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.

Wyatt, Rachel and Kelly were standing at a fence, looking out at a woman riding a horse around an arena. Wyatt's arms were folded, and he was shaking his head. Rachel, chewing nervously on her nails, couldn't possibly be anymore uncomfortable being at a ranch, and Kelly...Kelly was just seated on the fence and eating a sandwich she'd brought from the craft services table at work. Wyatt finally exhaled and looked at Rachel, who glanced back at him, their eyes locking.

"Dude, it sucks to be you," Rachel said.

"I never got the pony my parents promised me," Kelly said through chewing, "your daughter's a lucky girl."

Both Wyatt and Rachel glared at her, and she shrugged.

"...what?" she asked.

                                                                                     EARLIER THAT MORNING

Wyatt was sitting at the breakfast table, eating a bowl of cereal, while Mona was eating a toaster strudel. The baby was still asleep upstairs (the one saving grace about Mona's little brother was that he slept a lot), and Scarlett was drinking her coffee and reading the paper. She scoffed and shook the paper, then tossed it across the table to Wyatt, who picked it up.

"Look at this," Scarlett said, "remember that park Morgana was going to bulldoze? Looks like the park is now protected property by the city, and Morgana is under investigation. They aren't going to be doing much construction for a while, it seems. Honestly, good riddance. Imagine taking away places made for children, all for the benefit of low cost condos. Disgusting."

They heard Mona's brother start to cry upstairs, and Scarlett excused herself, getting up to head upstairs to gather him. Scarlett looked up over the paper and noticed Mona was locking eyes with him.

"What?" he asked.

"That's what you and that lady did isn't it?" Mona asked, "you guys stopped them. The night you took me trick or treating."

"Yeah, that was what we did, but we did it for you, and kids like you, who deserve to have a nice world to grow up in, pumpkin. Morgana was evil, and they were doing things illegally. We did the right thing," Wyatt said.

"...can I have a pony?" Mona asked, and Wyatt laughed.

"Yeah, sure, right after I get a jet plane," he replied.

"I'll tell mom what you did if you don't get me a pony," Mona said.

"...are you blackmailing your own father?" Wyatt asked, leaning in and lowering his voice, "seriously?"

Mona leaned in as well, smiling, and whispering, "I want. a pony. daddy."

                                                                                                              ***

Rachel opened the door, hearing the knock, only to find Wyatt standing in the hallway of her apartment. She pulled her robe over herself - she was wearing only underwear - and cleared her throat. Wyatt raised an eyebrow and Rachel sighed, exiting the apartment and shutting the door behind her.

"I interrupt something?" he asked.

"You caught me just after morning sex, so no, I was finished," Rachel said.

"Oh, well, aren't you lucky," Wyatt replied, "...I need a pony."

"Oh, is that all? Okay, well let me go to my closet and get you one, hold on," Rachel said, making him chuckle as she added, "why...why the hell are you coming to ME of all people? Why would you think I knew where to get a pony?"

"You told me you used to ride horses," Wyatt said, "once when the four of us had dinner together recently, a few weeks back, you and my wife got into this whole thing about hobbies you had as young women-"

"I resent that, I am still a young woman, thank you," Rachel said, folding her arms and leaning on the wall.

"-and one of the things both you and Scarlett did was ride horses," Wyatt said, "you told me you were, like, almost a professional at it or something. You did shows and won awards. I figured if anyone would know, you would."

Rachel hesitated, then sighed, shaking her head, getting her bangs from her eyes.

"...why do you want a pony?" Rachel asked.

"I don't want a pony, I need a pony," Wyatt replied.

"Well, that sounds worse, actually," Rachel said, "why do you NEED a pony?"

"Because if I don't get my daughter a pony, she's going to tell my wife about what Celia and I did to Morgana," Wyatt said, "you know, the thing Oliver got blamed for? The thing that got him fired? The thing that-"

"Yeah yeah, I got it," Rachel said, sighing and looking back at her apartment, "alright, give me a few minutes to get dressed and call someone. Meet me in the parking lot. We're gonna take your car."

                                                                                                          ***

Kelly was done with her weather reporting for the day, and was now just standing at the crafts services table, picking out some lunch. Always a challenge, deciding what to have that particular day, but she figured she should always try and mix it up. Just then her cell phone rang, and she reached into her pocket and pulled it out, answering as she picked up and examined a sandwich wrapped in plastic.

"Hello? Hi Rachel!...yeah, I'm not busy," Kelly said, "...okay, I can meet you outside."

Kelly took the sandwich and paid the man minding the cart. She then stuffed the wrapped sandwich in her coat pocket and headed out the backdoor towards the parking lot where she saw Rachel waving and whistling to her from the car window. Kelly ran over to the car and got into the backseat behind Rachel in the passenger.

"Kelly, this is my friend Wyatt, and Wyatt this is Kelly, she's a friend from high school," Rachel said.

"I know you, you're the girl who does the weather on Channel 7," Wyatt said as he started up the car and pulled out.

