feel real before?" Rachel asked, and he looked at her, furrowing his brow as she sipped her beer then added, "you know, with Grudin? When you and Calvin were in the car, did that feel real?"

"...I tried to stop it," Wyatt whispered, and Rachel's eyes widened. She sat up straighter.

"What? You never said that," she said.

"Yeah. Yeah, we...were in the car and...and Grudin came out and I just...I couldn't do it. We fought over the control, I tried to stop him, but I pressed it by accident and the rest, as they say, is history. But it makes me sick thinking about it. I blew a man up. My wife knows nothing. My daughter thinks I'm the best daddy in the world. I'm stuck between two entirely different worlds, and I don't know how to manage either one."

"I know what you mean, I feel the same way. Everything I tell Sun is a lie, and I fear one day she'll learn that and she'll leave and...I can't...I can't lose her," Rachel said, on the verge of tears as Wyatt reached across the table and took her hand, holding it tightly.

"Whatever happens, you and me will find a way out of this, alright? Fuck Calvin. He's on his own now. We can't defend him anymore. But you and Celia and I, we'll manage, and we'll get out of this just fine. I'll make sure of it. So long as we stick together. We need to be a unit from now on, okay? So long as we do that, we'll be a-okay."

Rachel nodded, smiling, wiping her eyes with her other arm.

"You know," Rachel said as Wyatt let go of her hand, "in high school, the few times we interacted, I always thought you were kind of a pompous ass."

"And now?" Wyatt asked.

"Well, you still are, but there are definitely multitudes," Rachel said, the both of them laughing and clinking their beers together gently. Anything to lighten the mood was worth it right now. Rachel excused herself and headed back to the living room to see the news, as Wyatt stayed behind and looked around his kitchen. What had he done? How had things spiraled this far out of control? He was a murderer, now an unwilling accomplice to a potential terrorist, and he put his family in direct jeopardy with the law. Celia was right. He needed a contingency plan. Calvin needed to be dealt with somehow. Only then...

...only then would they be safe.

And then his cell, sitting on the countertop, rang.

                                                                                                       ***

Leonard couldn't believe this was how it would all end.

After all that'd happened, after Oliver's death and his feud with Calvin, after all the time and effort he'd put into helping build this smut empire, he was going to be taken out by a pure random chance situation? Seemed almost comical. Maybe this was what people meant, he thought, when they spoke of karma. Maybe it existed after all. Leonard had to write a note. Something for someone who would be there to collect his things, whatever were left anyway. He reached under his chair and pulled his bag out, opening the flap and digging around for a pen and a notepad.

Meanwhile, Kelly Schuester had never used an airplane phone before, and she couldn't believe it was the last thing she'd do before dying. She dialed quickly, with reckless abandon, hoping that the numbers she put in would actually connect to the number she'd hoped to reach. It rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Then, during the fourth ring, it finally picked up, and Kelly felt an immense sense of relief, despite facing her seemingly impending demise.

"I didn't know who else to call," she managed to squeak out, tears welling in her eyes, "I didn't...this is the only number I could think of."

"It's okay, you're okay," Wyatt responded.

"Where are you?"

"In the kitchen, the TV is super loud," Wyatt said, "everyone screaming over one another. Kelly, just breath, okay? Just breath and everything will be okay."

"I'm on a crashing plane, how will everything be okay?" Kelly asked, fighting back tears, "Wyatt, just...tell Rachel she's my best friend no matter what, okay? And...and that...and tell my parents, you can find them in the phonebook, tell them that I love them so much, please, and-"

"Kelly, you're not going to die, okay?!" Wyatt shouted, "You're gonna be just fine!"

"I can see the ground," Kelly said, "I can-"

The phone went dead. The line clicked endlessly. Wyatt stood in the kitchen, staring at his cell, before he turned and threw his phone across the room and watched it shatter on the wall just as Calvin entered the room and their eyes met. Wyatt approached him and grabbed him by his collar, lifting him up a bit, his eyes burning with hatred.

"What did you do?" Wyatt asked through gritted teeth.

"I did what someone had to do," Calvin responded meekly, "what nobody else would."

"You just murdered god knows how many innocent people!" Wyatt shouted.

"How many of them were innocent, Wyatt?! Most of the people on the plane belonged to The Evergreens, those pseudo environmentalist lunatics launching a crusade in the name of a misguided savior! The only person really innocent was Kelly, and...and I'm sorry but...you made my sister go away, so maybe now we're even."

Wyatt couldn't take it, he balled his hand into a fist and punched Calvin in the jaw, just as Rachel and Celia pulled the men apart. As Rachel dragged Wyatt away, he was still kicking wildly, his eyes burning at Calvin, who was now doubled over, massaging his jaw as Celia grabbed him an icepack from the nearby freezer.

"I'm going to kill you!" Wyatt screamed, "I'm going to kill you, Calvin! You son of a bitch!"

"Guys, now is NOT the time!" Celia shouted, "Everyone just chill out!"

But there was no chilling. This was the end of whatever partnership Wyatt and Calvin had forged up until this point, and there was no going back anymore. All that was left, really, was to find a way to dissolve it. Calvin felt bad, but he also felt he'd done the right thing. He'd taken out not just a monster, but people who worshipped a monster. He'd saved however many other kids from being hurt, at least for the time being, and stopped those Evergreen idiots from spreading their beliefs surrounding their martyr Oliver Brighton. He felt bad about Kelly, and the other few innocents on the plane, sure...but he was certain he'd done the right thing.

Wyatt, however, had never hated someone more than Calvin at this exact moment. Wyatt had dealt with his sister in school, but he'd only interacted with Calvin a number of times, and he's always found him weird but nice enough. But now? Now Wyatt saw Calvin for what he truly was. A dangerous man, willing to do dangerous things to take out who he considered more dangerous men, and Wyatt knew he had to do something to stop him, no matter the cost. If Calvin had put Kelly's life in peril, potentially killing her, who's to say he wouldn't do the same to Rachel next? No. Wyatt couldn't let anyone else fall prey to Calvin's intense misguided heroism, and he'd find a way to put a stop to him one way or another.

                                                                                                      ***

Angie Dickinson felt like she'd witnessed a miracle. A sign. Something that had shown her the light.

Sitting on the couch with her parents on either side of her, all of them glued to visually to the TV screen with the news of the plane crash flashing before them, she'd never felt such a sense of simultaneous relief and belief. She tapped her fingernails nervously on her glass and chewed on her bottom lip, thinking. After a moment she got up and headed into her bedroom upstairs. Once inside, she loaded up her desktop and looked up Wyatt's store, finding publicity photos of him. She printed out her favorite headshot and then, climbing onto her bedroom floor, glued it into her notebook, pulling the lid off a felt pen and writing beneath it:

"Hero"

Then she sat back upright against her bed and held the notebook up to her face, smiling. This man had saved her life, inadvertently so but regardless, and she intended to somehow pay him back. She didn't know how or when, but she'd find a way. The funny thing is, this was the last thing Wyatt needed. A fan club.

                                                                                                          ***

Right before the plane crashed, as Leonard scrambled to find some notepad paper to write on, screaming all around him and smoke filling the cabin, he finally felt his fingers reach around a spiraled notebook and tugged it free from his satchel. As he clicked the pen so he could write, and opened the notebook, he was surprised when something slid out of it and landed in his lap. He dropped the notebook and the pen and picked up the small folded piece of paper, then unfolded it and read the words. Having had Calvin work for him for a bit, and having been his teacher, the handwriting was unmistakable and immediately identifiable. He must've slipped it in when he'd gone to the bathroom that night he came over, Leonard thought. His eyes scanned the paper again and again, unable to truly believe what it was he saw. Calvin had written one single thing.

                                                       "You were a great teacher. And a terrible human being."

Leonard shut his eyes and exhaled as the plane approached the ground. Leonard laughed to himself weakly, reaching up and stroking his mustache.

"God damn son of a-" he mumbled.

And then everything went black.

Wyatt and Rachel were standing outside his shop, pulling down Evergreen flyers. Rachel stopped and pulled a cigarette from behind her ear, lit it, then leaned against the wall of the store and started smoking while Wyatt continued his seemingly fruitless endeavor. After a moment he too stopped and looked at her.

"What?" she asked.

"I really should just hire someone to do this," Wyatt said, "this is ridiculous. Every day it's been like this lately. Goddamned Evergreens. Glad they're going out of town for a bit. Give me some time to remember what life was like before they were around to make things annoying."

"Well I'll still be here, so you won't get a totally clean break from annoyance," Rachel said, smirking, making Wyatt chuckle as he stuffed more papers into the bucket he had by his feet; suddenly he heard Rachel say, "someone's coming up to us."

Wyatt turned and noticed it was the girl who had approached him the prior days in the parking lot. Angie, he remembered her name for some reason. Only this time she wasn't dressed in her typical Evergreen garb. This time she was just dressed in plain ordinary clothes. Wyatt and Rachel stood there, papers in Wyatt's hand, as they waited for Angie to speak. After a moment or two, she finally opened her mouth.

"You might not remember me-" she started.

"I do," Wyatt interrupted.

"-but I wanted to come by and thank you," she said, "um, I've left the Evergreens."

Wyatt felt like he'd been punched in the gut. What had he just heard? Seriously? Had this girl just told him that, because of what he'd said, she'd left the group and turned her life around? Wyatt stumbled a little, leaning against the wall beside Rachel now.

"They were talking about going to this convention, protesting things there, and I just...all I could remember were the things you said to me. About how he was a monster, regardless of his otherwise decent beliefs, and you're right. I can't pretend to be a good person when I'm associating with bad people doing bad things under the guise of them being good. That's gross. Also I have a fear or flying, so that certainly helped factor into my decision. Anyway I just...I wanted to come by and thank you personally, because...because what you said really did make a difference."

Wyatt blushed and nodded.

"Yeah, yeah sure, you're welcome. Anytime. I'm glad to hear you're out of there."

Angie smiled, shook his head and then turned and walked away. Wyatt glanced at Rachel as she took a long drag, then put a hand on his shoulder.

"You're an inspiration to women everywhere," she said, "the one guy who does genuinely nice things for girls without hoping they'll sleep with him. Truly a once in a lifetime specimen of your gender."

"...are you being sarcastic?" Wyatt finally asked, side eyeing her, "that sounds like sarcasm."

                                                                                                       ***

After cleaning up the shop, Wyatt rushed home to get it cleaned up a bit as well. Scarlett was doing yoga in the living room when he arrived, and after a brief kiss they each went back to their respective activities. After a bit of cleaning in the kitchen, and preparing a little snack platter, Wyatt stood in the kitchen and started to wash some of the dishes left on the sink when Scarlett entered, somewhat sweaty from her workout.

"Oooh, what a good husband I have, I've trained you well," she said, picking up a small finger sandwich from a plate on the table and eating it, adding, "what's all this for?"

"A friend of mine is coming over before she leaves town for a bit, so I just wanted to have a nice clean place to sit and talk, and ya know, have some snacks."

"That's so thoughtful of you," Scarlett said, mouth full of sandwich as she hugged him and then whispered in his ear after swallowing, "I'll be in the shower if you wanna join me."

As he watched Scarlett leave the room, he smiled, leaning on the counter. He sure had a great wife, and he couldn't imagine his life without her. Sure, things had been a tad rough and bumpy lately, but it was nothing they couldn't work through and weather together. Wyatt dried his hands on a dish towel, hung it on the stove handle, then headed to the stairs to go up and join her per her invitation when a knock came at the front door. He sighed, turned and headed back down the stairs, opening it to find a somewhat disheveled and exhausted Calvin standing on his porch.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, "Is everything okay?"

Calvin pushed his way into the house, past Wyatt and started pacing in circles in the foyer, scratching at his forehead.

"He's leaving. He's leaving today. I don't...I don't know how to stop him," Calvin said, "I went to his apartment to leave it there, but the place was already cleared out. He's going to go back home and he's going to get away with it. What do I do?"

"Leave what there?" Wyatt asked, front door still open behind him.

"The..." Calvin lowered his voice, "the bomb. I made another-"

"You made another bomb?!" Wyatt shouted, before realizing his wife was still in the house; hopefully the noise of the shower was loud enough to drown him out. He grabbed Calvin by the arm and tugged him out onto the front porch, shutting the door behind them; he turned and looked at him now, "You made another bomb? After we specifically said not to?"

"You told me to!" Calvin said loudly, "You told me to do it! You approached me weeks ago and asked me if we could! Don't act like this was entirely on me!"

"That was a hypothetical!" Wyatt replied, "Jesus christ, you need, like, a team of doctors to be watching you or something, because I am clearly not enough. Where is this bomb?"

"In my car," Calvin said.

"You brought it here?!" Wyatt asked, his voice rising, just as Kelly's car pulled up in front of the house. Calvin and Wyatt stopped and turned to watch her get out of the car and walk happily up the walk towards them. She put her arms around Wyatt and hugged him, Wyatt giving her a squeeze back, before she turned her attention to Calvin.

"Hello," she said.

"You're the local weather girl," Calvin said.

"Indeed I am," Kelly said, "actually, can I use your bathroom? I always get nervous before I fly and it makes me pee."

"Yeah, my wife is in the main one but I can show you to the other," Wyatt said, opening the door back up and letting her into the house before turning back to Calvin and saying, in a hushed voice, "get that goddamned thing out of here now, before you blow somebody else up, okay? We'll find a way to deal with Wattson, but this isn't the way to do it."

With that, Wyatt too disappeared into the house. Calvin sighed and walked back to his car and noticed, through the window of Kelly's car, that she had a few bags sitting on the backseat, and that atop those bags was a plane ticket. Calvin stopped and looked closer, cupping his hands around his eyes to get a better view as he inched towards the window. The very same plane Wattson was to board today. Calvin noticed her press pass, and knew she wouldn't have her bags checked. Calvin felt his breath catch in his chest, and he glanced back at his own car. Meanwhile, inside, Wyatt waited by the door until Kelly re-emerged from the bathroom.

"Whoo," she said, "thank you. I was about to need a change of underwear."

"That's...more information than I needed, thanks," Wyatt said, the two of them laughing as they headed back downstairs.

"So what was your friend doing here?" Kelly asked.

"He's having some kind of nervous breakdown, it's a whole thing," Wyatt said, "don't worry about him, he'll be fine. I made some sandwiches if you want something to eat before your trip."

Kelly blushed and nodded, following Wyatt into the kitchen. As they passed by the kitchen window, Wyatt glanced out and noticed Calvin's car was gone. He shook his head, sighing. He had no idea that a literal time bomb was ticking...poised to go off this very day.

                                                                                                        ***

Leonard Wattson sat on the seat in the boarding area, his bag at his feet, his book in his lap. He sighed and ran his hand up his face and under his glasses, rubbing his eyes. God...what a waste of time this had been. He'd come here and come away with nothing in the end except a former favorite students utter contempt. But he knew Calvin wouldn't do anything. He knew he'd never make good on his threats. He was meek, and he knew that he was safe from any kind of vengeance. Leonard didn't know what he was going to tell his higher ups, he had no idea how to even broach the topic, and was worried he himself might be knocked down the ladder himself a few rungs. Just then he noticed a large group of people, all dressed in a seemingly identical outfit, gather in the boarding area near him, and he groaned.

"What the hell is this?" he muttered.

"That's the Evergreens," a voice said from behind; he turned to see a woman about his age speaking, adding, "they're on the same plane, apparently. Going to protest some stupid convention. I didn't think they let groups purchase mass tickets like this, but I guess they do."

"Ugh," Leonard said, groaning and slumping into his chair, "Great. A plane with a load of weirdos."

Just then he noticed someone sit down beside him, and he glanced to his right to see a young woman with blonde hair sitting there, her bags by her feet, a press badge around her neck strung on a lanyard.

"You a journalist?" he asked.

"No," she replied, "I'm Kelly Schuester, the local weather girl. They just give these to everyone to make traveling easier. What's with the group of people?"

"Don't ask," Leonard said, going back to his book.

                                                                                                       ***

Wyatt had had a nice visit with Kelly, and was now cleaning up their plates. She had left for the airport an hour ago, and now it was just him, until Scarlett entered in just a towel and approached him from behind at the sink, kissing his neck, surprising him. He laughed at this display of sudden affection and turned around, kissing her back.

"You look so beautiful," he said, as she stood on her tip toes and rested her forehead on his.