"Indeed I am," Kelly said eagerly, almost like she was proud, "so what do you need me for?"

"Do you remember where that place we rode horses was at?" Rachel asked, "because I cannot for the life of me recall where it was, but I was hoping you might."

"Why, are we going riding?" Kelly asked.

"Something like that," Wyatt muttered.

                                                                                                         ***

Leonard stood up from his chair in his kitchen and stretched, groaning as he adjusted his back. Calvin smirked as he looked up from grading a paper and leaned back in his chair. Leonard finished stretching and popping himself, then adjusted his large glasses and ran his hand over his mustache, sighing as he looked at Calvin and chuckled.

"Never get old, Calvin, it's not worth it," he said.

"Duly noted, Mr. Wattson," Calvin said, tapping his pen on the table, "I think we're about done with this batch. Should we drive these boxes over to the college?"

"Yeah, I'll take these two downstairs, if you just get my keys from the wall," Leonard said, gathering up two large boxes and carrying them to the front door. Calvin quickly got up and opened the door for him, which he was thanked for, and Leonard exited, heading down the apartment stairs to his car. Calvin packed up his things and then looked for the keys, noticing them dangling from a hook on the wall in the kitchen. Calvin reached for them, until he noticed one of them had a tag on it. Calvin leaned in and examined it, putting a hand over his mouth as his eyes scanned the words on the tag.

"O. Brighton Unit 321."

The key it was attached to also had the name of a company and the address embossed on it, and Calvin was terrified to touch it. He glanced back over his shoulder, hearing Leonard's trunk shut. Calvin then reached for the keys and quickly undid the one with the tag, stuffing it into his pocket, before grabbing the boxes and exiting the apartment. He handed the remaining boxes to Leonard, and then said he wouldn't mind driving them to the college. Anything to keep Leonard from realizing the key was missing for as long as possible.

But it didn't make sense, Calvin thought, why would Leonard Wattson have a key to a storage unit for Oliver Brighton? Calvin had a terrible feeling in his stomach, and he was terrified to learn the answer.

                                                                                                            ***

"Sorry, I don't sell my horses anymore," the older woman leading a horse back to the stall said. This woman, Caroline, was the one who had taught both Kelly and Rachel how to ride when they were young girls, and also had been Rachel's manager during her time doing professional riding.

"Well, if you don't, do you maybe know someone who does?" Rachel asked, keeping up with her by her side - Wyatt and Kelly following a little ways behind - as they walked, Rachel added, "somebody close by and maybe kind of cheap? Kinda desperate and in a rush here. Not to, you know, put any pressure on you Mrs. Wilkins."

As they reached the stall, Caroline pulled the door open and led her horse inside, shutting and locking the door behind her before turning towards the group and pulling her helmet off her head, shaking her sandy blonde mop of hair loose.

"...yeah, there's a small ranch a ways from here, maybe 40 minute drive, that'll sell you whatever you want," she said, "they're kind of, uh, what's the word...sketchy? They don't ask any questions so long as you pay 'em, let's put it that way. Don't care much for their reputation, I guess. Regardless, they're who I'd approach if you're looking to purchase a pony on such short notice. I have to ask...you're not gonna eat it are you?"

"Can...can you...can you eat a horse?" Wyatt asked, sounding disgusted as he added, "I didn't even....the thought never crossed my mind, but no, we're not going to eat it. Dear god. Especially not a pony. That's a baby. I don't even eat veal or lamb. I have a rule of thumb, no eating babies."

"That's a good rule to live by," Kelly said, nodding.

"Thank you, I thought so," Wyatt replied.

"Can we have the address?" Rachel asked.

Soon enough, the group found themselves at yet another ranch, this time standing at a fence, looking out at a woman riding a horse around an arena. Wyatt's arms were folded, and he was shaking his head. Rachel, chewing nervously on her nails, couldn't possibly be anymore uncomfortable being at a ranch, and Kelly...Kelly was just seated on the fence and eating the sandwich she'd brought from the craft services table at work. Wyatt finally exhaled and looked at Rachel, who glanced back at him, their eyes locking.

"Dude, it sucks to be you," Rachel said.

"I never got the pony my parents promised me," Kelly said through chewing, "your daughter's a lucky girl."

Both Wyatt and Rachel glared at her, and she shrugged.

"...what?" she asked.

"How you gonna explain this purchase to your wife?" Rachel asked.

"I probably won't," Wyatt said, "that's kinda how being blackmailed works. You don't need explanations. You just hide things."

"So, what, you're gonna rent a stall somewhere too and keep the pony there? Pay someone to feed it and bring your kid up whenever she wants, by yourself, to ride it?" Rachel asked, almost laughing, "you're insane, that's ridiculous. At some point Scarlett's gonna think something is up. She's gonna assume you're having an affair or something."

"Don't have an affair with a horse," Kelly said, shaking her head, "that'll kill you."

Rachel and Wyatt looked at Kelly with a mixture of intrigue and disgust on their faces.

"...i...i saw it on the news once," she whispered.

Wyatt ran his hands through his hair and groaned as he walked away from the fence. Kelly scooted down, closer to Rachel and spoke to her through half finished bites.

"Aren't you nervous to be here?" Kelly asked.

"Extremely, and honestly the sooner we get this done and the faster we get out of here the better. I never wanted to be around horses again," Rachel said, looking back at Wyatt over her shoulder and sighing, "I just was trying to help him. Poor guy has enough to deal with without his own kid blackmailing him."

"Blackmailing him over what?" Kelly asked, and as Rachel opened her mouth to answer, she quickly rethought this and decided against it, shrugging, shaking her head.

"I don't know, he wouldn't tell me," she replied instead. Here she was, just getting her former best friend back, and already she was lying to her. God. Well, whatever helped keep them in the dark, she figured. They'd been lying to so many people for so long, what could one more really hurt?

                                                                                                          ***

That evening, after dropping Kelly and Rachel off at their respective destinations - Kelly back at work so she could get her car and Rachel back at her apartment - Wyatt then picked up dinner on his way home. He couldn't believe the position he was being put in. Rachel had a point too, eventually Scarlett was likely to find out about the horse, and what would he say then? It wasn't like they couldn't afford it, they lived well, but still. Purchases of that nature are often ones a couple makes together, financially speaking.

All throughout dinner, Wyatt couldn't think of anything else but the stupid pony he'd talked about buying earlier. Whenever Scarlett or Mona tried to speak to him, he didn't pay any attention. He was simply too far into his own head. He put everything away and cleaned up after dinner, just to get his mind off things for even a little bit. Scarlett eventually took a shower, while Wyatt put the kids to bed. While he was tucking Mona in, he sat on the side of the bed and lowered his voice.

"...I think I found a pony," he said, "um, they're at a-"

"You actually got me a pony?" Mona asked, sounding surprised, "...I just wanted to see if you would. I'd never actually tell mom what you did."

Wyatt sat there, feeling like he was hit with a brick in the head. He started laughing uncontrollably and fell back onto Mona's bed, cackling. Mona started laughing as well, unsure of what else to do in the current situation. After he managed to gather his sense again, Wyatt sat back up and wiped his eyes free of tears, and shook his head.

"...you're evil, kid," he said.

"Sorry," Mona said, shrugging, "I just wanted to see how much you'd actually do for me."

Wyatt smiled and reached out, touching his daughters head and petting her.

"I'd do anything for you, you know that, apparently even buy a pony," Wyatt said, "whose name, for the record, is Sugarcube, is ready to be ridden any time. You say the word, and we'll go riding, yeah?"

Wyatt finished putting Mona to bed and exited into the hallway, heading up to the bedroom when he heard a knock at the front door downstairs. He sighed and headed downstairs, pulled open the door, only to find Calvin standing there. Calvin wouldn't even look at him, he wouldn't move his eyes from his shoes, but instead he simply put his hand out and pushed something into Wyatt's hand.

"...okay, first of all, what are you doing here at this time of night, and secondly, is this a key?" Wyatt asked, looking at what Calvin and handed him. He snapped his fingers in Calvin's face a few times, asking, "hey, anyone home? Calvin?"

"...you need to see something," Calvin said, "call Celia and Rachel. Tomorrow meet me at the address on that key. You need to see something."

"What's going on?" Wyatt asked, watching Calvin turn on his heel and briskly walk back to his car. As Calvin reached out for the door handle, pulling the door open and preparing to get in, Wyatt called after him, holding the key up in the air, waving it and asking, "Hey, what is this?"

Calvin stopped and looked dead eyed at Wyatt, his limps trembling.

"...it's Oliver Brighton's storage unit," Calvin said, "and trust me, you don't wanna see what's in it, but you need to."

Kelly Schuester had expected that, once she got out of college, she'd never have to wake up early again. Turns out even the weathergirl has to be up at a certain time. Kelly would bathe, dress, then head to the studio so she could have her makeup professionally done before finally going live in front of the green screen. And she was a professional to boot. No matter how terrible she felt, no matter what mood she was in, she was always chipper on screen. The way she saw it, many times the first person you see for the day is the weatherperson, so she may as well put a smile on peoples faces if she could.

Today, on her lunch break, she was pulling into a parking lot and groaning. She'd done her job, she had some paperwork to do, and then she could go home and relax. She had been feeling so ill lately, she really needed a vacation, but with the convention coming up soon, she knew she'd have to wait until after that. Kelly climbed out of her car and shut the door behind her, only to be jerked back and momentarily surprised until she realized the car door had eaten one of the coat tails of her jacket. She shouted and fumbled with her car keys, electrically unlocking the door once again and pulling her coat tail violently from the doorjam before turning back and realizing she was face to face with Rachel.

"....oh, hi," she said quietly.

"You havin' trouble there?" Rachel said.