"So do you," she said, kissing him, making him laugh again; she noticed the plates and asked, "So, your friend came and went?"

"Well she's getting on a plane today, so yeah she couldn't stay long. Still, was nice to see her before she left," Wyatt said.

He could never tell her. He could never tell her that he'd nearly walked off a bridge. That Kelly had stopped him. That he felt a great immense sense of relief towards her, and that he loved being around her. The last thing Scarlett needed to worry about was having a potentially suicidal husband. Besides, it was a one time thing. Wyatt had never before - nor since - contemplated ending his life. Just a momentary lapse in judgement, as he'd put it to Kelly the night she found him. Scarlett excused herself to get dressed, and then the phone rang. He picked the landline off the kitchen wall and answered.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Wyatt, we have a problem," Rachel said.

"...that's something I'm getting kind of tired of hearing," Wyatt said, "what is it?"

"Calvin built a bomb," Rachel said.

"Oh, I know that already, he was here, he told me," Wyatt said, "how did you find out?"

"Cause he just told me," Rachel said, "I'm in his parents kitchen, they're not here, but I came over to see how he was doing, and we were in his shed and he just started sobbing and apologizing."

"Apologizing? What the fuck for? He just built a bomb, he didn't do anything wrong," Wyatt said.

"That's kinda the thing..." Rachel said, "...he did."

                                                                                                      ***

Kelly hated flying.

Well, she didn't hate flying exactly. She hated the process of getting on a plane. This is partially what she appreciated about being part of the press, was that they just let her on. Authority was a hell of a thing. As she walked with just her little backpack down the aisle, searching for her seat, she couldn't help but notice just how many people from this group was on the plane with her. She finally reached her seat and sat down, realizing she was seated right next to the man she had been sitting next to in the boarding area.

"Well, you have to be better company than these whackjobs," Kelly said, making Leonard chuckle as she took her seat and shoved her backpack under her chair.

"Yes, well, sadly we don't have private jets," Leonard said, sipping from his can of open lemon lime soda.

"God, that's the dream isn't it?" Kelly asked.

"It's not a long flight. Just try to ignore them," Leonard said, picking up his book, "get some reading done!"

Kelly giggled and nodded. She used to read a lot, but she hadn't been doing that lately. Maybe this man was right. Maybe it was time for her to get back to it. After all, she'd recently returned to so many other things from her past, like being friends with Rachel, and starting new things, like her friendship with Wyatt. Maybe it was time to do the same with her hobbies. Kelly leaned back in her chair and pulled her headphones on down over her ears, relaxing. Nobody knew the bomb was in her bag, in the plane, ready to go as soon as the timer went off. Nobody on the plane knew that, in a matter of an hour, this plane would explode.

                                                                                                          ***

Wyatt opened his front door to Rachel, who stumbled in past him, Calvin closely behind her. In the half hour since he'd gotten the call, Scarlett had gotten dressed and gone out shopping, leaving the house to themselves. As they entered the living room, Wyatt put his hands on his hips and looked between the two of them.

"...what exactly is going on here?" he finally asked.

"I had to do it," Calvin whispered, his eyes glued to the ground, "I had to. He had to be stopped. Even if it's at the expense of so many others."

"What...what are you talking about?" Wyatt asked, his voice wavering, like he was nervous now.

"He had to be stopped, Wyatt. He was just gonna go home and do it again, to more little kids," Calvin said, collapsing onto the couch. Calvin buried his face in his hands and started sobbing. Wyatt felt extremely uncomfortable, like he was missing some crucial piece of information. Just then someone else knocked at the door, and he sighed, excusing himself to go answer, only to find Celia standing there. She also pushed her way into the house and then stopped, looking at the group.

"Did I miss something?" Celia asked.

"What are YOU doing here?" Wyatt asked.

"...uh, you haven't seen the news have you?" Celia asked, picking up the remote control and clicking a few buttons, until Rachel rolled her eyes, leaning against the wall with her arms folded.

"It's the middle button, Merlin," she said, and Celia pressed it, the television coming to life, before she began scanning through the channels, finally landing on a news channel. An anchor was sitting at the desk, giving a report. Celia turned up the sound.

"-because we don't know the severity of it just yet, but it seems like Flight 469 might in fact be going down. We'll keep you updated as this story develops."

Everyone stopped as Celia muted the TV and looked at Wyatt.

"That's the plane the Evergreens are on," she said.

"And Mr. Wattson," Calvin whispered.

Wyatt still didn't understand, and then it hit him like a ton of bricks.

Kelly.

                                                                                                        ***

Standing in her parents living, staring at the television screen in awe, Angie Dickinson couldn't believe her luck. She should've been on this plane, and the only reason she wasn't was because she'd taken Wyatt's advice. She flopped down onto the couch as her mother came in, handing her a glass of orange juice, which she sipped casually while staring at the screen. Wyatt had saved her life. Maybe she did have a higher purpose.

Maybe...

...maybe she was just worshipping the wrong man.

If there's one thing Calvin had learned to be true, it was that practice does indeed make perfect. Or at least makes doing something a 2nd time much easier. Leaning back on the stool in his shed and admiring his handiwork on the table in front of him, he just had to hope it would work. The problem with building bombs, especially in a residential neighborhood, is you cannot generally test them. Now his only concern was finding out how to use it. Calvin had already decided he didn't want to do it at the school. Much as he wanted Mr. Wattson to pay for his crimes, he didn't want the college kids to be in harms way. He was going to have to get him somehow, maybe at his apartment? That could work. A tight confined space.

Calvin bit his lip and thought how this was not the sort of thing you generally are taught in school.

How do you blow up a man with little fanfare.

                                                                                                     ***

Wyatt, seated at the outdoor patio table at a nearby deli he'd taken to go to lately, was looking around at the other couples there. For some reason, today, the place seemed to be absolutely packed with couples. He thought of Scarlet and grimaced. Things had been so good for a while after Grudin's death, why had things soured now? The pony didn't help, he knew that much. Scarlett wasn't used to him keeping secrets, nor was he used to doing it. They'd never had a secret between them, and now this secret life...it was creating a divide between them, a divide he feared was unbridgeable the further it got. He heard a chair scrape on the wood and looked across the table to see Kelly sitting down and smiling, plopping her purse down by her feet.

"Must be nice to just not have to go to work if you don't want to," Kelly said, making Wyatt chuckle as he lifted his water glass to his lips and took a drink.

"Well," he said, shrugging after drinking and setting the glass back down, "it definitely gives me time to be a dad and stuff, which is nice. I realize I'm privileged though, and not everyone has things as lucky as I do, so I try to appreciate the freedom it offers me."

"I have to be at work at 4am every day," Kelly said, groaning and running her hand through her shiny blonde hair, "I'm always so exhausted. Sure, I get to leave after the evening news, which isn't super late at all, but still, it leaves me virtually no time to be social or do anything fun."

"Well then think of me as your gateway to harder entertainment," Wyatt said.

"...did you just compare yourself to weed?" Kelly asked, laughing, making Wyatt shrug again.

"Dude, I don't know," he said, laughing softly, "I'm exhausted too, for what it's worth, so a lot of my jokes probably aren't going to land today. Still, it's nice to be able to get out of the house and have lunch with a friend."

Kelly blushed and nodded.

It was true, she thought. It was nice. She didn't really have any friends at the station, nor did she have many outside of the station. Work, honestly, was all she cared about, and for a long time that didn't bother her. It still didn't, really, but she had begun to start wanting to at least have one person to talk to. Now she had two. Rachel and Wyatt came as a package deal, apparently, and Kelly couldn't be more grateful for that.

"When do you leave?" Wyatt asked.

"You mean for Cloudcon? Um, in like 24 hours," she said, "I have my ticket, I have my bags packed, I'm really ready, I'm just waiting around now. They'll have an interim weather girl until I get back, so enjoy that."

"Is she better than you?"

"Are you insinuating I'm not the greatest weather girl ever?" Kelly asked, and Wyatt shrugged.

"You said it, not me," he replied, smirking.

"...you're an ass," she said, chuckling.

Yes, it was nice to have friends.

                                                                                                           ***

Most of his stuff was packed and already being shipped back home, and now all that was in Leonard Wattsons apartment was his suitcase. When he made a plan and stuck to it, he found he could be quite good at sticking to a schedule. Leonard sighed, hands on his hips as he looked around the almost bare apartment, and thought about Oliver. All this time spent here and he was ultimately coming away with nothing. He'd just have to find new people to produce content for him, and that was all there was to it. He groaned. His life was going to be hectic for a bit when he got back home. Suddenly there was a knock at the door, and Leonard turned and walked towards it, tugging it open, surprised to find Calvin of all people standing there.

"...hello," Leonard said.

"Hi Mr. Wattson," Calvin said, "can I come in?"

"...that depends, you plan on throwing a tantrum again?" Leonard asked, the both of them smirking as he stepped aside, allowing Calvin to enter.

"...are you...leaving?" Calvin asked.

"Something's come up back home, I have to go," Leonard remarked, scratching the back of his head before asking, "so...what is it you want, exactly?"

"I want to apologize, for one," Calvin said, "I guess I did go a little of the rails. I just...was disappointed. You were my favorite teacher. It's hard to have someone you admired so much turn out to be so morally dubious is all. But no, I wanted to apologize. Glad I caught you before you left, because I would've felt awful if I didn't get the chance to apologize."

Leonard smiled, nodding, his arms folded.

"Well, I appreciate that Calvin," he said, "Listen, the world is an awful place. You of all people should be miserably aware of that. Sometimes we have to do things we don't want to in order to survive, and sometimes that includes hurting others, unfortunately. But that doesn't mean I necessarily enjoy it. Yes, I was courting a high school sophomore. Yes, that's morally wrong. It's an illness. But it's such a stigmatized illness, that I can't even really get help for it without being labeled a monster. So I do what I can, try to control myself best I can, and just hope for the best."

Calvin clenched his fists into tight balls, nodding slowly. His blood was boiling, and he wanted to take Leonard's glasses right off his face, but he was restraining himself. Calvin looked around the apartment again, noticing there was nowhere to hide his bomb, and began to panic about how he'd accomplish his goal.

"I'm sorry, Calvin, and I'm sorry for trying to pull you into the fold," Leonard said, "I just wanted you to have a better life."

"I'd love to, but not at the expense of ruining another person," Calvin replied softly.

Leonard excused himself and headed to the bathroom, leaving Calvin alone momentarily. As he stood there, looking around the mostly empty apartment his eyes caught sight of something on the nearby kitchen table. It was Mr. Wattsons plane ticket. Calvin lurched forward a bit and looked at the information, reading the flight information and then, reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a pen, quickly uncapped it and, tearing off a nearby paper towel, copied the information down. When he was done, he stuffed the paper towel into his pocket, just as Leonard resurfaced in the room.

"Sorry about that," Leonard said, smirking, "flying always makes me nervous, so I've been peeing a lot."

"...I guess I'll see you when I see you, Mr. Wattson," Calvin said, as Leonard held his hand out for Calvin to shake, which Calvin did after a moment of hesitation. Just touching him made Calvin feel sick. When Calvin was finally out of the apartment and back downstairs in his car, he pulled the paper towel from his pocket and looked at it. He had information. He had the bomb. He just needed to put two and two together somehow. He wasn't going to let Mr. Wattson leave unscathed. No matter what, he'd see this man receive the same fate as other men who'd hurt children. That much he promised himself.

He just had to find a way to make it work.

                                                                                                       ***

"Because, mom, I don't want to," Rachel said, standing in the living room, tapping her nails nervously on the coffee table as Sun Rai laid on the couch, sipping tea; Rachel began pacing, just listening to her mother speaking, occasionally responding; eventually, Rachel sighed and said, "Look, you're the ones who pushed me away. I begged you, literally begged you for years to talk to me, and you didn't want to believe anything I had to say, so why should we start reconciling now? Yeah, well, maybe it's still too painful for me. Goodbye."

Rachel hung up, stood still for a moment, and then screamed loudly. Sun Rai looked up from her book and set her mug down on the coffee table.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

"Is anything ever okay?" Rachel replied.

"God, you're so emo," Sun Rai said, smirking, making Rachel laugh nervously. Rachel walked to the couch and Sun pulled her legs up so Rachel could sit down, then laid her legs back down across Rachel's lap.

"I tried to tell them about college, about my agent, about everything, but they didn't want to believe it. They said I was trying to ruin a mans career, and then called me melodramatic. If my parents won't believe me, then why should I even tell them things, you know? Fuck it. Not worth the irritant," Rachel said, sighing as she pulled a box out from under the coffee table and opened it, revealing her pot, which she quickly rolled into a joint and lit, leaning back into the couch and smoking.

"You never have to forgive them," Sun Rai said, "okay, please don't let society trick you into thinking that you need their acceptance. You're great without them."

"Yeah but the world is...fucking....lonely without family," Rachel said, before glancing at Sun and adding, "I mean, sorry, you're family too, I suppose, but...you know what I mean."

"I do," Sun Rai said, sitting up, balancing on her elbows, "I do because with my father so sick and presumably on his way out in the next year or so, it's made me realize just how fleeting and fragile your time with your parents is, not to mention your relationship with them in general. Sure, my folks are your typical overbearing Asian stereotypes, but they aren't bad parents, and I'm very grateful to have them and to be able to say I love them, because I know not everyone gets that."

Rachel exhaled smoke from her mouth and looked at Sun as she sat up, pulling her legs off Rachel and sitting cross legged now.

"But, like you said, I'm here, I can be family," Sun whispered, leaning in and pressing her lips to Rachel's neck, making her blush and giggle.

"Ooh that makes this incest," Rachel whispered.

"Why do you have to be so creepy about everything," Sun asked, laughing.

                                                                                                         ***

"You gonna bring me back a gift from Cloudcon?" Wyatt asked, stabbing his side salad and pulling some of it into his mouth, chewing as Kelly finished chewing her pastrami sandwich.

"A gift? What do you want? There's a guy who sells snow globes that show each city in the event of nuclear winter," Kelly said.

"That's awesome," Wyatt said, "get me Chicago. I wanna see it leveled."

"What did Chicago ever do to you?" Kelly asked, laughing.

"I had a bad hot dog there once and spent most of the trip in the bathroom," Wyatt said, chewing, "fuck Chicago."

"Hey," a voice said, causing Wyatt and Kelly to look to the side of the table, noticing Celia was standing there before pulling a chair out and seating herself; she smiled at Kelly and introduced herself, "Hi, I'm Celia. I'm a friend of Wyatt's. I was just coming to have lunch and saw you, figured you'd like some company."

"The more the merrier," Kelly said enthusiastically, making Wyatt smile. He liked her eternal openness.

Celia waited for someone to take her order - a honey ham and swiss cheese sandwich - before picking up the glass of water they'd brought her and took a long sip from it, then sighing afterwards and wiping her mouth on her blazer sleeve.

"And you call yourself a consummate professional," Wyatt said.

"I never once used the word 'consummate' and you know it," Celia replied, making them laugh as she added, "so, did you hear about the Evergreens?"

This caught Wyatt's attention, and he looked up at her, ignoring his food now as Celia continued.

"They're going to some convention to protest and try to get people in the weather industry to listen to them," Celia said, "they claim that people involved with the weather are their best hope for getting their message about saving the environment from rampant industrialization. They came in to speak to me today about it, about their policy and stuff and like if they legally had the right to be there. Don't remember the name of the convention, but these people are dedicated. Unfortunately they're also out of their minds."

"...Cloudcon?" Wyatt and Kelly asked in unison as Celia nodded, sipping more water.

"Yeah that's it!" she said, pointing at Wyatt, "...why do you know that?"

"Because I'm going to that," Kelly said, "I leave tomorrow. actually. I'm the local weathergirl for this area."

"I thought you looked familiar," Celia said, pointing at her, "Now I know why!"

"Ugh, to think I'll have to share a plane with those people," Kelly said, shaking her head in annoyance as she continue to bite into her sandwich, "weirdos."

"Well, it's probably not a long flight, you won't be in the air long," Wyatt said.

"Here's to hoping," Kelly replied, not realizing just how true his words would wind up being.

                                                                                                         ***

That evening, when Wyatt arrived home, he found Scarlett making dinner in the kitchen as Mona and her little brother watched TV in the living room. Wyatt headed into the kitchen and put his arms around Scarlett's waist, surprising her from behind as she stood over the stove, and nuzzled his face into her neck, making her laugh.