"...my car ate my jacket," Kelly muttered, causing Rachel to burst out in laughter, which only made Kelly chuckle a little in response.

"I saw you from the parking lot across the street," Rachel said, "I work at that coffee shop. I just was hoping you weren't in need of assistance."

"Oh I am, just not that kind," Kelly remarked, the girls laughing again, "...are you on break?"

"Yeah."

"I'll buy you lunch," Kelly said, and despite Rachel slightly hesitating, she nodded in agreement.

Maybe it was time to bury the hatchet.

                                                                                                       ***

Wyatt had made these reservations a week before, and now he was on the phone being told that they could no longer accommodate them thanks to a recent, very small, fire in the kitchen. Wyatt didn't even get to have a conversation with anyone, he got a fucking voicemail. That's how serious this was, apparently, it warranted voicemails. Now was what he going to do? He set the phone back on its base and collapsed onto the couch, groaning, dragging his hands down his face as Scarlett came down the stairs, putting her hair up, already dressed for the evening. She was wearing a tight black dress and tall white leather boots. She stopped in front of him, hands on her hips.

"We're not able to go, are we?" she asked.

"You look like a go-go dancer," Wyatt said after a moment of looking her outfit up and down, "and no, we're not able to go, but we can...I don't know...find somewhere else?"

"Do you still want to?" Scarlett asked, tossing her loose strands of hair from her eyes.

"Of course, this is date night, we never miss date night," Wyatt said, "I just...am at a loss for where to go is all."

"Well," Scarlett said, "we could just go downtown and drive around until we find somewhere we think looks interesting, like we used to. We're too set in our ways now, we know our favorites and refuse to budge. We should get back out there and start exploring again."

"Alright, that...that's not a bad idea, let me go take a shower and get ready and stuff," Wyatt said, standing up and kissing her on the cheek before heading upstairs. As he got into the upstairs bathroom and shut the door behind him, he turned to see Mona standing on a stool in front of the enormous vanity mirror spread out across the sink, looking at her moms makeup. She wasn't trying any, she was just examining it. Wyatt smirked and approached his daughter.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Does every girl have to wear this stuff? It seems like it'd be uncomfortable," she replied.

"Naw, girls don't have to. A lot of them like to, a lot of them feel pressured to, but you don't have to if you think it would make you feel uncomfortable or weird," Wyatt said, leaning against the bathroom sink and folding his arms, adding, "don't you think mommy looks pretty with it?"

"Mommy looks pretty either way," Mona said, making Wyatt chuckle as she continued, "but I don't like the idea of having stuff on my face."

"Well, nobody is going to force you to, okay? Now go somewhere else, daddy has to shower," Wyatt said, gently patting her on the back to get her to move along from the bathroom. As she exited, she turned and looked up at him.

"Why don't boys wear makeup?" she asked.

"Because boys think they don't need help, when in reality, we can't do a single thing ourselves," he said, making her laugh as he said, "in fact, I'd be lost without you and your mom. Hopelessly unable to care for myself. We're just wired that way."

Mona laughed and ran off, as Wyatt shut the bathroom door and looked at himself in the mirror. Truth was, he had worn makeup a few times, but mostly as a teenager to cover up acne or a scratch on a photo day or something. He didn't mind it, but he also recognized he wasn't your usual run of the mill typical 'bro' who thought anything other than Football and eateries like Hooters were inherently homosexual. He licked his lips, then licked his index fingertips and smoothed out his eyebrows. Wyatt was vain, he wouldn't deny it. But that didn't mean he needed makeup, and frankly, Mona was right, neither did Scarlett.

                                                                                                            ***

"I'm just so exhausted," Kelly said, sitting inside and sipping her iced coffee from the straw plunged into the lid of her cup, "and now with Cloudcon coming up, and I'll be flying in a few weeks to-"

"...Cloudcon?" Rachel asked, taking a bite of her sandwich and chewing.

"Oh, it's...it's a convention for weather persons out in Orlando," Kelly replied, "I have to go every year, see new technological updates to the services we use to predict weather patterns, stuff like that. Plus sometimes we're given a seminar of how to act on screen. You'd be surprised at the limitations one is given even in just announcing the weather."

"....they seriously called it Cloudcon?" Rachel asked, making Kelly laugh.

"They seriously called it Cloudcon, yeah."

"That sounds like an evil company in a futuristic dystopia," Rachel mumbled, still chewing her sandwich.

"Iced coffee is delicious but it hurts my braces," Kelly said, tapping at her teeth with her nail.

"Look...one of the reasons I came across the street to talk is cause I...I wanted to apologize for how I acted. Not just in high school, but also at the reunion. I was a bitch, and I'm sorry. You deserve better than that. I owe you an explanation. Um...I was worried that, because we were such close friends, that....I guess that I'd start to feel something romantic for you. I didn't, but I was worried I MIGHT, and that scared the shit out of me. That's why I cut you off, because it was easier than dealing with myself."

Kelly leaned back in her chair, still tapping at her braces mindlessly as she listened. Rachel pushed her bangs from her eyes and scratched her forehead, exhaling.

"Ugh, this is weird. I knew I was gay, I just...I didn't want to admit it yet I guess, and I was scared that if we kept spending time together, or god forbid we did somehow attend the same college-"

"I understand," Kelly said, interrupting.

"No, Kelly, no, you...you don't," Rachel said, "you were the best friend I ever had. You were the only person who ever accepted me flat out for who I was, and I was stupid enough to believe you wouldn't if you knew what I was really like, so instead of finding out, instead of even giving you the chance to prove me wrong, I decided it was easier to not be friends whatsoever. That's not fair to you, and I'm so sorry."

Kelly smiled and looked down at her coffee cup.

"...I was so angry at you for so long," Kelly whispered, "you were the only friend I had. Even at work, I'm always the odd one out. Nobody's ever really wanted to be friends with me, no matter how hard I try. So that really did hurt, but thank you for being honest, I guess. For what it's worth, I would've accepted you, but I think you know that at this point. And, hey, if a girl was going to be romantically interested in me, I guess I could do worse than you."

"Hey!" Rachel said, both of them laughing.

Rachel and Kelly had been best friends. They'd been as tight and close as two girls could be, without it being romantic. Cutting Kelly out of her life had hurt Rachel, but she'd deemed it necessary for her own, and for Kelly's, sake. But, after having reconnected with Wyatt, Calvin and especially Sun Rai, she'd come to discover that maybe she should give people a chance to prove her wrong. For so long, she'd just assumed Wyatt was a jock and that Calvin was a weirdo, and they were sort of those things, but a stereotype isn't defined by its stereotypes. They're still people, capable of being individuals, even if they fit into a certain categorical definition. Rachel was starting to learn that herself. So now, sitting here as an adult with her best friend, she couldn't be happier with her life.

It was nice to have some bit of normalcy amongst the madness.

                                                                                                       ***

Calvin pulled open the door so Leonard could enter the college library and set the boxes down on the table, before following him inside himself. Calvin looked around, remembering when he'd been in college, and the hours he'd spent in the library. Those had been good days. Leonard groaned and put a hand on his lower back as the boxes hit the tabletop, and Calvin approached him, concerned.

"You okay Mr. Wattson?" he asked.

"Please, Calvin, call me Leonard for christ sake, this is awkward," he replied, chuckling, "and yeah, I'm fine, I just have a bad back. Comes with the territory of living this long, I suppose."

"I could've carried it, you didn't have to do the manual labor yourself, I'm more than willing to help," Calvin said.

"I appreciate that, Cal, I do," Leonard said, twisting and popping his back, sighing, "but if the school detects any kind of physical weakness, it'll be seen as me being too old to work or something, and I can't have that. I'll be fine. Just take some pain meds when I get home and use my hotpad. What you CAN do, Calvin, is start unloading these onto the table."

"What is 'these'?" Calvin asked as he started opening the flaps on the boxes and pulling the innards out as Leonard stepped away momentarily and cleaned his glasses on the hem of his sweatervest, chuckling.

"These are student papers," Leonard said, "mostly lengthy essays about the possibilities in the field of engineering for the current year. We'll split it, yeah? You just read through them, check spelling, punctuation, stuff like that. Then slide them over to me, and I'll mark any inaccuracies regarding the science of it all."

"That sounds fair," Calvin said, stopping as Leonard dragged some chairs to the table and seated himself in one; Calvin chewed his lip then said, "thanks Mr. Wattson, er, Leonard. I think I really needed something kind of ordinary for a while. Life has been so....fucked, honestly."

"I believe it, Cal. I'm sorry you had to go through what you did," Leonard said, crossing his legs, "it's not fair when life rips from you the only thing you really care about. The only thing that means anything to you. The thing that defines who you are, and what you wanted from existence."

Calvin felt like Mr. Wattson was speaking from experience, but he didn't want to pry. Calvin sat down himself and slid some of the papers across the table to Leonard.

"These appear to have already been corrected," he said.

"Yes, I went ahead and did some ahead of this to make it easier," Leonard said, pulling a red pen from his sweatervest pocket, "that way I'd have something to do while you got started. You know, you were my best student, it's a shame you didn't stick with science."

"I still kind of do things," Calvin said, shrugging as he uncapped a black pen and started working on a paper as well, "I just do it in my parents shed in the backyard. Nothing spectacular, just little projects to keep my mind sharp, keep me focused, give me something to do."

"That's nice to hear," Leonard said, smiling, "I'm glad to have instilled a lifelong love of science in you."

Calvin had lost his wife, his children, the one thing he had left was science, and he rarely considered it but he was, in fact, grateful for that, and now here was Mr. Wattson once more, giving him something else to do with his life. He was the man who kept on giving, it seemed.