"You're prickly!" she said, "You need to shave."

"Hell no, I'm gonna be a silver fox," Wyatt said, stroking his fuzzy face with his hand.

"You're in your thirties, you're not allowed to be a silver fox until you're in yours 60s at the earliest," Scarlett said as Wyatt backed away and went to get a drink from the fridge. As he unscrewed a beer and leaned against the fridge, watching his wife cook and drinking his beer, he couldn't help but think how nice it was to come home to this. He sighed and looked at his shoes.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, "...I've been a shitty husband lately. I'm sorry."

"You're not shitty, dude," Scarlett said, "you're just...I need you to work with me on things, you know? If you're going to make a big purchase, like a pony, then you need to consult me first, okay? I don't hate you. I just want us to work together cause we've always made a great team."

Wyatt smiled, nodding. He didn't deserve her, and he knew it. He'd always secretly known it, and had always harbored a small amount of guilt, feeling as though he'd somehow tricked her into loving him, and now he'd trapped her in this life, despite all the evidence she gave him to the contrary proving that she genuinely was happy with what they had. After all, they had their own business, a nice home, two children, and now a pony. What more could one really ask for when it came to creature comforts? Wyatt lifted the beer to his lips again and took another sip, thinking back to lunch with Kelly. He wanted to keep Kelly safe from his life, just like Scarlett. He didn't want these women getting sucked into his web of tangled shit and have to deal with his poor decisions. He felt like he'd already disappointed one woman. He didn't want to disappoint Kelly too.

Meanwhile, elsewhere, Calvin wasn't having a great night. He didn't have a wife or children to go home to. Instead, when Calvin entered his parents home that night, after having gotten dinner out, he found his mom sitting alone in the living room, watching some antique grading show on television. Calvin stood in the doorway, hands in his pants pockets, as he watched silently with her for a moment before she noticed him and muted the commercial.

"We missed you at dinner," she said, "...your sister called."

"...she did?" Calvin asked, and his mother nodded.

"She wanted to talk to you but you weren't here," she said, "She sounded good though, or as good as she could."

"That's nice to hear," Calvin said, "...I think I'll go to bed."

Calvin gave his mother a kiss and then headed upstairs. He took a quick shower, brushed his teeth and then got into his pajamas. He laid in bed for a while, but couldn't fall asleep, so once he was certain his mother had gone to bed too, he snuck back downstairs and, after making some coffee, headed to the shed. He found the bomb sitting just where he'd left it, right on the table. He sat on his stool and stared at it for minutes on end in silence, just sipping from his mug. He needed Mr. Wattson to die. He knew if he let him go, he'd just wind up hurting more children, producing more despicable content from their pain. He couldn't allow that to happen. He was desperate to erase his ilk from the world, and make it a slightly better place. Calvin put his hand on the bomb and touched the cold metal casing, sighing.

There just HAD to be a way.

And Kelly, well, when she got home to the apartment, she kicked off her shoes and quickly changed into something more comfortable before finishing packing. She just had a few more things to toss into her suitcase before tomorrows flight, a couple odds and ends - notebooks, her bathroom stuff - and once she was done with that, she sat on her bed and flipped on the television. Kelly liked to watch TV while she fell asleep. She flipped through a few channels and then landed on some action film which just happened to be taking place at this particular moment in an airplane. There was some big bad with grandiose plans to blow the plane up with the hero on it, and it was up to the hero to rescue everyone else on the plane.

Kelly was asleep within minutes.

Mona was at school, their son was at Wyatt's parents, and Scarlett had social plans, which left Wyatt with plenty of time for himself, and today he found himself doing simple cataloguing and restocking around the store. It was a slow day, the place was fairly empty, and Ben hadn't come into work either, so he was all alone. Or rather, he would've been, if Celia hadn't stopped by. Now seated on a small stepladder beside him, smoking a joint and watching him do inventory, Celia couldn't help but shake her head in exasperation from the conversation they'd been having.

"We need a contingency plan," Celia said, continuing the conversation of the last half hour; she added after a quick puff, "we need, you know, a backup in case something goes terribly wrong. I'm not saying it will, but it would sure as shit make me feel a lot more comfortable rather than our general plan of just fucking winging it."

"We're not winging it," Wyatt said, chuckling as he started to stock some outdoor lightbulbs, "I've always got a plan."

"Hide in the attic with a shotgun is not a plan," Celia said, "that's a last stand."

"Better than nothing," Wyatt said, shrugging.

"...I feel like I should argue with you on that but I also don't know how," Celia remarked under her breath, taking another long puff before checking her wristwatch and sighing, "fuck. I should get back to the office. Walk me to my car?"

"Yeah sure, I could use some fresh air," Wyatt said, putting his supplies down and heading out the stores front with Celia. As they headed through the parking lot - Celia had actually parked across the street - Wyatt couldn't help but smile at what a beautiful day it was today.

"Why's the parking lot always so crowded?" Celia asked, "there's not even anyone here."

"It's the lunch rush for the place next door," Wyatt said, jerking his thumb back over his shoulder, "they have an insane amount of loyal clientele apparently. Never eaten there though. I don't trust anyplace that's that popular. Makes it seem like they must put mind control drugs in the food."

Celia and Wyatt laughed as they arrived across the street and into the other parking lot, still strolling towards her car. That's when they noticed the group of people dressed in brightly colored clothing, were hanging around a van, handing out flyers to anyone who happened to come remotely close to them. Celia groaned and shielded one side of her face as they got closer.

"What is it?" Wyatt asked.

"It's the Evergreens, don't look at-"

But it was too late, Wyatt had already glanced out of sheer curiosity, which led to a very young woman - she couldn't have been older than 19 perhaps - to run over to them excitedly and begin walking alongside Wyatt.

"Hi! I'm Angie!" she said, "Um, so we're the Evergreens, and we're out here promoting better laws to protect the environment, particularly our local habitats since that's where we can make the biggest difference. So I have this flyer, and some papers, and if you want, maybe you can-"

"Angie, I'm gonna stop you right there," Wyatt said, turning to face her, smiling politely, "you seem like an intelligent young woman and your enthusiasm is so infectious the CDC is going to classify you as a pandemic, but quite frankly, I couldn't give less than two shits about your martyr. What you're doing is commendable, yes, the environment - especially local things that add value to the community - should be saved and protected at all costs, but the man you're all parading around killed his family. He killed his little daughters, his wife, and then himself. He's not a hero, no matter what his moral beliefs in other aspects might say. There's no justifying monstrous behavior. You can't just ignore an entire person killing their family and then cherry pick the parts you like best about them to make them look good. So Angie, you seem like a smart kid, but you shouldn't be involved with these people, okay? You're gonna get hurt."

With that, he patted her on the arm and he and Celia continued on their way.

                                                                                                         ***

Calvin Klepper liked being at the college.

Even though he did most of his work from home, he enjoyed going in and taking it to Leonard in person. Reminded him of being in college himself, a time in his life he genuinely appreciated. As he headed down the halls and reached Leonard's classroom, he was annoyed with himself because he had been a bit late. He'd told Leonard he'd be here earlier, but he must've had something bad for lunch, because Calvin then found himself sitting in the bathroom on his knees for a good 45 minutes before finally feeling well enough to drive over. Either way, hand reaching for the door, he hoped that Leonard would forgive him for his tardiness. As Calvin tugged the door open, however, he was stopped dead in his tracks.

Leonard had a young short haired brunette girl pushed up against his desk and was kissing her, her shirt partially undone. Leonard, upon spotting Calvin, quickly stopped what was happening and the two locked eyes. The girl, after recognizing the awkwardness, quickly gathered her things and left. After she was out of the room, Calvin slowly approached the desk as Leonard put on his glasses, readjusting them and chuckling.

"College girls, am I right?" he asked.

"That wasn't a college girl," Calvin said sternly, "that was Patty O'Tool's 9th grade sister. She's 15."

Leonard stopped and stood there, the two of them, each on either side of the desk, staring one another down.

"And why do you know this?" Leonard asked, reaching up and adjusting his frames.

"Because I've helped Patty O'Toole on numerous occasions here with her work, and her little sister is usually with her because she'll pick her up and bring her here so she doesn't have to be alone at home since their parents work late," Calvin said, his fingers gripping the files he'd brought over all the tighter now, "so you mind telling me why you're making out with a high schooler? Or you gonna play ignorant like you don't know?"

Leonard stood there, hands in his pockets, before he finally exhaled and looked down at his shoes. He walked towards the door, locked it, then turned back to face Calvin.

"...you know teachers don't make much pay, right?" he asked, "you know that I can barely survive. Even college professors don't always make the best money. You've seen my rinky dink ass apartment, Calvin, you know how I live. How I can afford to live on the salary they give me anyway. A lot of teachers take up second jobs. A way to support themselves while supporting themselves. My second job just so happens to be a little more frowned upon than others."

"You're not here to teach, are you?" Calvin asked, his voice low but angry.

"I am, but it's not my primary function, no," Leonard said.

"You came for Brighton, didn't you? I saw the key to his storage unit on your keyring," Calvin said, "They were right."

"Were you the one who entered the unit?" Leonard asked, "I thought it looked a little shuffled through."

"You're a sick sack of shit," Calvin said through his gritted teeth.

"I provide a service," Leonard said sternly, "one that, yes, is perhaps looked down upon but one that people want to have. By providing said material, perhaps I'm helping others out there to relieve their fantasies without hurting someone else to do so."

"But you're still hurting children by creating it!" Calvin shouted, throwing the files at Leonard, who ducked, surprised at this action as Calvin continued, "you can't pretend like it's a noble cause when the production of it is mired in abuse! You're still doing terrible fucking things! So...so you paid Brighton to use his daughters to get your sick material made, that you were then able to peddle to others?"

"I'm not the top of the food chain, Calvin," Leonard said, "I'm not the man in charge, I was just A man in charge. But yes. Essentially. Now the way I see it, is we have two options here at this point. Either we walk away from one another, completely disappointed in a failed partnership but never saying anything to anyone regardless, or you could join me. You could make good money, Calvin. Have your own home again. Have a family again someday. And, you know what, because I respect you, I'd even give you a stipulation. Once you had what you wanted, got to where you want to be, you could stop, no questions asked."

"Well I'll have you know that I've hidden some of that unit material elsewhere, and I wouldn't hesitate for a moment to give it to the authorities and bring you down," Calvin said, approaching the desk and leaning on it, snarling at Leonard who just smirked and shook his head.

"Calvin," he said, "I'm a pillar of the community. An educator. People trust me to be with their kids. Who're they going to believe? You? A washed up sad excuse of a man who's lost everything? Who lives with his parents again and creates fantastical lies to make his life more exciting than it actually is? Think about what you're proposing," Leonard said, "so Brighton killed Grudin and then himself, or vice versa, either way Brighton is out of the picture and I need someone to replace him. You wouldn't even have to produce the material, Cal, I wouldn't make you do that. Just oversee production in general. Or you could continue being nobody."

Calvin stepped back and groaned. Leonard had him over a barrel.

"Mr. Wattson, why would you...just why?" he finally asked.

"People have their proclivities, and some are much more immoral than others but they're still proclivities," Leonard said, "I'm trying to help people overcome these things in the safest manner possible. I don't condemn them for their interests, not that I approve either, but at least, like I said, perhaps I can stop them from hurting others if I provide them with material."

"You cannot tell me you're not approving when you're making out with goddamned high schoolers!" Calvin shouted, "We're done."

Calvin turned and hastily exited, leaving Leonard Wattson to sit on his desk, thinking about what just transpired. Once Calvin got outside, back into the hall, he leaned against it and began to dry heave. Everyone had been right. He'd tried so hard to give Mr. Wattson the benefit of the doubt, he'd even become his friend, but Wyatt and Rachel and Celia, they'd all been right. His head swam. He needed to...he needed to...

...he needed to build a bomb.

                                                                                                        ***

Rachel was at her apartment, making coffee. Despite it being almost 8pm, she still wanted coffee, despite Sun telling her before she headed to her parents not to do it. But, whatever, screw her. Sun wasn't here, and coffee was. As Rachel started the machine, someone knocked at her door. She sighed and went to answer it, surprised to find Calvin standing there.

"Oh!" she said, "Oh, what are you-"

"He's the one," Calvin said, making his way into the apartment, Rachel shutting the door behind him and pulling her overshirt closed over her underwear, looking at him funny; Calvin started pacing and continued, "Mr. Wattson, he's the one. He did it. He did it all. You guys were right. You were right all along."

"Calvin, just...breath, okay?" Rachel said, approaching him, putting a hand on his arm, "Calm down, okay, and just tell me slow as you can what-"

"Why is the world so fucking sick, Rachel?" Calvin asked, his face streaming with tears, his eyes red like he'd already been crying for hours, "why...why do people get so much enjoyment out of hurting one another, innocent people too! Innocent fucking people! Like children! And nobody stops them! Somebody has to stop them! ...somebody has to stop them..."

Rachel put her hand to her heart, feeling genuinely sad for Calvin. He was in so much pain, had so much grief, and she didn't know how to help him.

"You know how people pray when they go to bed?" Calvin asked, wiping his face on his flannel sleeve, clearing his throat, "I pray too. I pray that I die. I wish I'd been in that car. I wish it'd been me and not my daughters and not my wife. I wish, maybe...even just one of them had survived. The world without family is cold fucking place, Rachel. I know you know that, being queer and being separate from your family as a result of that, I know you know what I mean. The world feels so fucking bleak and empty, even if you have great friends like you are, but..."

Calvin leaned against the wall and ran both hands down his face, taking a long, deep breath.

"...I'm not a bad person. I'm not a murderer. I'm not a monster. I'm just cleaning up the trash everyone else is willing to leave littering the streets," he said, voice still shaky, "I think I'm disappointed, more than anything else. Someone I trusted so much, believed in, admired...and he's just as bad as the rest of the filth. Really goes to show you never know someone, huh?"

Calvin reached for the door, but Rachel grabbed his shirt.

"You're gonna be okay to drive?" she asked.

"I didn't drink," Calvin said, smirking, "but yeah, I think...I think I'll be alright. I'm gonna go home, plunge myself into a project."

"That's a good idea, a hobby always helps," Rachel said, smiling back. As she watched Calvin leave, standing there in the doorway, she couldn't have known. She couldn't have known that he was going to build another bomb. That he had plans to take someone else out. And really who could fault her? How could she had known that in less than 72 hours...Calvin Klepper would have killed over one hundred people?

                                                                                                      ***

Leonard Wattson opened the door to his apartment and flicked on the lights. He plopped his suitcase down by the door, shut it behind him, then headed for the fridge. He needed some lemonade. Anything to take his mind off today. He was reckless, he knew that, he knew he shouldn't have gotten involved on school grounds. But Calvin had been so late, he just didn't expect him to show up at all, and he let his libido get the better of him. Leonard pulled the lemonade container from the fridge, popped the cap off and took a good, long swig. Afterwards he leaned against the fridge, one hand in his pocket, the other gripping the lemonade container, and licked his lips and sighing.

He'd have to leave. That much he knew. He hadn't really gained anything out of coming back here, and the only thing he'd truly done was ruin a former favorite students opinion of him. He had to go now. There was nothing to be found from this Brighton case, he was dead, his family was dead, and if there had been some kind of cover up, there was nothing he could find of it. He had at one point, especially tonight, questioned whether Calvin had been the one to have had a hand in it, but he couldn't really believe that. All Calvin had done was enter a former classmates storage unit, likely out of curiosity. No. Leonard didn't want to do anymore damage to Calvin than Calvin had already done to himself. It was time to go.

Leonard figured that, in the morning, he would gather up his most important things, tell the school there was an emergency and book a plane ticket to his former city for a few days from now.

He drank some more lemonade, before recapping it and putting it back in the fridge.

                                                                                                       ***

"Hello?" Kelly answered, picking up the phone and tucking it under her chin, smiling as she heard Wyatt's voice, "hiya! What are you doing calling me?"

"Just checkin' in," Wyatt said, "Wife isn't home yet, kids are in bed, so I got lonely. What are you up to? I'm just watching some thing on the history channel about mummies and curses."

"Sounds like a good time," Kelly remarked as she plopped down some more folded clothes into a suitcase, "Actually, I'm packing. I leave for CloudCon in like two days, so. Have to get this stuff ready to roll, pronto, you know? I'm a little excited too cause it got a few more days added to it, but I only needed to attend the stuff I was already going, but since I can stay on the news channels dime, I'll just relax by the pool."

"Anything to get some paid time off, right?" Wyatt asked, raising his beer to his lips and sipping it, sighing, "alright, well, what are you up to tomorrow? You still need to pack or you wanna have lunch or something?"

"That could be arranged," Kelly said, smiling as she locked her suitcase and sat on the bedside, "um...you gonna be alright with me being gone for a little while? Hah. I know that, ya know, lately we've been pretty chummy just cause you needed someone and I don't mind being there and helping and listening if it keeps you from, ya know, throwing yourself off a bridge, but still. You think you'll be okay til I get back?"

"I think so, yeah," Wyatt said, nodding to himself, "things aren't so bad right now."

"I'll stop by before I leave, just to see you and your family!" Kelly said, "but sure, let's do lunch tomorrow."

They made some plans - lunch at a little mexican place near the studio so she didn't have to go far - and then they hung up their respective phones. Wyatt exhaled deeply through his nose and lifted his beer back to his lips. He liked having friends. He liked knowing that he had people he could talk to, who weren't a part of his family or the weird fucked up situation he'd gotten himself into, who just wanted to genuinely listen to him. If only he'd done something sooner. If only he'd made Calvin listen to him. If only they'd been actual friends instead of mildly irritated acquaintances, all of this could've possibly been avoided.

Because 72 hours from now, Wyatt and Calvin would be standing in Wyatt's kitchen, Wyatt grabbing and shaking Calvin by the collar of his shirt, screaming at him for something he could've stopped, if only he'd seen the warning signs.

Wyatt exited the shed momentarily, finding Rachel sitting on the grass, her back against the outside, smoking a cigarette. He leaned beside her and she glanced up at him, then handed him her cigarette, but he smiled and shook his head. Rachel shrugged and went back to smoking. A cool breeze blew through the yard, and Wyatt exhaled, shaking the leaves in the tree overhead the shed.

"You know," Wyatt said, almost laughing, "I never expected to know any of you. In high school, none of us really talked. I think I spoke to Calvin once or twice, but only cause we had similar classes. But you and Celia? Nah. And certainly not Kelly."

"You were too cool for losers like us," Rachel remarked, taking an offensively long drag.

"I wasn't that kind of popular," Wyatt said, sounding defensive, "you know that. I didn't put anyone down, I wasn't a bully. I was a nice guy. I was popular because I wasn't like that. Regardless, I don't have to defend my teenage self, and we're all friends now."

"Yeah but would we be otherwise?" Rachel asked, wiping her face on her sweatshirt sleeve before looking up at him, her messy ponytail swinging behind her as they locked eyes and she continued, "I mean, seriously, would be if we weren't involved in this situation? Think about it, before the reunion we weren't speaking. We all lived in the same town. We shopped at the same grocery store. You and Celia have children in the same school. And yet none of us ever took the initiative to approach one another and start up a friendship. So would we be friends now, if not for what we did? We're friends by proxy of crime, a lot of crime which wasn't even perpetrated by us, for the record."

Wyatt nodded slowly. Rachel had a valid point. She looked away from him, breaking the gaze, and focusing back on her cigarette for a minute or two before putting it out in the grass and stuffing the remains in her shirt pocket, before struggling to stand up. Wyatt held his hand out, and she graciously took it as he helped her up. She brushed her pants off and then looked at him.

"For what it's worth," Wyatt said, "...I'm glad we're friends. Who wants to have friends in high school anyway? It's all superficial. At least this is real."

Rachel smiled weakly, nodding in agreement.

"There's certainly nothing fake about this, you got that right," she said, and together they headed back into the shed. Inside, Calvin was pacing furiously while Celia sat on a stool, drinking a beer. Both stopped their actions upon Wyatt and Rachel's return, and watched Wyatt shut and bolt the door upon re-entry. After a moment, Calvin put his hands on the work table in the center of the shed and sighed.

"...Brighton wasn't an idiot, but he wasn't a genius either," Calvin finally said, "and...and I think I found something linking him directly to Mr. Wattson outside of just the key I took from Leonard. It isn't anything concrete, perhaps nothing even substantial, but I do think it's enough to warrant discussion, even if I still think the connection is strenuous at best and deserves more research before jumping to conclusions."

"How many former teachers are you friends with, Calvin?" Celia asked, "...cause it's not a common thing."

"You keep saying you found something, but we've been here for like two hours and you ain't showed us shit yet," Wyatt said, starting to sound annoyed, "so if you really think you have something, put your money where your mouth is. Let's see it."

"Like I said, it's not substantial, I don't think, but it's curious nonetheless," Calvin said, pulling a video tape from a shoebox and popping it into the tiny TV with the attached VCR before stepping back and pressing play. The screen fizzled to life, static and snow, color bars, and then finally a very blurry Oliver Brighton came into view as he adjusted the camera and then stepped back, waving and smiling into the lens before seating himself on a chair. He appeared to be in the storage unit, surrounded by his boxes of illicit smut.

"Hello," Brighton said, "this is Oliver Brighton, making a sort of last will and video testament. Um, this video is for Leonard Wattson."

"He looks like hell," Celia said.

"Guys, look at the date," Rachel said, pointing with her finger at the screen to the date in the corner of the TV, "this was recorded the night he..."

"Shit she's right," Celia whispered.

"Leonard has been nothing but the best friend I could ever have, and has given me so many amazing opportunities, and that's why I'm taking this moment to thank him personally. He changed my life and allowed me to be who I really was, and for that I'll be forever grateful. But things have changed, and I must sort of tender my resignation at this point, and for that I apologize profusely. Together, Leonard and I made amazing work, and I'll always love what he allowed me to do, but I...I have to do something now that he's not going to be pleased with, so...Leonard, if you're watching this, I'm so so sorry. Please don't be upset with me."

"Why didn't Leonard see this?" Celia asked, "wouldn't you think he'd have left it in a place he'd have easily found it?"

"That's the thing," Calvin said, leaning against the table, arms crossed, "I think, in his disheveled state, he put it in whatever box he could in that moment before he went home and did his deed. I don't think he was in his right state of mind to think about where to properly put this thing for Leonard to see. Regardless, his lack of forethought is to our benefit."

Brighton, on screen, started crying, burying his face in his hands, and for a split second, Rachel felt bad. There was the scared little geeky boy she remembered from school. The quiet, introverted nice boy who'd always helped her on coursework when she'd needed it, who'd even remembered her well enough to say hello to her the night of the reunion. She bit her lip and looked down. She couldn't watch any more of this.

"I'm so sorry, Leonard. I didn't do anything wrong, but I fear I'm going to be the scapegoat for everything, including what we do," Brighton finally said after regaining a small sense of composure, "and I refuse to be used the way you let me use others. Call me selfish, I don't care. I'm selfish. I know that. There's nothing you could say to me, about me, that would make me feel worse than I already feel about myself. I didn't wanna be this way. To like...these kinds of things. So thank you for at least letting me express that outlet, but also fuck you for doing so instead of trying to make me get help. Fuck you Mr. Wattson."

And with that Brighton leaned forward and shut the camera off again, leaving everyone to stand and stew in silence momentarily before Celia crushed her beer can and tossed it into the nearby trash can and belching.

"Nice," Wyatt said, making her laugh.

"I don't think Brighton being a weepy little bitch, and trying to grow a conscience an hour before he murdered his family, is going to do much for his public image. He's trying to alleviate himself of guilt for his part in horrific crimes, and it isn't working. The man had literally an entire storage unit full of, you know what, and trying to act like he's the victim here is just a disgusting power play. If he'd really wanted help, he'd have gotten help. He wants Leonard to feel guilty, that's all, end of story," Celia said.

"How do you not see this as pure straight evidence, Cal?" Wyatt asked, "Brighton literally spelled it out for you! He thanked Wattson directly for his involvement in their 'projects'. I mean what more proof do you need?"

"I just," Calvin said, groaning, running a hand through his hair, "I just wanna make sure, because if we're wrong, we could do a lot of damage. Mr. Wattson is a well respected man, and I don't want to fuck up the life of a man who's not only been a pillar of various communities, but also given me ample opportunity myself. He came back into town and the first thing he did upon seeing me was offer me work and-"

"He's doing the same thing to you that he did to Oliver, dude!" Rachel said, shouting, getting up in Calvin's face, "he's literally buying you off and you don't even know it! He's paying for your silence! By having you close, trusting him, you'll be far less likely to turn on him if and when the time comes, because you'll be so fucking loyal! I thought you were smarter than this, Calvin. I thought you had a moral compass. Wasn't that the entire point behind murdering Grudin? As a crusade for nobility? Because he killed your wife and daughter? But now you're willing to turn a blind eye to a man who helped hurt dozens of kids, and why? Because you trust him? Get fucking real."

Nobody said anything for a moment, but Calvin couldn't help but notice Rachel had made the same point Wyatt had made recently. That he sounded selfish, like he only cared about his own children. In fact, maybe he was, he admitted, but he didn't want to be. He wanted to protect any and all kids from harm.

"Alright, let's all calm down," Wyatt said, "we're not going to solve anything by getting irrational and emotional, okay? Let's just think about this for a moment."

"Think about what, dude?!" Rachel shouted as Wyatt inserted himself in between her and Calvin, "think about how he's a hypocrite? Cause I feel like that's been pretty well established, no need to think about that!"

"Rachel, cool it!" Wyatt said sternly, "I'm talking more about thinking in regards to Wattson's involvement. Yeah, this is...incriminating as hell, honestly, but it's not an outright admission. He never once says, on tape, what he did and who he did it with. For all anyone could know, he could be talking about the same work that Calvin's doing right now, just helping him with his teaching."

"He wasn't even in the city," Rachel said quietly, "remember? How's he gonna help Wattson with his work if he's in another city?"

"She's right, he flew in," Calvin said.

"So now you're on the side of condemning?" Wyatt asked, "after the fight we had in the store, you're finally open to putting blame on him? I'm not saying we shouldn't, but Calvin might be right, maybe we should be one hundred percent certain. We got lucky with Grudin, okay? We got so very lucky. But that level of luck isn't guaranteed again and again, alright? If we're going to do this, it's going to have to be concrete. We have to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he's connected, and then, and only then, if he is do we do something about it. But no bombs. I suggested a bomb, but I wasn't in my right head."

"When...when did you suggest a bomb?" Celia asked, sounding shocked.

"Right after we discovered the unit," Wyatt said, looking across the work table at her, chewing his lip, "yeah, I told Calvin we should blow Wattson up too, but I realize now that's a stupid idea. That was risky to begin with, and the only reason nobody realized how stupid it was to connect Brighton to Grudin is because Grudin's wife publicly said she didn't want to put her daughter through that."

"It isn't outside the realm of possibility that Brighton wouldn't know how to build a bomb though," Calvin said, "I had science with him, and he was good. He would do a lot of electrical projects for extra credit. I think the man could've built one if he'd put in the effort, so even if someone did look into that, I think they'd realize he couldn't be full excused."

"Okay, fair enough," Wyatt said, "but he's dead now, and that connection to Grudin is tenuous at best. We won't get lucky this time if we do something to Wattson. They'll come looking for another culprit, especially if it's the same kind of bomb. And then, and only then, will they likely realize the connection between the bomb that blew up Grudin and the one that potentially would blow up Wattson."

"I cannot believe we're even discussing this," Rachel said, walking away from the group, hand on her forehead, "do you...do you even hear yourself when you speak?! You're talking like we're some kind of vigilante group! News flash, bitch, we're not! I'm a barista, you run a hardware store, and Celia's a lawyer! We're not anything special, we're just everyday people!"

A hush fell over the shed, as everyone looked at nothing in particular. Rachel zipped her sweatshirt up and relit her cigarette, taking a long puff before exhaling the smoke into the interior of the shed and shook her head.

"I can't believe you," she whispered, "you know? I thought you guys were good people, but here you are just wanting to blow someone else up."

"I never said I was in favor of that, for the record," Celia interjected, raising her hand, "just, ya know, for what it's worth."

"You're not a saint," Wyatt said, looking at Rachel, "you think you are, but I assure you you're not. You were just as in on the Grudin thing as anyone else, hell, even before any of us. You were here, with Calvin, watching him build the bomb knowing full well what it's intended use was for, so don't act like you're absolved of any wrongdoings, Rachel."

Rachel stammered. She wanted to argue, but Wyatt was right. Now she was being the hypocrite. Besides, after her attempted rape, shouldn't she want to stop men from hurting others? Seemed like they all had a personal grudge against some kind of man in their life, except Wyatt anyway, and that was the common connection that held them together like glue. Rachel leaned against the workshop table, took another drag and sniffled.

"...sorry..." she whispered.

"It's alright," Wyatt said, putting his hand on her shoulder, smiling warmly at her, "it's okay, but if we're gonna keep this thing together, if we're gonna make whatever we're gonna do work, we have to be on the same page, remember? We can't have infighting. That's what leads to failure. Right now it sounds like we're all in agreement. We need more. We need hard evidence. Calvin, you need to bring us something we can point to as definitive proof. This is good, but we need a little more."

"I can do that," Calvin said softly, nodding as he chewed on his thumbnail, his eyes glued to his shoes.

"Until then, no more burning the units contents," Wyatt said, "I know it's cathartic, and the right thing to do in terms of ridding the world of this smut, but for right now, we might need that as evidence if we are going to ever turn it over for exoneration if and when that day ever comes."

"He's right," Celia said, "we're going to need a bargaining chip."

"Okay then, we're all in agreement?" Wyatt asked, looking around at everyone, all three of them nodding; he nodded, "good, okay then. I'm going home. I'm supposed to have dinner with my family, and I said I'd be picking something up, so I can't be any later than I already am."

Celia slid off the stool and pulled her leather jacket back on before catching up with Wyatt, the two of them exiting the shed together. As they walked across the lawn, Calvin and Rachel stood in the doorway to the shed and watched.

"...this is fucked," Celia whispered, waiting until they were properly out of earshot to speak, still keeping her voice low, "this is fucked on so many levels. We're not getting out of this. But if we can minimize our involvement to nothing more than concerned citizens, perhaps we can weasel a deal if nothing else."

Celia and Wyatt stopped at their respective cars in front of Calvin's house and looked at one another.

"Here's the thing, I don't trust Calvin for a second," Wyatt said, "he'll agree to anything then do whatever he wants, he's rash, okay? We need to keep a keen eye on him, alright? Can you help me with that? Rachel's too attached I think to be impartial, I think, so I'm depending on you to help me with this."

"You can count on me," Celia said, patting his chest before heading across the street. The two got in their cars, and pulled away in opposite directions, while Calvin and Rachel stayed standing in the doorway to the shed. Rachel finished her cigarette and tossed it back on the ground, stomping it with her boot before shaking her head, blowing the last of the smoke into the cool night air.

"So what's the plan?" Rachel asked, her arms folded as she looked at Calvin.

"The plan is to get the proper info on Mr. Wattson," Calvin said, walking inside and popping the VHS out from the TV, sticking it in a plastic bag and then putting that inside a small plastic container, hiding it high up on a shelf behind other things in the shed.

"And then?" Rachel asked.

"...and then we see what happens," Calvin said, "for better, or worse. Now shut the door, you're letting in cold air."

And with that, Rachel re-entered the shed, and slammed the door behind her.

Calvin's eyes fluttered open, and he could hear laughter from the kitchen downstairs. It couldn't be. He got up and, tugging his robe on over his pajamas he headed out of the bedroom and to the stairs. He could smell breakfast. Bacon in particular. And freshly brewed coffee. Calvin hurried down the stairs, a grin breaking on his face as he rounded the corner, entering the doorframe to the kitchen and saw his wife standing at the stove, making food. She turned and blew a kiss at him upon seeing him, as Calvin's eyes looked down to the table to see his little daughter coloring at the table and eating cereal. Calvin shut his eyes, starting to cry, until he felt a warm hand on his chest. He opened them and there she was, his wife, standing in front of him, handing him a hot mug of coffee.

"Good morning," she whispered, before leaning up to kiss him. And then he woke up.

Calvin groaned and rolled over, grabbing the pillow next to him and dragging it across the bed to his face, burying it into the pillow and crying silently. When he finally emerged and headed downstairs, he found his parents where they always were in the mornings, in the den, watching the morning news. Calvin - now fully dressed - stopped, hands in his pockets, and watched with them for a moment until his father, Barry, noticed him and smiled over his shoulder at him.