                                                                                                         ***

Wyatt and Scarlett were parked in a lot, eating messily from the burgers they'd picked up at a small, hole in the wall burger place that looked good, and boy were they happy they had, because it was indeed delicious. Wyatt wiped his mouth with his napkin and glanced at his wife, who was sinking her teeth into the center of her burger and he smiled. God she was beautiful.

"Mona asked me about makeup," he said.

"Yeah?" Scarlett asked, chewing, "I hope she was able to give you some pointers."

Wyatt laughed and reached into their shared fry box, grasping a handful and shoveling them into his mouth.

"Why'd she wanna know about makeup?" Scarlett asked.

"Cause she wanted to know why people wore it. She said you didn't need it," Wyatt said, "and frankly I agree with her. I mean, don't get me wrong, I like it when you look like a cheap french harlot, but I also like when you look natural."

Scarlett cracked up and pressed her head against the window, laughing as Wyatt lifted his drink to his lips and sipped.

"Well, thank you for your honesty," she finally managed to say between laughter, "to be honest, I never wanted to be wearing makeup at this stage in my life. I mean, I don't know. It's fun, it's like art, in a way, but at the same time it makes me feel like I'm just giving into The Man and what society expects from women, physically, you know? It's gross. It's demeaning. Good on Mona to recognize that so early on."

Wyatt nodded, taking another bite from his burger and looking out at the other parked motorists, doing the same. They never missed date night, and he wouldn't have missed this one for anything either. Even if their plans fell through, Wyatt and Scarlett always seemed to come through in one way or another in terms of finding backups. Wyatt put his burger down in its cardboard container and sighed, leaning back in the drivers seat.

"God...when did we get to be this age?" he asked quietly, "it still feels like we're teenagers ourselves. I can't believe we have a mortgage, and kids, and...fuck."

"I know," Scarlett replied, "it's crazy how much time passes without you even recognizing it."

"...are you happy? Like, with this life, and with me?" Wyatt asked, and Scarlett smiled, the took a napkin and wiped the lipstick from her lips and leaned in, kissing him.

"I really really am, man," she whispered, "I couldn't imagine my life any other way."

Wyatt smiled, putting his hand on her face and kissing her back. Wyatt had gotten lucky. He acknowledged this. He had a job thanks to his father, he had a house thanks to the job he got from his father, he was married to his high school sweetheart and had two kids. Most of the people he knew, Rachel and Calvin and Celia, they were struggling in some way, and Wyatt felt guilty for not struggling even slightly. Unless he counted with his conscience. Then he struggled intensely, because, after all,  he had blown up a man.

                                                                                                           ***

Kelly Schuester had never expected to get her best friend back.

As she prepared for bed that night - changed into her pajamas, did her oral hygiene routine and undid her braids - she couldn't help but think how lucky she really was. She got to do the job she always wanted, AND she got her best friend back to boot, PLUS an explanation for her behavior in the past. How many people get that? Not many, she assumed. Kelly sat down on her bed and set her alarm clock. She had to be back at work tomorrow morning, early, to determine the weather for everyone, but it didn't matter. And it didn't matter what the weather was like tomorrow. It didn't matter whether it was rainy and cloudy or a goddamned monsoon somehow. Because nothing could beat the weather she felt today. Today had been sunny, today had been bright, today had been lovely.

Today had been a lovely day to be alive for.

"See, he's shallow, all he cares about is her body! Did you notice how, immediately after they had their little pool date, he was nowhere near as smitten with her and just because she had stress marks and stuff? Oh no, a woman who's given life to a child! How disgusting!" Scarlett said as she and Wyatt lay on the couch, eating ice cream cones and flipping through channels.

"You're not wrong. She was charming, she was smart, and honestly, even with the stretch marks, she was in way better shape than most moms seem to be," Wyatt said, "course, nowhere near as good shape as the mom I'm married to, but."

"Awww, you dweeb," Scarlett said, giggling as she finished her ice cream cone while Wyatt - who had finished a few minutes earlier - was massaging her feet in his lap. He blushed at her affection and kept massaging her feet just as they heard their son start crying from upstairs. They both sighed, glancing at one another. This had been a problem for a while now, and neither were sure how to break him of the habit. Scarlett pulled her legs off Wyatt's lap and swung them over the side of the couch, heading upstairs as Wyatt picked up the remote and kept flipping through channels, eventually landing on the local news, where he saw a blonde woman with braces and pigtails, in a nice suit, in front of a weather map.

"That's how things are shaping up for this week, it looks like a beautiful time to be outside, get some fresh air, even with the potential light showers ahead," she said, "I'm Kelly Shuester, and that's the weather. Back to you Adam."

The camera cut to the front news desk, where a middle aged, yet attractive news anchor named Adam Lebarbara turned towards the camera and smiled, nodding.

"Well, even after months of silence, one group is still protesting downtown constantly, and that group calls themselves The Evergreens. Dedicated to protecting our cities natural resources, they've hailed local, Oliver Brighton, as a hero for the environment, even in light of his despicable actions. They see his sacrifice as a necessary one. Here's Stacy with-"

Wyatt immediately muted the television, just as the phone rang. He leaned to the side table by the couch and answered.