"Heya bud," Barry said, "we missed you at breakfast."

"...wasn't feeling hungry," Calvin said, "I need to run some errands, is there anything you need?"

"Some peaches would be nice," his mother said, looking up from her needlework, "I've been meaning to make a cobbler for a few weeks."

"Sure mom, no problem," Calvin said, smiling weakly as he grabbed his keys off the wall by the front door and exited. These days, the days when he had the dream, were often the hardest to adjust to. The day never felt real. He inserted the key into the ignition once in the car and pulled out of the driveway, heading out to the store. Meanwhile, back inside Barry nodded at the television and his wife, Amelia, looked up.

"That's not the normal weather girl," Barry said.

"Well, maybe she's sick today," Amelia said.

                                                                                                          ***

Truth be told, Kelly Schuester wasn't sick.

In fact, she was at the ranch with Wyatt, while Mona prepared for her horseback lesson, getting changed into her gear in one of the bathrooms. Kelly and Wyatt, as they waited, strolled around the stable, looking at all the horses. Kelly reached into a bag of feed hanging by one of the stalls and came away with a handful of grain, before opening her palm under a horses nose, watching as it chomped away and she laughed.

"I don't know why you invited me," Kelly said, "but I appreciate it! It's been ages since I was around horses."

"Guess when someone stops you from killing yourself, you sort of wanna keep them around," Wyatt replied, shrugging.

"Yeah, what was that all about?" Kelly asked, wiping her hands on her pants, as she walked back to Wyatt and, together, they continued down the stables.

"I don't know," Wyatt said weakly, "things have just been difficult and weird lately. Feeling like I'm disappointing my wife, feeling like I'm disappointing my friends. Hate my job. Everything just feels like it's suffocating me, so I figured I'd do the best thing for all involved and remove myself from the equation entirely."

"That wouldn't be the best thing," Kelly said, "I watched you and Mona interact. Your daughter adores you, and besides, if you died, who would I have to hang out with when Rachel isn't around? Really, you're just taking away my hobby. That's rude."

Wyatt laughed as they stopped and Kelly started feeding yet another horse.

"Anyway," Kelly continued, "I don't blame you for feeling that way. Lord knows I have felt that way too. I think most people probably have, they're just too scared to admit it because they worry it makes them look weak. Society has demonized suicide to such a degree that even the mere thought of wanting to do it is now enough to shame spiral someone into actually doing it, ironically enough. But that's what I think I've learned from it, ultimately. You're not alone in life, sure, because others feel the way you do. But you're also not alone in death, because others would miss you. Nobody can ever really be alone. There'll always be someone to whom you were their entire world, like Mona."

Wyatt felt himself getting choked up, as he nodded, taking her words to heart. Just as they exited the stables, they saw Mona atop her pony, trotting around inside the pen, her instructor right beside her, guiding her carefully, keeping a watchful eye. Upon seeing her father, Mona waved.

"Daddy! Look!"

And Wyatt smiled. Kelly was right. If nothing else, he had to stick it out for his daughter. She was the reason he wanted to change his life to begin with anyway. He wasn't going to take away her biggest supporter now. He would do what his own father never did, and he would be there.

                                                                                                         ***

Calvin turned a peach over in his hand, grimacing. These looked awful. He couldn't bring these back to his mother. He sighed and went back to digging through the peach barrel, trying to find just one, even, that wasn't about to be rotten. He heard a cart stop beside him and turned to look, surprised to see Celia there of all people, leaning on her cart, in the most "mom" outfit he'd ever seen her in. Some sweatpants and a v-neck t-shirt, her hair up in a bun. She smiled at him, as she watched him look for peaches.

"In the mood for some fruit?" she asked.

"My mom wants to make cobbler," Calvin said, "what are you doing here?"

"What does anyone do at a grocery store?" Celia asked, chuckling, making Calvin laugh.

"Fair enough, stupid question," he replied.

"One of my few days off, so I'm getting some errands done. Son's at home with a babysitter while I do this, but once I'm done I figure I'll take him to the park, go get some lunch, mother/bonding sort of stuff. You feeling okay? You weren't exactly in the best headspace last time we spoke."

Calvin shrugged as he picked up yet another over ripened peach, "eh, who can say? At this point, just waking up is good enough for me. I manage each day as it comes. That's really all I can. That's what the grief counselor said."

"You in therapy?" Celia asked, sounding surprised, but Calvin shook his head as he finally found a few peaches he liked and began tearing off a bag to put them in.

"Naw, this was a grief counselor I saw back after the accident," he said, "but she did give me a few good pointers I still use, including that one. Manage each day as it comes. That being said, it's always worse when I have the dream."

Calvin turned and began heading to another section of store, Celia pushing her cart alongside him to keep up.

"What dream?" she asked.

"Every once in a while," Calvin said, grabbing a box of blueberries from a shelf and dropping them into his basket as he continued, "I'll have this dream, or a variation of the dream, where I wake up and my family is still here. The one I usually have, like this morning, is when I come downstairs and my wife hands me a cup of coffee, and my daughter is at the table eating breakfast and...it feels so real, but I never get to do more than take the coffee. I never get to kiss my wife. I never get to eat breakfast with my daughter. It's hell."

"I'm so sorry Cal, that sounds so rough," Celia said quietly, "...but, isn't it at least nice to see them, even if only momentarily?"

"No, it's awful. Because then I wake up to reality, and the reality is they're dead. It's not a dream, Celia, it's a nightmare," Calvin whispered, feeling tears well up in his eyes, but he wouldn't cry, he'd never cry about it in public. Celia put her hand on his arm and he glanced at her.

"I have a child, Cal, I can't imagine losing him," she said, "I understand."

Calvin nodded slowly, before hugging her, taking her by surprise, but she just chuckled and hugged him back. It was true that, for all intents and purposes, their children were the thing that connected them all more than anything else, even their shared crimes. That was the one thing nobody could take from them. That connection. And it would be that connection that would ultimately keep them together as allies.

                                                                                                            ***

"She's good," Kelly said, sitting on top of the fence, watching Mona ride, as she sipped from one of the juice boxes Wyatt had brought for Mona to have as a snack; Kelly tossed her hair and added, "I wonder if it's just a thing every little girl goes through, the whole 'horse phase'. Lord knows I was obsessed. I used to take riding lessons and I had a whole cowgirl getup and everything."

"Loser," Wyatt muttered, making her laugh as she hit his arm playfully, causing him to grin. He really enjoyed ribbing Kelly, because he knew she'd never take it seriously. If anything, she had the most self esteem and certainty of anyone else he knew.

"I think it's this feeling of power. Women are often represented or thought of as being powerless, so to have commanding power over such a strong animal, it makes you feel like, 'oh, maybe I DO have control!' and make you feel better about your place in such a male centric society."

"That makes sense," Wyatt said, opening a candy bar he'd pulled from his pocket and biting into it, chewing as he spoke, "and that's what I'm trying to do. I want Mona to be strong, independent, fierceful. I don't want anyone or anything to ever stop her or make her think it could. I need her to be capable of taking on anything. She deserves to feel that sort of strength."

"You're a good dad, man," Kelly said, squashing the now empty juice box in her fist, "like, my parents were alright, but you're really going the extra mile, and that's the kind of thing she'll remember when she grows up."

Wyatt smiled, appreciating Kelly's kind opinion, but thinking about Calvin as he did. Calvin wouldn't get to see his daughter grow up, and he would. That didn't seem fair. He suddenly felt like he was flaunting his life in Calvin's face, and he felt bad about it. He should do something to make up for it, he thought. Get him a gift or something.

"I'd like to have kids," Kelly said, "but not anytime soon. I kinda love my job and want to focus on that first."

"Yeah, you big into weather?" Wyatt asked, grinning.

"Well, I am going to Cloudcon in like less than a week, so," Kelly said, "and I love doing that sort of stuff. Seeing all the new weather tech always gets me excited. Call me a nerd, but-"

"You're a nerd," Wyatt said, interrupting her.

"-I still like," Kelly said, shrugging, chuckling, "besides, I like having something you can predict. Life is often so unpredictable that it's nice that there's at least some aspect of it, even if it's just the weather, that one can predict with some sort of semi-accuracy, ya know? I know it's a lot of guesswork a lot of the time, but it's still kind of comforting. I might not know what'll happen to me tomorrow, but at least I can sort of know what the weather will be like when it happens."

"I'd never really thought about it like that," Wyatt said, hopping up on the fence to sit beside Kelly, "I guess you're right. That is sort of comforting."

Together they sat there, watching Mona start to canter around the arena, Wyatt smiling, so proud of his daughter.

"...they really named this thing Cloudcon?" he asked, and Kelly laughed, nodding; Wyatt shook his head, exhaling, adding, "jesus, they really couldn't come up with anything less dorky could they?"

"Well I'm not really sure what else they could come up with, to be honest," Kelly said, "but yeah, it's kinda lame. They could've at least called it like Weather Works or something."

"That's SO much better it's not even funny," Wyatt said, the both of them laughing.

                                                                                                          ***

Calvin got back home that afternoon and helped his mother put away the groceries, of course presenting her with her peaches, which she was thrilled and appreciative for. For dinner, he even helped her cook, and she made that cobbler for dessert. Sitting there with his parents at the table, listening to them talk about current events or even just memories of old, Calvin did have to recognize he was thankful he still had them. He'd lost his wife, he'd lost his daughter - and in a sense, he'd lost himself - but thank god he still had his parents. Not everyone was that lucky. Rachel, he knew, didn't really have contact with her family, and he knew Wyatt hated his father, so perhaps he should count his blessings where they came.

After dinner, Calvin did the dishes for his folks, then headed out to the shed for a bit, where he did some work for Leonard, knowing he'd have to get this stuff to him in a day or so. After that, he headed back inside, showered, and then, after getting himself a bowl of ice cream, he headed upstairs to his bedroom where he watched some late night TV and old sitcom reruns. After a little while, Calvin fell asleep. When he woke up, he heard the sound of laughter again from downstairs. He pulled on his robe and headed down the stairs, to once again find his wife making breakfast, his daughter sitting at the table. He shut his eyes again, and then he felt his wifes hand on his chest as she pushed his mug of coffee into his hands. He opened his eyes and she smiled, leaning up to kiss him.

And this time he got to feel it.

And then he got to have breakfast with his daughter.

And for the first time in a long time, Calvin had a dream. Not a nightmare.

Scarlett grabbed her paintbrush and jammed it through the easel, tearing it into pieces as she screamed at the top of her lungs. After a few minutes of this, she stepped back and admired her destruction, before tossing her hair from her face and glancing over at Rachel, who was standing nearby in the living room, her eyebrows raised.

"You okay there, champ?" Rachel asked, and Scarlett smirked, plopping the paintbrush in her tin and putting her hands on her hips.

"I feel better now, yeah," she said, "...it's been a rough week."

"You're tellin' me," Rachel said, wiping her own brush down before dipping it back into her glass of water and cleaning it before setting it down and pulling a pack of cigarettes out from her smock pocket, sliding one out before noticing Scarlett watching her, and then decided to pull a second and hand it to her. After they'd slipped them between their lips, Rachel put the pack back into her pocket before pulling out her lighter and lighting them, both women standing there smoking now.

"You're so lucky you're gay," Scarlett said, making Rachel laugh.

"It is kind of a blessing, yes," she replied.

"Seriously,  men are...men," Scarlett said, plopping herself down onto the couch, Rachel joining her shortly.

"Well, we're always looking for new recruits," Rachel said, taking a long drag and making Scarlett laugh.

"I appreciate the offer, but I don't think I could sleep with a woman," Scarlett said, "but I am grateful for your friendship regardless. I don't know that I'd be as sane as I am right now if I didn't have our weekly sessions to look forward to. Plus, I think I'm actually getting pretty good at painting!"

Rachel and Scarlett glanced slowly over at Scarlett's destroyed canvas, and Scarlett shrugged.

"Anger issues notwithstanding," she added.

                                                                                                      ***

Calvin was leaning against his car, hanging out at the river he'd been disposing Brighton's materials into lately, reading a magazine and chewing gum when he heard another car slowly pull up. He looked up and noticed it was Wyatt's car. Calvin tossed the magazine back into the car and then walked around to the trunk of his car as Wyatt parked and, much to Calvin's surprise, both Wyatt and Celia climbed out.

"You brought help?" Calvin asked as Wyatt tossed Celia his keys so she could open his trunk and pull out some of the units contents as Calvin was doing.

"Well, I figured it'd go faster if we had someone else," Wyatt said.

"You look like shit," Calvin said, eyeing Wyatt up and down as he schlepped box after box onto the grass beside them. Wyatt chuckled, leaning against Calvin's taillights, hands in his coat pockets.

"It's been a rough few days," Wyatt mumbled, "I also brought my shredder from my office. I figured the less we had to rely on a single one, the faster this could go."

"Smart thinking," Calvin said, finally getting the last box out and then shutting his trunk before standing now, facing Wyatt, their eyes meeting; Calvin sighed and then added, "I sort of feel like we're doing him a favor, getting rid of this stuff. If we were smarter, more organized, we could give it to the cops and ruin his image, but...then they'd ask how we obtained it, and I don't wanna go down that road. The less involved we are, the better. Brighton can continue to be a martyr, whatever, so long as we don't go down with him."

"Yeah, I can't go to prison for Grudin's death, I have a kid to raise," Wyatt said, before looking at Calvin and adding, "sorry, I didn't mean-"

"It's fine," Calvin said, smiling weakly, "Let's get this started."

Calvin picked up his shredder and opened one of the boxes, beginning to shred some of the photos inside as Wyatt walked back to his own car and helped Celia pull more of the smaller boxes with some of the tapes inside them out. After a moment she exhaled and wiped the sweat from her brow on her jacket sleeve before looking up at Calvin, then towards Wyatt.

"He's right, you do look like shit," she said.

All Wyatt could do was laugh.

                                                                                                            ***

"The truth of the matter is, like...when you've been with someone this long, it's hard to imagine your life before or after them," Scarlett said, she and Rachel still lounging on the couch, smoking; she took a puff and continued, "like, Wyatt and I have been together for so long that it's hard for me to not only remember my life before meeting him, but also wonder what my life would be without him. I don't wanna sound co-dependent, I'm not, but it definitely is true that your partner becomes your life."

"I wouldn't know, I've never had a long term relationship before Sun," Rachel said, exhaling a smoke ring into the air and chuckling, as did Scarlett, impressed.

"Well, honestly, you might be lucky in that sense. We met in high school. We were kids. In one way it's comforting, you know, to know someone that long? But on the other hand, I wonder if it hasn't somehow stunted us in some way because by having known one another that long, it kind of makes it feel like we're still that age. I don't know, it's all so complicated."

Rachel pushed her cigarette into the ashtray on the table next to the couch and sighing.

"I can't imagine that, honestly," Rachel said, "I would like to. I know it sets the bar super low, but like...your life is my dream. Just have a house, some kids, be a wife. So fucking traditional, but there's comfort in that familiarity, you know? But then I start to wonder what if that breaks down and then I'm trapped? It's scary."

"That's the risk you take for love," Scarlett said, shrugging, finishing her own cigarette and handing the remains to Rachel for her to also dispose of; she let the smoke escape from her lips and then said, "just because I can't see a future without Wyatt doesn't mean I want to, you know? I love him. I love him so much it's like physically a threat to my mental health. But I think so long as you work on maintaining the relationship, then it's all gonna be fine."

A moment of silence passed over the room, and then Scarlett sighed.

"The problem is when they stop working on it," she said quietly, causing Rachel to nod.

                                                                                                           ***


Wyatt and Calvin were seated on the fold up chairs Calvin had brought from his folks place - though he hadn't brought a third as he hadn't expected Celia to attend - while they shredded things. Celia sat on Calvin's trunk, handing them papers and pulling the film out from the VHS's for them to shred.

"I feel like I should've brought my fishing rod," Wyatt said, making them laugh.

"Fuck, I don't think I've fished in years," Calvin said, "my dad used to take me."

"My dad never did that sort of thing with me," Wyatt said, "come to think of it, he rarely did anything with me that could fall under the 'father/son bonding' umbrella."

"Well, my dad used to take me paintballing," Celia said, causing the guys to stop what they were doing and look at her; she smirked and nodded, continuing, "yep, you heard me. You're lookin' at a paintball champion right now. I know I don't look it, but I could whip both your asses with one hand tied behind my back."