"Y'ello?" he said, sighing, "yeah...yeah I saw."

"This is ridiculous," Rachel said on the other end of the line, "how can they call him a hero after what he did? Did his supposedly singular act of heroism for the environment somehow alleviate the guilt of the crime of killing his goddamned family? Bullshit."

"Well," Wyatt said, scratching his stubble, "nobody listens to them, so they're just shouting to the wind. It's nothing to worry about. What're you doing tomorrow?"

"Nuffin'," Rachel said, shoving a handful of chips in her mouth, "you wanna do something?"

"Sure. Scarlett's going to spend the day with her mother and she's taking our son, so Mona, you and I could go miniature golfing or something," Wyatt said.

"That sounds cool, just gimme a call," Rachel said.

Wyatt hung up the phone and sighed heavily, looking back at the TV screen, where Brighton's image was plastered as the reporters discussed the situation with Grudin, the murders, and the environmental disasters that'd been adverted as a result of everything. Wyatt couldn't watch this. He picked up the remote again and flipped channels, winding up on one of the softcore adult channels they had as Scarlett came back in, smirking as she climbed onto the couch again with him.

"Oooh, watcha doin'?" she asked.

"Not what you think, that's what," Wyatt said, laughing.

"Could we be?"

"We sure could," he replied, as Scarlett climbed on top of him and kissed him, Wyatt's hand reaching behind and slightly overhead, shutting off the floor lamp beside the couch.

                                                                                                           ***

The following afternoon, while Sun Rai was at work and Scarlett was, indeed, shopping with her mother, Wyatt and Rachel - with Mona tagging along - headed to a local miniature golf course that Wyatt had frequented before. He and Mona met Rachel in the parking lot after they'd parked, and then together they all headed inside together, Mona running ahead of them excitedly.

"I remember when I used to enjoy things that much," Rachel said.

"That's a sad sentence," Wyatt replied, both of them chuckling.

"You know what I mean, man, like...like being young and carefree," Rachel said, "always looking forward to something. Now I look forward to avoiding things. Adulthood is just a never ending attempt to find ways out of enduring it on a day to day basis."

"Awww!" they heard Mona groan, and looked up towards her as she came walking back up to them, somewhat sullen.

"What is it pumpkin?" Wyatt asked.

"The airplane isn't working!" she said, annoyed, crossing her arms.

"The airplane?" Rachel asked.

"One of the holes here is a sort of animatronic airplane that goes up and down in front of a hole," Wyatt said, "well, we can just skip that hole, but I'm sorry. I know it's your favorite. What are all these people doing here?"

Rachel shrugged, confused, as they headed to the ticket booth to procure clubs, balls and give payment. Once there, Wyatt looked at the irritated looking teenager behind the glass, and read her nametag, smiling.

"Hiya Peggy," he said, "we'd like to golf, us and my daughter."

"That'll be 14.50," Peggy said.

As Wyatt dug into his wallet for the money, Rachel, who was chewing her nails, glanced over her shoulder again and then looked back at Peggy.

"Hey, what's with everyone outside with the signs?" she asked.

"It's the Evergreens," Peggy said, placing their clubs and balls on the counter, "they've been here for the last week and, frankly, it's gone past humorous to outright annoying."

"Why...why would they be here?" Rachel asked.

"Cause we want to expand, add onto the course, which of course means extending into an undeveloped piece of land and, of course, they hate that," Peggy said, "look, I'm not ubercapitalist, I think modern infrastructure and unchecked industrialization is as bad as anyone else rightfully should, but I'm trying to do my goddamned job and the people they should be targeting are the local government, not us. I just work here on the weekends, man."

Wyatt laughed as he paid and grabbed their clubs and balls, as Rachel hit him on the arm. He looked at her, and noticed she was pointing back at the group, a few of which were holding signs with Brighton's picture on them and a slogan that said, "For a Brighton tomorrow!". Wyatt merely rolled his eyes, gathered Mona, and together they all headed inside to golf.

                                                                                                       ***

Calvin stumbled down the staircase, from his bedroom at the top, wearing an old blue robe over a white v-neck and a pair of boxers, when he noticed his father wasn't alone in the kitchen. He could hear another mans voice, and as his eyes adjusted to the light in the kitchen, he realized it was Leonard Wattson.

"Oh...Mr. Wattson, what...what are you doing here?" Calvin asked, yawning.

"Oh, I came by to see you, but you weren't up yet, so I figured I'd talk to your folks," he said, smiling politely and tapping the mug on the table between his palms and adding, "your father makes a great cup of coffee, Calvin."

"Can I have a cup of that?" Calvin asked, while his father got up and went to get another mug; as he poured coffee into it, Calvin looked from his dad to his former teacher, who seemed perfectly content sitting here in the kitchen of a former student, like this wasn't weird at all. After Barry gave Calvin his mug, he patted him on the shoulder and told him he'd give them some privacy, before exiting the kitchen. Calvin raised his mug to his lips and took a few sips, before finally exhaling, running a hand through his bedhead and looking Mr. Wattson square in the eye.