"I don't think you can shoot a rifle with one hand tied behind your back," Wyatt said, "I think it's actually physically impossible."

"Semantics," Celia said, "you'll be singin' a different tune when I'm through with you."

"Yeah probably cause you'll shoot him in the nuts," Calvin said, causing them to laugh.

Celia hadn't thought about her father much lately, but maybe she should give him a call. Lately she'd been so caught up in work, and with this situation regarding Brighton's storage unit, that she felt like her personal life was falling by the wayside. Wyatt looked at Calvin and licked his lips.

"You got any gum?" he asked, and Calvin reached into his shirt pocket, pulling out a pack and tossing it to Wyatt, who pulled a strip and slid it into his mouth before tossing the pack back to Calvin, thanking him, adding, "you know...this is kind of nice. I mean, not exactly because of what it is we're disposing of, but it's nice to be outside. I feel like I spend all my time indoors, either at home or at my kids school or at the office. Often I feel like I forget what the sky looks like."

"That's poetic," Celia said, "I try and take my son to the park regularly, partially for him, but also partially for my own sanity. It's good to go outside. Good to a part of the world again, even if only momentarily. Even if all I do is sit on a bench and read a book while he exhausts himself, it's still better than sitting in some stuffy room somewhere, it's true. So yeah, fucked up as this situation may be, at least we're getting some fresh air. There's a silver lining to everything."

"That isn't true," Calvin said quietly, causing them both to look at him as he said, "sometimes there's no silver lining. Sometimes life just takes something from you, something that mean the world to you, something that is your world, and there's no upside. No positive. It's just unnecessary cruelty for the sake of unnecessary cruelty. That's the uncomfortable truth many people don't want to face. That sometimes evil just is, and that not everything has a 'reason'. My wife and child didn't die for a greater good. They just died because one man couldn't hold his liquor. That's just the world being the world."

Wyatt grimaced and scratched the back of his head, as Calvin put one of his hands over his face and started crying. Celia slid down from the trunk and approached his chair, stroking his hair to comfort him. Wyatt had never really thought about Calvin's loss, and how immense it really was. Could he even function half as well as Calvin appeared to if something happened to Scarlett, or, god forbid, Mona? He doubted it.

"Well, at least this way we've stopped two men from hurting children," Wyatt said quietly, and Celia looked at him, making him just shrug.

"I guess that's as good a silver lining as any," Calvin managed to say through his tears, before adding, "but it doesn't bring them back."

                                                                                                         ***

When Sun Rai got home that night, Rachel was making dinner. Rachel heard the door close, and heard Sun Rai enter the kitchen before feeling her arms slip around her waist and feeling Sun's face pushing itself into Rachel's hair, breathing her scent in, making Rachel giggle. Rachel set her spatula down and turned around to face Sun, who quickly pressed her lips against Rachel's, surprising her with this level of affection.

"What was that for?" Rachel asked after the kiss.

"I just had a long day," Sun whispered, burying her head under Rachel's chin, as Rachel held her close; Sun continued, "my dad is getting worse, and I don't know what to do about it. Sometimes the only thing that gets me through the day is knowing I get to come home and hold you."

Rachel felt touched, and had to hold back tears. She squeezed Sun to her chest and kissed the top of her head, promising to finish dinner and then hold her longer. For as much as Rachel had admitted she couldn't see herself with someone that long, she also couldn't see her life without Sun Rai in it either. She'd loved her since high school, and had always regretted never making her move, and now, to have her and hold her, it would kill her to have to let go. After dinner, they sat on the couch - Rachel sitting upright as Sun laid across her, her head in Rachel's lap so she could pet Sun's head - and watched awful reality TV.

After they went to bed, with Sun falling asleep first, Rachel laid under the blankets and stared up at the ceiling. How could she have these two lives? On one hand she was living the dream, with a beautiful girl she loved to hell and back coupling with domesticity, and on the other hand she was involved in the most horrifying situation, trying to untie what appeared to be an enormous web of child abuse. She didn't know what to think, and all she knew was that if she didn't keep them separate - or find a way out of the other - eventually Sun Rai would learn of her involvement in Grudin's death, and the framing of Brighton, and then her life would implode in a way she wouldn't be able to survive.

And that scared her above all else.

                                                                                                       ***

"Welp, I'm takin' off," Calvin said, putting the now empty bins into his trunk along with his shredder, and stuffing the folded chairs into his backseat. As he opened the drivers side door, he stopped and looked at Celia and Wyatt doing the same at Wyatt's car.

"You gonna be okay?" Wyatt asked, and Calvin nodded.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Go home, eat dinner with my folks, just try and find some sort of joy in the world," Calvin said, "Wyatt, don't ever let someone take your family from you. It's the most precious thing you can have, and to lose it means losing yourself. Please don't ever let someone do to you what they did to me, intentionally or unintentionally."

"I'll keep that in mind," Wyatt said.

"Thanks for the help. We can meet here again in a few days," Calvin said, "I have some work with Mr. Wattson, but otherwise I'm usually free. I'll call you when I'm ready. And Celia, thanks for coming and helping."

"Not a problem!" Celia said cheerfully, waving as Calvin climbed into his car, started the ignition and drove off back up the little hill and down the road. Once his car was out of sight, Wyatt looked at Celia, who had just finished loading their own materials into his trunk and shut it, her hands running through her bushy hair. She then hopped up onto the trunk and sat there, looking at the early evening sky, as Wyatt joined her to do the same.

"...he's damaged," Celia said.

"Well look at what he lost, honestly," Wyatt replied, "I mean...truth be told, I'd likely be a basketcase if the same thing had happened to me."

"What do we do if he loses it?" Celia asked, and Wyatt looked at her.

"What do you mean?"

"What if he becomes uncontrollable, does something stupid?" she asked, clarifying, "he blew a man up, Wyatt, we can't ignore that forever. He built a bomb and blew a man up. And not just any man, but a local politician. What do we do when he loses it, does something even worse?"

Wyatt shrugged and looked off towards the road as cars passed by.

"Guess we'll deal with that when we come to it," he said, "but, truth be told Celia, I don't see it happening."

Wyatt would revisit this conversation in his head in just a weeks time, and by then, he'd regret not listening to her.

Wyatt could feel the cool night air blowing through his hair, his hands grabbing the cold steel beside him, his eyes warm and red from the crying. He exhaled and shook his head, trying to regain his composure, because dammit, if he was going to do this, he was going to do it with dignity. Scarlett would understand. She had to. She would tell Mona who would maybe have trouble understanding but eventually she would get it as she got older. Wyatt looked down. The drop was monstrous and, in the night, looked like an empty abyss. All it took was just one small step.

Just one small step and it'd be over.

                                                                                           ***

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Sun Rai said as she pulled a blazer on over her button down shirt, "she's your friend, so I'm willing to go, but still, I can't believe I'm doing it. I'm not even that social a person."

"And that's what I'm trying to change!" Rachel said, coming up behind her and putting her arms around Sun's shoulders, kissing her cheek as she admired them in the mirror, saying, "Damn we look good together. I always knew we would."

"How close were you to this person?" Sun Rai asked as Rachel walked back to the dresser and opened her jewelry box, pulling some earrings from inside and beginning to pin them into her lobes.

"Uh, well, let's put it this way," Rachel said, "She has a birthmark in a very particular place that I have seen multiple times."

"Wow," Sun Rai said, "was it ever..."

"No, god no. We were just friends, but we were the kind of friends who spent all our time together, you know? We were like attached at the hip," Rachel said, finishing her earrings and turning away from the vanity to look back at Sun, adding, "as teenage girls tend to be. Anyway I've always wanted to be her friend again cause things ended kinda shitty between us, so I figured this would be a good way to start that."

"Well," Sun said, running her hands through her long black hair, "I'm sure it'll be a good time regardless."

                                                                                                ***

"How did you think I wouldn't notice?!" Scarlett shouted, "Are you that fucking dense, really?? That's a lot of money to suddenly vanish, let alone the bill that came for the stable! What dad actually tells their little girl 'oh sure you can have a pony' and then fucking does it?!"

"A goddamned good one?" Wyatt asked, pacing back and forth in the kitchen, scratching his forehead, "look, I know, I know, I...I should've talked to you about it, but she..."

"What is going on with you, Wyatt?" Scarlett asked, leaning on the kitchen island, "seriously, what is going on with you? You're buying horses, you're unhappy with work, how the fuck do you expect me to help you if I can't even understand what it is I'm helping WITH?"

"Listen, she wanted a horse, so I got her a horse! Why's this such a big damn deal, we can afford it!"

"It's a big damn deal because you just did it without consulting me! I'm not saying I would've been against it, but jesus christ, we're financially entangled, you can't just go making decisions like that! It'd be like if one of us bought a car for the other! That's a decision you make together, not on a whim!"

Wyatt leaned against the wall, forehead touching paneling, as he sighed.

"...I'm sorry," he said weakly, making Scarlett rub her face with her hands and then approach him, putting her hands on his shoulders.

"I wanna help you," she said gently, "let me help you, pleeease Wyatt, god. Whatever it is that's happening, whatever it is you're dealing with or going through, I wanna help you. I love you. Sure, in the grand scheme of things it's just a pony, it's not that big a deal. It's not like you're killing people."

Wyatt felt his stomach turn.

                                                                                               ***

Kelly Schuester was sitting in the restaurant, waiting for Rachel and Sun Rai to arrive. She was reading a book she'd brought with her, knowing she'd likely be there earlier than they were, and was sipping her drink while reading. She glanced up momentarily now and then, checking around the room to see if she spotted them coming in, and when she didn't she retreated back into her book. Eventually, she heard someone approaching her table and she looked up again, smiling upon seeing Rachel and Sun Rai as they took their seats.

"It's about time!" Kelly said, laughing.

"Well, it takes a while to look this good," Rachel said, making them laugh more; she cleared her throat and continued, picking up one of the menus on the table, "so I'm guessing you've eaten here before? What do you recommend?"

"Oh everything is good," Kelly said, "everything is great. I come here regularly because the network has parties here, so."

"The network?" Sun asked, and Kelly nodded, finishing sipping from her glass and setting it back on the table.

"Yes, um, I work for the news, I'm a weather girl," Kelly said, chuckling, "do you not watch much TV?"

"No, I really don't," Sun Rai said, "between caring for my father and work, I just don't have time."

"What's wrong with your dad?" Kelly asked, before adding, "uh, shit, that was...I'm sorry. It's none of my business."

"No, it's okay," Sun replied, smirking at Kelly's awkwardness, "uh,  he had medical complications a while back, and we're just doing home hospice care. I was in medical school, so I came home to help my mother with it. Exhausting, but, ya know...he's my dad, so."

Kelly nodded. If anyone was going to be one to empathize with caring for a parent, it was Kelly Schuester. She loved her mom and dad to death, and they were basically her best friends. This was part of why she wanted so badly to fix her relationship with Rachel, because she wanted friends her own age again, but at this age it was harder to make new friends. Besides, with Rachel she had history.

"So," Sun continued, picking up her own menu and opening it, "do you like being a weather girl?"

"Actually," Kelly said, "in a few weeks, I'll be heading to CloudCon, which is a convention for meteorologists out in Orlando. I have to go every year, see new technological updates to the services we use to predict weather patterns. Actually kind of not looking forward to it for once, it's exhausting having to be approachable every day for a few days straight. At least on television I don't interact with anyone except the viewer, and even then only for a few minutes a day."

"Well, you don't have a fear of flying, do you?" Sun asked, and Kelly shrugged.

"Not particularly. I'm not a fan of going through what you have to to get on a plane, but once I'm on it, I actually kinda like it," Kelly said, "something about being up in the clouds makes the weather girl in me happy."

Sun and Rachel laughed; Kelly's quirkiness was endearing, and that's what she'd made her career off of.

                                                                                               ***

"I guess I just don't understand," Scarlett said, sitting at the kitchen table, sounding annoyed, "because you have a great job but you wanna quit, and I'll support that, I will, but I wanna know why at least."

"Because it's not MY job, it's my dads business, and I'm fucking sick of working under him," Wyatt said, pacing again, "because...because I wanna do something for myself, for others. I wanna make the world better, not clutter it up with more shoddy housing."

"You run a hardware store!" Scarlett said, half laughing, half shocked.

"I know, but it's...it's development, you get it? It's further rape of the natural world," Wyatt said, "When we went to the reunion, I met this old classmate named Celia, and she's an environmental lawyer, and talking to her...I don't know...I guess I just....I realized how disgusting mans grasp on the planet is, and then with Mona getting her diagnosis...I don't wanna make the world a place less designed for her than it already is."

Scarlett folded her legs, nodding, listening as Wyatt continued.

"And then that fuck, Robert Grudin, he was going to give a competing company the go ahead to start ripping out our parks in the city, and build high cost high rise condominiums, and when I..." he had to be very careful how he approached this part, "...uh...when news broke that he'd been blown up, I mean, sure, shocking, but also part of me was weirdly thankful. Kinda like it was nature itself coming back for revenge for how we've treated it."

"...so a man gets blown up and you wanna change your entire life?" Scarlett asked.

"It made me aware of all the despicable things I've been a part of, even if unintentionally," Wyatt said, "just, ya know, by proximity of what I sell and help people accomplish. I felt...gross."

Scarlett sighed and looked away from her husband, shaking her head. She understood, but she didn't at the same time. Wyatt leaned against the kitchen counter and rubbed his forehead, groaning.

"...I can't explain it any better than this," Wyatt whispered, "I'm sorry I'm not making any sense and I'm sorry if it's confusing and I'm sorry if it makes you mad. I can't explain it. It's just...I need to do something better. I need to do something more."

"And that something more is buying a horse?" Scarlett asked, biting her lip to stifle herself from laughing as the words left her mouth.

"Alright, well, come on," Wyatt said, "that's...I mean. Can you blame me?"

"Is there anything else you're hiding from me? Cause now's the time come out with it," Scarlett said, and Wyatt chewed his lip, shaking his head.

How could he tell her? How would she understand? He'd just be dragging her into his mess if he did. He'd blown up Robert Grudin, he'd framed Oliver Brighton, he'd discovered a storage unit filled to the brim with the most vile type of media one can imagine. No. She deserved better than that. Once the unit was cleared, they'd be done. They'd be finished. He could get a new job, and get back to being the family man and loving husband he always had been. He was so close to the end, he just needed to reach it now.

"...can we actually afford to keep it?" Scarlett asked.

"Well I'm not getting rid of it," Wyatt replied, "I'm not gonna give her a horse than take it back, that's awful. If I have to, I'll ask my parents for money."

"I thought you said you were tired of being under your fathers thumb, and now you're gonna ask him to support your equine habit?" Scarlett asked.

"It's for his granddaughter, I think he'd be more than willing to have yet another thing to hold over my head under the guise of loving his family," Wyatt said, and Scarlett scoffed, shaking her head as Wyatt moved away from the counter, raising his voice, throwing his arms into the air and saying, "alright then! The fuck do you want me to do, Scarlett?! Huh?! I'm here trying to come up with solutions, and it seems like nothing is good enough! What would be easiest?"

"I don't know, Wyatt!" Scarlett said, standing up, approaching him, not backing down, "but this isn't getting anyone anywhere right now! Why are you so angry at me?"

"Why are you angry at ME?!" Wyatt asked in return.

"Because you're fucking us up!" Scarlett shouted, before putting her hand over her mouth, realizing what she'd said.

A cloud of silence filled the room, as they stood there, staring at one another. Wyatt looked at his shoes and sighed, scratching his nose.

"I...uh...I wanted to give you a good life," Wyatt said, "I wanted to...to make you happy, you know? I've tried my best to do that, but I feel like the ways in which I do are starting to break me down as a person, and I can't hold on much longer. I didn't...I'm not...trying to fuck us up. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Wyatt turned and walked out of the kitchen, grabbing his coat on the way out and, before Scarlett could even follow him, was in his car and down the road. Scarlett stood on the porch, watching his taillights vanish in the darkness, before she finally started crying.

                                                                                             ***

Rachel was in the restaurants bathroom, fixing her lipstick after eating, when the bathroom door opened and Kelly walked in. Rachel smiled at her, as Kelly approached the counter, looking at her own makeup in the mirror, checking her eyeliner. Kelly sighed and blinked a few times.

"I hate fake lashes," she said.

"You're wearing fake lashes??" Rachel asked, sounding surprised.

"Yeah, I don't know...apparently the studio doesn't think I'm 'feminine' enough, despite literally being a tall blonde under her class weight, so I'm doing some things my makeup artist suggested and, god, they're just so itchy. I can feel them on me at all times," Kelly said, pulling them off and laying them on the counter, groaning as she looked down at them.

"...I'm glad you wanted to have dinner," Rachel said, turning to face her friend, "I'm glad we're able to talk again. I'm so sorry for how I treated you at the end of school. I was so busy worrying about my future, about my sexuality, I just...I had to push you away, I hope you understand it had nothing to do with you personally."

"It took a while to recognize that, but I did eventually reach that conclusion," Kelly said, chuckling, "I really missed you, Rachel. I was so mad cause we had made all these plans, but I understand needing to do your own thing. But you were my only friend, and I missed you. It's so nice to be friends again, and your girlfriend, by the way, is amazing."

Rachel blushed, laughing.

"Yeah, she is isn't she? I sure got lucky. An amazing girlfriend AND an amazing best friend," Rachel said, hugging Kelly, who happily hugged her back. Kelly hadn't felt this kind of warmth from someone in so very long, and she was so happy to be feeling it again, and from the person she wanted to feel it from most of all, too. What a lucky girl I am, she thought.

                                                                                              ***

The bridge was empty.

Wyatt pulled up to the side and parked, then stepped out into the black night sky. He looked around, and was somewhat shocked by just how quiet and empty it was. Almost peaceful. God, peace sounded nice he thought. He could actually feel his muscles unclench. Wyatt reached back into the car, opened the glovebox and grabbed a pad of paper and a pen, then, seating himself on the hood, began scribbling something down. When his tears wet the paper, he didn't even notice. He had to give them some kind of explanation. They deserved to know. To understand. When he was finished,  he tucked the note into his jacket pocket, then patted it before walking to the rail of the bridge and, hand on the metal, pulled himself up onto the ledge.

Wyatt could feel the cool night air blowing through his hair, his hands grabbing the cold steel beside him, his eyes warm and red from the crying. He exhaled and shook his head, trying to regain his composure, because dammit, if he was going to do this, he was going to do it with dignity. Scarlett would understand. She had to. She would tell Mona who would maybe have trouble understanding but eventually she would get it as she got older. Wyatt looked down. The drop was monstrous and, in the night, looked like an empty abyss. All it took was just one small step.

Just one small step and it'd be over.

Wyatt shut his eyes and felt one of his feet go out over the edge. Just let it go. Let Calvin deal with it. Rachel could have her life she wanted. Scarlett could find someone who could actually make her happy. Just let it go. His lip quivered, his face streaming with tears, when he heard someone behind him.

"Wyatt?" they asked.

His eyes shot open, and he looked behind him. Standing there, arms folded in the chilly night air, in a tight black dress and her braided blonde hair flowing behind her, was Kelly Schuester. She had stopped her car and gotten out, just to approach him. Wyatt and Kelly stared at one another for a moment, as Kelly got closer to the bridge.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked, "...are you...okay?"

Wyatt couldn't respond. He just stood there, shaky. Kelly got up to the bridge and, reaching out, grabbed his extended leg and pulled his foot back to the ledge. She looked up at him, eyes wide and frightened, head cocked out of anxiousness, she reached her hand out.

"Come on, come down," she said quietly, and without thinking about it, Wyatt took Kelly's hand and slowly came down from the bridge. Standing there in front of her, unable to look her in the eyes, he fidgeted nervously with the zipper on his jacket. When he finally did manage to speak, his voice was low, barely audible, and shaky.

"What are you..doing out here?" he asked.

"I was coming from from dinner with Rachel," Kelly said, "...what are you doing out here?"

Wyatt snapped, and fell face first into Kelly's chest, sobbing. Kelly immediately held him comfortingly, stroking his hair.

"It's okay," she whispered, "you're okay. You're okay."

And he was.

For the first time in a while...

...Wyatt Bloom WAS okay.

Rachel hadn't slept well since the discovery of Brighton's storage unit, and frankly, who could blame her.

Now, she just laid awake for hours on end, maybe sleeping for an hour or so at a time, and then when it was finally morning, she just lay in bed, staring at the wall, incapable of gathering to energy necessary to get up and go to work. She felt Sun Rai sit on the bed, and then felt a hot mug pressed gently against her pajama covered back. Rachel rolled over and took the coffee cup, sitting up a bit so she could properly drink it. Sun unfolded the newspaper and started reading, as Rachel tried to get her mind off the sights she'd seen in the unit.

"Any plans today?" Sun asked.

"Work," Rachel replied flatly.

"I have to take my dad to the doctors again," Sun replied, turning a page on the paper, "what do you want to do for dinner?"

"I don't know," Rachel said, barely speaking audibly, her whole mouth in the cup, letting it warm her face.

Silence filled the room once more. Rachel started to feel bad, she felt like Sun Rai probably assumed she was angry with her or something, but god, she couldn't tell her what she and the others had found. She didn't want to involve her in their situation, just like Wyatt didn't want Scarlett involved. It was necessity to have a private and a personal life, and to make sure they stayed separate at ALL costs.

"Fuck," Sun Rai said quietly, "are you kidding me?"

"What?" Rachel asked.

Sun pushed the paper into Rachel's lap, and Rachel couldn't believe her eyes. There, right in the newspaper, was an enormous image of Oliver Brighton, paid for by The Evergreens, which stated, "They killed the world, so he killed his family: a real man puts the world before himself". Rachel felt sick. She quickly got out of bed and went into the bathroom, leaning against the bathroom counter, looking at her coffee mug. She looked from the mug up to herself in the mirror, and hated the face she saw staring back at herself. How much longer could she do this for? And then she vomited.

                                                                                                        ***


Calvin was standing in a department store, looking at small pieces of piping and comparing prices when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder, and, certain it was Leonard who had somehow discovered what he'd found, he turned around in fear...only to find it was Wyatt.

"Oh, god, you scared me," Calvin said.

"Calm down, buddy," Wyatt said, "what're you doing here?"

"Uh, a pipe in my parents bathroom burst, so," Calvin said, "what about you? Isn't this a rival operation?"

"I like to go through places sometimes, see how others stock things and take note," Wyatt said, jamming his hands in his pockets and nodding, "walk with me for a little bit. How you doing?"

"I think the question is how are you doing? Because you ran off like someone had set your house on fire," Calvin said, "are you feeling okay? Celia talked to me a little bit after you left and told me how distraught you seemed. You know we're all pretty distraught, but you seemed to have a particularly nasty reaction."

Wyatt chewed his lip, nodding.

"Yeah," he finally responded, "yeah I kinda...lost my cool. I went and pulled my daughter from school, we went to a toy store and my wife gave me some shit about it, but I didn't care. Besides, I can't take a woman who used to regularly cut school seriously when she talks about the importance of education. But I feel like hell. What did you wind up doing?"

"I took some of it, burned it and then dumped the ashes in a nearby lake," Calvin said, making Calvin nod.

"Good, good, that's probably the appropriate course of action when it comes to material like that," Wyatt said, stopping in the aisle, causing Calvin to stop and look at him; Wyatt waited a moment, then lowered his voice and came closer, whispering, "and what about Wattson?"

"What about him?"

"He's clearly connected in some way."

"All he did was have a key. For all I know, he and Oliver could've stayed friends into adulthood, and was the other one who had access to it, since Brighton took out his wife," Calvin replied, "there's nothing concrete to connect Wattson, and frankly I'd like to give him the benefit of the doubt, you know?"

"But what do we do if he IS?" Wyatt asked, sucking on his teeth nervously, "...do we do it again?"

"Do WHAT?"

"You know what."

Calvin couldn't believe this. Was Wyatt actually suggesting what he thought he was suggesting? Calvin waited before answering, trying to figure out how to further this conversation in both a way that would make sense without seeming like he was for it, and also not seem out of place considering they were in public. A couple college aged guys walked past, and once they were around the corner, Calvin finally spoke again.

"You wanna blow him up too?"

"Hey, you wanted to blow up Grudin, not me, okay?" Wyatt said, "you were gonna do that with or without me, and were working on it long before I came onto the scene, so. But this...yeah. This is a direct result of what we did, man. Oliver was blamed for our actions at the Morgana worksite, and as a result, he kills himself and his entire family, then is held up as the man who took down Grudin before he died, because Grudin was directly connected to Morgana's shady business practices. Now Brighton's a pseudo hero, and yet nobody knows what he was actually doing. We wouldn't even BE here right now having this discussion if we hadn't done what we did. Hell, I still can't believe they think he's the one who killed Grudin, but apparently his wife didn't want an investigation cause their daughter wouldn't be able to deal with it. We got so lucky, Calvin."

"And now you wanna push that luck, build another bomb, and blow up someone else?" Calvin asked, sounding annoyed.

"Oh, like you could've grown a moral compass in a few months, give me a break," Wyatt scoffed, and Calvin looked at him wide eyed, jaw somewhat open in surprise.

"Are you even hearing yourself, man?" Calvin asked, "I've felt like shit since it happened and I've been trying to get back to something resembling at least semi-normalcy, and yet you're just like 'hey, let's blow someone else up!'. With no proof, even! If we had proof that Wattson was directly related to Brighton's horrid actions, then yeah, maybe I'd consider it, but if he remembered me from when I was in school, how far fetched is it that he also kept in touch with other former students like Brighton? I'm not saying he's innocent, but I also can't pin something on him with no proof whatsoever."

Calvin shook the pipe in his hand in front of Wyatt's face and sneered.

"Now I have to go home and repair a broken pipe, thanks for the enlightening conversation," Calvin said.

"You're so full of shit, Klepper. You act so fucking high and mighty, but all you cared about was your personal pain, not the pain of those around you," Wyatt said, forcing Calvin to stop in his tracks. He gripped the pipe firmly in his fist and waited as Wyatt continued, adding, "I get that what happened to you sucks, but why wouldn't you wanna make sure other kids can't be hurt too? Huh? Or did only YOUR kid matter?"

Calvin finally turned on his heel and walked briskly back to Wyatt, striking him across the face with the pvc pipe, forcing Wyatt to stumble back as people stopped to look, somewhat in shock. Wyatt, grasping onto a shelf full of faucet handles, leveled himself while rubbing at the cut above his eyebrow and grimaced. Calvin looked around, realizing the small smattering of onlookers, and then reached out his hand to Wyatt, helping him back up. As he stood back upright, Calvin pulled him closer and whispered.

"We're done, okay? I don't know what you and the others wanna do, but I'm done," Calvin said quietly, before letting go and turning to go pay for his pipe, leaving Wyatt in pain, and confused.

                                                                                                   ***

"Jesus, that's...yikes," Rachel said, dabbing at Wyatt's cut.

She was on her break, and Wyatt had come by the coffee shop, so Rachel took him to the bathroom and offered to clean and bandage him. Wyatt, leaning against the counter, sighed as Rachel finished wiping down his cut and started to peel a bandaid to put on him.

"He had every right, I pushed too far," Wyatt said, "I admit it, I shouldn't have said what I did, but I'm just so angry."

"I understand," Rachel said, "I'm sickened too by the whole situation, but he's not wrong. It's weird that Wattson had the key, but it's also entirely plausible that he, as Calvin said, stayed in touch with certain students and Brighton was just one of them. But you, man, you need to find some way to relax."

"How do you deal with it?" Wyatt asked as Rachel finished pressing the bandage to his cut and then backed away, tossing her hair from her eyes.

"I...I don't," Rachel said, "I just keep it bottled up. Not exactly healthy, but better than getting into very public spats."

Wyatt smirked at her attitude, and nodded. She was right. He knew she was right. He couldn't keep doing this, and he was only further endangering them by dragging things into a more open space. They had to deal with things privately, and without fighting. Wyatt reached up and gently touched the bandage, grimacing again as the pain surged and Rachel grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand from his head.

"You don't wanna touch it for a while," she said, shaking her head, "Just go home and relax, okay? Try and take a nap or something."

Wyatt nodded, looking around the bathroom.

"Can I at least get a free coffee?" he asked.

"...fine," Rachel said, laughing as she headed out of the bathroom, Wyatt on her tail.

                                                                                                      ***

Calvin had finished the quick repair in his parents bathroom, and now was back in the shed, pacing, grumbling to himself about his interaction with Wyatt. He stopped and looked at the materials on the wall, some of which he had used to build the first bomb. Calvin reached out and picked up a clicking mechanism used for setting off the bomb and clicked it a few times himself. Why was he mad though? Wyatt had been rude, sure, but...did he have a point, actually? Had Calvin acted purely out of selfishness and grief, instead of valor? The world doesn't need heroes, he thought, at least not heroes like himself.

He sighed and sat down on one of the stools at the work table, turning the little clicker round in his hand repeatedly as he thought about the incident this afternoon. If Wattson was involved, would he be able to do something about it? He'd feel lied to and used, that's for sure, but would he have the stones to go through with another killing? He didn't want to kill people, but he also didn't think certain people deserved to live, and people who hurt children were right at the top of that list. Did that belief stem entirely from losing his own daughter? Perhaps. But it's a noble belief nonetheless, many would argue. In fact, most would argue. He had seen the same paper Rachel had this morning. He always got the paper for his dad before breakfast, and he saw the exact same image The Evergreens had made, and it sickened him just like it'd sickened her.

The only difference was...

...he couldn't let himself stay sickened. He'd already spent far too long being angry at the world. All he wanted now was contentment, and that was exactly the opposite of what Wyatt and others were offering. Calvin groaned and laid his forehead down on the work desk. He was beginning to regret ever having shown them the storage unit.

                                                                                                           ***

Wyatt came into the upstairs bedroom to find Scarlett lying on the bed in her silk robe and her underwear. As soon as she saw his head, she sat upright and scooted down the bed towards him as he seated himself on the edge.

"What happened to you?" she asked.

"I had a bit of an altercation with a friend, it's fine," Wyatt said, "Rachel patched me up."

"You went to Rachel and not home to your wife?" Scarlett asked.

"This friend is a mutual friend of hers and mine, it's a long story," Wyatt said, "...god it hurts though. Everything hurts."

Scarlett put her hands on both his shoulders and nuzzled up to him from behind.

"Talk to me," she whispered, "you aren't talking to me, and it scares me. We share everything. What's up with you lately? You've been so...depressed, so morose. What's going on with you? I'm worried," Scarlett said softly.

Wyatt sighed and shook his head. What WAS going on with him? He had such a good life. A great job, a wonderful family, a beautiful and fiercely intelligent wife, and two amazing kids. Why would he risk everything, and for reasons he couldn't even explain? He wasn't doing this on purpose. It felt like a higher calling. To rid the world of trash and make it better for his daughter, his son, every other child that was to come. Wyatt took one of her hands and kissed it, making her giggle.

"I don't like the world," he said quietly, "it's a disgusting place, and I just don't want to see it hurt our kids. I wanna make it better. What I do...it doesn't make it better. It provides, it makes OUR lives better, but it doesn't make the world better in the end. I don't wanna be blamed as part of why everything is shit once I'm gone and the planet's fucking uninhabitable. I want to be remembered as someone who did more than just separate plastic from paper."

Scarlett stroked up and down the back of his head slowly, knowing this relaxed him.

"Baby, everything you do is good, okay? You're good. Don't ever doubt that please," she said, "and that's a valiant wish, and if you want to look for something better, something that helps the world rather than harms it I am one hundred percent behind you. I don't care about material things."

Wyatt raised an eyebrow and she laughed.

"Okay, well, I do but...I care about you and your comfort level so much more," she said, resting her head on his shoulder, "...remember in high school, when we were first gonna sleep together, and you told me you were a virgin. That was surprising. I mean, we were almost seniors, and yet you - a very popular athlete at school - was a virgin? Wild. But I didn't care, and when you said you wanted to wait, that was fine. Your comfort has always been important to me. Just as I know mine is to you, okay? We're a team, Wyatt. Remember?"

Wyatt smiled and nodded, turning around and facing his wife. He leaned in and kissed her, as she put her arms over his shoulders. Then, without warning, he pushed her on her back and climbed on her, continuing to kiss her, making her laugh loudly. Somewhere along the way, he'd forgotten somehow that - before he'd become entwined with the others - he'd already had a teammate, and that was his wife, and he would do anything and everything for her.

"Well," he said, kissing down her neck, "then let me skip 3rd base and go right to home."

"Wow, you sure know how to talk to a woman," Scarlett replied, cackling as she reached over and turned off the bedside lamp.

                                                                                                      ***

Sun Rai climbed into bed and yawned immediately, but as soon as she was done, Rachel had clung to her, making her laugh. She started stroking Rachel's hair, her head flush against Sun Rai's chest, and smiled.

"I'm sorry for this morning," Rachel said, "I just didn't feel good."

"It's understandable," Sun Rai said, "you don't have to apologize."

But she did. Sun would never know this, but she did. She had to apologize. For everything she'd had a hand in, for this mess she'd help start, a mess that would, inevitably, she felt, be the end of them all. Rachel cuddled up to Sun Rai more and shut her eyes. But whatever came next, whatever horrors awaited them, she didn't care right now. Right now she was in bed with the girl she'd loved since high school, and that was more than enough comfort for her. The world could wait another day.

Her world was all that mattered right now.

The storage unit door rattled as it slid upwards, letting light inside. Oliver and the manager of the business walked inside. The manager swung his keys around his finger as Oliver stepped further inside, hands in his pockets and looked around at the space.

"So, it's climate controlled?" Oliver asked, not looking back at the man, "because I plan to store some stuff in here that could be affected by temperature changes. Old home movies and photos and stuff like that."

"Yes sir, the whole place is climate controlled, and we don't have any pests or anything that could harm your belongings," the manager said, scratching the back of his head, "and of course, privacy. Nobody will ever gain access to your unit from within the company. Believe me when I tell you we have absolutely no interest in your crap."

Oliver chuckled, nodding. He sighed and looked back at the manager.

"I get a key?"

"You get a single key, yes," the manager said, "but do not lose it. You'll have to pay to have it replaced. And if someone finds it, you wouldn't want them getting in."

"Trust me," Oliver said, as his eyes scanned over the interior one more time, "...nobody is ever gonna come here but me."

                                                                                                           ***

Rachel was sitting at her coffee table in her living room, sipping coffee from her mug and flipping through muted television channels. She yawned and tossed her long shiny hair, still waking up from sleep, when a knock came at her door. Sun Rai entered the room, clipping earrings onto herself, and headed to answer the door. As she pulled it open, they found Wyatt standing there, who smiled at her.

"Hiya," he said, "Uh, I'm...I'm here to see Rachel, is she home?"

"He can come in," Rachel shouted, and Sun Rai moved aside, heading back to the bathroom to finish getting dressed as Wyatt entered the apartment and shut the door behind him. He walked up to the table and looked around the living room.

"I think this is the first time I've ever actually been inside your place," he said, "it's nice. Cozy."

"What do you want?" Rachel asked, continuing to sip her coffee.

"Where's she going?" Wyatt asked, nodding towards the bathroom.

"She has a medical thing with her folks today," Rachel said.

"So you're free?"

The subtle urgency in Wyatt's voice caught her attention, and she set her coffee mug down and looked at him. She leaned forward a little, raising an eyebrow.

"...what is it you want?" she asked.

"I really need you to come with me somewhere," Wyatt said, "...there's something Calvin wants us to see."

                                                                                                     ***

Calvin was leaning against the door to the unit, waiting for the others to arrive. He was looking at his watch when he heard the click of heels on the floor, and turned to see Celia coming down the hallway. She smiled and politely waved at him upon approach, and Calvin stuffed his hands back in his pockets, smiling back at her. As Celia got closer, she tugged at the strap of her purse, pulling it higher up on her shoulder and came to a stop by the door.

"I guess Wyatt gave you directions," Calvin said.

"Yeah, he said he was picking Rachel up, but that I could just meet you guys here," Celia said, "how long is this going to take? Cause I have to get to work soon, and then I have to take my son to his piano lessons and-"

"It won't take long," Calvin said, clearing his throat, "but, uh...look, you have a child, and I just...I want you to brace yourself for what you're going to see, okay?"

Celia looked at Calvin, her eyes widened. She glanced at the unit door, then back at Calvin.

"What the hell's in here, man?" she asked quietly.

"...terrible, awful things," Calvin said, almost on the verge of tears.

                                                                                                         ***

Wyatt was driving, heading to the storage place while Rachel played with the dials on his car radio.

"You have satellite radio, and I am so jealous," Rachel said, "I still use cassette tapes."

"How is it possible that everytime I learn something new about you it makes me feel even worse?" Wyatt asked, "it's impressive, it really is. Stop turning that, you're gonna damage my knob!" he said as he slapped playfully at her hand.

"Oh, I wouldn't want anything to happen to your knob," Rachel replied, cackling, "so where are we going, anyway?"

"Calvin came by my house last night, gave me a key," Wyatt said as they came to a red light, only a block away from the storage place; Rachel put her window down and hung her arm out as Wyatt continued, "he told me to come to this storage place because he had something to show us. He told me to gather you and Celia, because he needed you guys to see it too."

"What's so important about a storage unit?" Rachel asked.

"...it belonged to Oliver Brighton," Wyatt said quietly, and this got Rachel's attention. Her head snapped to look at him, as he looked at her, almost like he was scared; he nodded, and added, softly "...i know..."

When Wyatt and Rachel arrived, he parked and headed inside. He was holding the key in his hand, simply so he could remember the number of the unit and easily find the floor it was located on. It was cool and empty inside, almost an eerie feeling emanating from the building, as they headed down the long halls and up the stairs to the third floor. After a short bit on the third floor, they finally saw Calvin and Celia standing in front of the unit, chatting casually, quietly, until they saw Calvin point at them and Celia turned to look too.

"We've been spotted, cap'n," Rachel said.

"Set phasers to kill," Wyatt replied, making her laugh.

"Do you have the key?" Calvin asked as they got closer, and Wyatt held it up in his hand, before handing it back to Calvin, who took it and inserted it into the lock on the door. The others stood by as he unlocked the door and then leaned against it and looked at them; he exhaled deeply and said, "...I'm so sorry you guys have to see this."

Everyone exchanged a nervous glance, and Calvin slid the door up.

                                                                                                         ***

"You sure you've got a good place?" Leonard asked on the phone, and Oliver turned around in the unit, looking at the boxes he'd moved in that day.

"It's solid," Oliver replied, "it's roomy, spacious, secure, climate controlled. Nothing is going to happen to the merchandise here. And it doesn't even cost much."

"Don't worry about the cost," Leonard said, "I'll reimburse you from what we make off the material. You did good, Oliver. So now when do we start production again? I have a lot of customers saying they liked what you did last time and are itching for more."

Oliver leaned on a box and sighed, shaking his head.

"I...I don't know," he said meekly, "I have to give them breaks, you know? Can't work 'em to death. It's hard to find a balance that satisfies everyone. Roberta is...unhappy, but it provides and right now that's all that matters. She doesn't know where the money is coming from at the moment, she just assumes it's from what I do at work, but even if she were to learn, she'd already be complicit for spending the money."

"Of all my providers, you're the best," Leonard said, "I just want you to be ready, and feel secure enough to do what needs to be done. You take whatever time you need, just don't drag it out."

"Yes sir."

"I gotta go, I have another call," Leonard said, "Goodbye Oliver."

Oliver looked at the phone after Leonard hung up and he sighed. He slid his flip phone back into his slack pockets and looked around at the boxes. It was only a few right now, but within a few years, it would be so many more, and by the time he killed his family, some stacks would be as high as the ceiling, and by the time the group found it that afternoon...the amount of filth in that unit would be unthinkable. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could've prepared them for what they were about to find. The empire Oliver Brighton had helped build, and on the back of his own daughters no less.

                                                                                                      ***

The door slid up, letting the gang get a view of the interior, and at first glance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Calvin waited at the door as Celia, Wyatt and Rachel stepped inside. He then entered himself, shutting the door behind him and turning the lights on inside. Wyatt looked at the labels on the boxes and shook his head, confused and a little irritated.

"You brought us out here to see Oliver's collection of unwanted crap? Crap so unwanted he couldn't be bothered to keep it in his house? This is baby clothes, this is magazines, this one just says 'old VHS tapes'. What the fuck is this, Calvin?" Wyatt asked.

"...open one," Calvin said softly, so Rachel reached up and pulled the flaps to one box open, reaching inside and gathering a handful of CDs. She furrowed her brow, confused.

"Steffie, Age 5, NCDAD," Rachel read, "what...what the fuck does that mean?"

"Uh," Calvin said, scratching the back of his head, his voice wavery like he was about to cry, "The NC stands for nonconsent, and let's just leave it at that."

Rachel immediately dropped the CD back into the box, disgusted. Wyatt then felt Celia tap his shoulder, as she handed him a small photo album. He took it from her, but then felt Calvin's hand on the cover. His eyes were locked with Wyatt's, and he shook his head, barely able to talk.

"You don't wanna see it," Calvin said.

"...I think I have to, to believe it," Wyatt said, pulling away and walking from the group, opening the book. His eyes, scanning each unthinkable page, began to tear up. These images would be forever seared into his brain, and he wanted to vomit. Calvin leaned against the boxes, trying to catch his breath as Rachel finally spoke again.

"So...so he was..." Rachel said, "Oliver Brighton was making..."

"Yes, with his own daughters," Calvin said, "...we...we killed a monster. Inadvertently, but still. If we hadn't blown up Grudin, if Oliver hadn't been blamed for your actions at the Morgana site, he might've gone on doing this forever. And maybe not just to his own daughters, but to someone elses. We didn't even know, but we helped kill a monster. But I needed you guys to know, so maybe...maybe the guilt isn't as heavy now. We did a good thing. The right thing."

"Oh please," Rachel said, folding her arms, "Oliver was a byproduct, we had no idea he would be blamed, we didn't even know he worked at the site. We did something good, but entirely by accident. Don't act like it was intentional or noble. For it to be noble, we would've had to have set out to hurt him."

"She's right," Celia said, kicking the floor with her heels, "I mean, don't get me wrong, he was disgusting and I'm glad he's dead if this was what he did, but...his involvement in our actions was merely coincidental. He just happened to be connected, remotely, to Morgana, and then be blamed for Grudin's death as well because of us."

"That's what the sickest part, actually," Calvin said, rubbing his eyes, "is that now society sees him as this...this kind of...hero of some sort. Fighting against governmental injustice, all the while being completely blind to the horrors he was producing himself. They don't know what he was like, or what he did."

"Should they?" Rachel asked, "...I mean...what good would it really do? Let's be real, far too many people support this kind of shit, they just do it behind closed doors. Perversions are perversions, regardless of whatever sort of decent actions one might do in their life now and then. I doubt anyone would change their opinion, especially those on the fringes who already support him. In fact, if nothing else, it'd just be considered slander, to ruin his name. He'd be marked an even bigger martyr than he already is."

Wyatt calmly set the photo album down on top of one of the boxes and looked at the boxes surrounding him. These boxes, filled with unimaginable pain. Pain that came from two little girls, killed by their own father, who would never get to grow up and recover from his actions. Wyatt felt his stomach turn, and he quickly pushed past the group and pulled open the door, heading out into the hall, where he threw up on the floor. Celia quickly walked to him, patting his back, as Rachel and Calvin stayed inside the unit.

"...well, what do we do with it?" Rachel asked.

"I don't know. We could each take a bundle and destroy it in some way," Calvin said.

"How'd you even get this key?" Rachel asked.

"...it was on Mr. Wattsons keyring," Calvin said quietly, "which...I don't even wanna think about what that implies. I'm not ready to face that right now."

Rachel looked around at the boxes, nodding.

"I like the idea of disposing of it, little by little," Rachel said, "rid the world of a little bit more filth."

"Are you okay?" Celia asked, kneeling down to Wyatt, who was still bent over, dry heaving; she touched his face and asked again, "hey, are you okay? Do you need anything?"

"I...I can't be here," Wyatt said, "I feel dizzy."

Wyatt stood up and headed down the hall, one hand on the wall to help guide him, Celia watching him go. As he disappeared down the stairs, Celia looked back at the unit, then followed Wyatt down the stairs. When she caught up with him in the second floor hall, he was walking briskly, better, but still looked like hell. Looked like he was sweating to death.

"Wyatt, stop for a second and-" Celia said, grasping for his hand, but he wouldn't stop and instead jerked his hand away from her; she stomped her foot and shouted at him, "you wanted to make the world a better place for your daughter, right?! Well congratulations, you did it! You rid the world of someone wanting to do girls like her harm! Mission fucking accomplished!"

Wyatt stopped in his tracks and thought briefly, before turning and walking back up to her.

"His demise doesn't erase the damage," Wyatt said through his teeth, "he still got away with it! He still did it, for YEARS!"

Celia was, admittedly, somewhat surprised at his tone, as she'd never heard Wyatt truly angry, but she stood her ground and listened to him.

"I...how..." Wyatt stammered, as he reached out and put his hands on her shoulders, looking down at his shoes, "how could someone do that to their own child? To any child?"

"I don't...I don't know," Celia replied, "but he's dead, Wyatt, he's gone. He can't do it anymore."

"...i have to go," Wyatt said, turning on his heel to leave.

"Where are you going?" Celia asked.

"To pick my daughter up from school," Wyatt said.

"But it's only 11 in the afternoon!" Celia shouted after him, but he didn't care, he was gone. Celia sighed and turned, heading back upstairs. She found Calvin locking the unit back up, Rachel leaning against the wall, arms folded. She turned and smiled weakly at Celia as she got closer, and Celia ran her hand through her black poofy hair, unsure of what to say.

"So...if Mr. Wattson is involved..." Rachel said, "...what do we do about that? Like, sure, we can get rid of all this stuff and nobody ever has to know about it, but...what about him?"

Yes, Calvin thought, what about him?

                                                                                                            ***

Mona was sitting in class, chewing on the rubber stim necklace her father had gotten for her to keep her focused when doing schoolwork. Suddenly the door to the classroom opened, and a student came in, handed the teacher a note, then exited. The teacher read the note, then looked up at Mona.

"Mona, sweetheart? Your dad is here to take you to the doctors," she said, "he's waiting in the hallway."

Confused, Mona gathered her things and headed out of the classroom. She found her father sitting on a bench in the hallway, and as soon as he saw her, he got up and dropped to his knees, hugging her tightly, her eyes widening, her voice soft.

"oh my god, I must be dying," Mona said, making Wyatt laugh.

"No, there's...there's no doctors appointment, and you're not sick," Wyatt said, grabbing her things and taking one of her hands in his other hand, "I'm just taking you out of school for the day and we're gonna do whatever it is you wanna do."

"Really?" Mona asked, sounding simultaneously uncertain yet excited.

"Yeah, so what do you wanna do?" Wyatt asked.

"....I wanna eat an ice cream cone in a toy store," Mona said, making Wyatt laugh and squeeze her hand.

"Whatever you want, sweetheart," he said.

Meanwhile, since Wyatt had left, Calvin gave Rachel a ride home. When she got back, she shut the door behind her and looked around at her empty apartment. Sun Rai wouldn't be back for a good while, so she had the place to herself for a bit. She couldn't stop seeing what she'd seen in the unit, and so she went to the bathroom and started drawing a bath. She put bath beads inside, then bubbles, and then she undressed and climbed into the tub. The imagery in the unit brought back memories of her near assault from her manager in college, and she found her breath clenching in her chest. She couldn't take it, and she started sobbing, wailing, in the bathtub.

Celia, on the other hand, had done the same thing Wyatt had done. She'd called into work, excused herself for the day and gotten her son out of daycare. She then took him to a kids movie and out to lunch. Sitting there, eating lunch in a little restaurant, she couldn't help but feel even more protective of him now than she ever had before. This boy was an innocent, and she was determined to ensure he stayed that way. She couldn't blame Wyatt for feeling the way he did, but she sure wished she could help him see their actions in a different light, if nothing else. One boy at a time, she thought. Help one boy at a time.

And Calvin, after dropping Rachel off at home, drove down to a lake just outside the city and popped open his trunk. He then pulled out a plastic tub from the backseat of his car and dumped all the contents of one of the boxes into the tub and set it on fire. Calvin stood there, watching this vile filth burn, but he couldn't stop thinking about Leonard. Why had he had Brightons key? How involved could he be? The answer terrified him. Once the materials were burnt to nothing more than ash, Calvin picked up the tub and emptied it into the lake, then did the same with two more boxes. He'd already helped rid the world of trash.

Why not keep going, he figured.