"What are you doing here?" Calvin asked, repeating his first question.

"Actually, Calvin, I was wondering if you were curious in doing a project together," Leonard said, "As I said at the college, I'm teaching, and I was wondering if you'd like to help now and then. I could even arrange to pay you, if you were curious. Be sort of a...a teacher for hire, hah."

"...well, I certainly could use the income," Calvin said.

"It's nothing serious," Leonard said, "just doing some filing, sometimes helping me with course projects, that kind of thing. Just figured you could use an excuse to get out of the house once in a while, do something you enjoyed, you know? Things have to be hard, considering."

Calvin smiled weakly, thinking about what Leonard had said. He wasn't wrong, it would be nice to get out of the house from time to time, have something to focus on besides his grief and his guilt. It would be nice to be somewhat distracted from the mundane existence of his day to day life. He nodded, looking back up at him now.

"I think that sounds like a fun idea," he said, "do you want to get some lunch, and we can discuss it more?"

"Sounds like a plan," Leonard replied, smiling warmly.

                                                                                                            ***

Celia was in her office, packing her things up to go to a meeting, when her new secretary, a young man named Randy, knocked on the door and opened it as he knocked. Celia looked up from her desk as he entered.

"Um, someone is here to-"

Wyatt walked in, outright ignoring his introduction, and Celia chuckled.

"Thank you Randy," she said, waiting until Randy exited before looking at Wyatt, who proceeded to wander around her office, looking at her decorative decor and her various degrees hung on the wall; after a few moments, Celia finally asked, "what are you doing here?"

"...so, you work the environment."

"Yes, it's true, I represent all of nature, I do pro bono for squirrels," Celia replied.

"You know what I mean," Wyatt said, turning to face her now, "...you hear about this group, Evergreen?"

Celia went quiet, then exhaled deeply. She adjusted herself in her chair and leaned back in her chair, folding her arms.

"Must be serious if this discussion requires that level of physicality," Wyatt said.

"I've been wondering when this would come up," Celia said, "truth is, I've been hoping you'd never come to me about it, but let me assure you that I'm already two steps ahead of you and six steps ahead of them."

"Wow, that's eight whole steps."

"Congratulations on passing basic 4th grade math," Celia said, smirking, "rest assured, nothing will come of it. They're annoying, but they won't be causing any issues, and besides, their beliefs regarding Oliver are so fringe nobody is taking them seriously, nor will they start to. They represent the worst facet of a good movement. That's why, when they came to me for legal counsel, I took them up on it. This way I can control the narrative. I can present weak cases in court, and keep them constantly under the laws thumb."

Wyatt was, admittedly, shocked. He finally pulled a chair over to the desk and sat in it, staring at her wide eyed.

"Excuse me what now?" he finally asked, "you're-"

"Yes, I am representing them, because if anyone else did, they might have a chance to be a thorn in our side. Wyatt, they considering Oliver a martyr, do you realize how far people who believe in martyrs will go to get others to believe in their martyr? To clear their martyrs name? That's...that's not something we want. This way, I can actively destroy their chances, then tell them 'well, the court isn't always fair', and they go back to picketing, looking nutty."

"...wow, I'm impressed," Wyatt said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the degrees on her wall and adding, "those aren't just for show, you actually did graduate law school."

"Imagine that!" Celia said, laughing, "trust me when I say I have our best interests at heart. There's nothing you have to worry about right now. I know it seems concerning, but really, nobody is going to listen to them when it comes to defending a man who killed his family."

Wyatt nodded, scratching the back of his head and then leaning forward, putting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands, crying, surprising Celia with this open expression of vulnerability.

"Wyatt?" she asked softly.

"why did we do this," he asked through his tears, his voice wavy, "why...why didn't i stop it? why didn't i stop Calvin? it's all spun so far out of control."

Celia stood up and walked around the desk, rubbing his back as she knelt by his chair.

"I know," she whispered, resting her head against his arm, "I know. I'm sorry. But we'll get through it. Nothing worse could happen, at least."

Oh if only she knew. If only she knew just how much worse would happen in just a few weeks.

                                                                                                          ***

Leonard Wattson pulled open the large steel rolling door, then stared at the inside of the storage unit, hands on his hips, sighing and shaking his head. He walked inside and lifted the lid off a large plastic tub, then looked inside. He reached in and pulled out a small photo album, then started flipping through it, admiring the shots. Shots Oliver had taken. Shots of...well...young girls. Leonard plopped the book down into the tub, then leaned against it and looked at the wall of VHS tapes, film reels and DVDs lined against the wall across from him.

Oliver had been the best. Oliver had pumped out the most in demand content from their clients, and it was always quality, premium stuff. Oliver never let his work slip, and he'd never be willing to let society know about his part in it. After all, he prided himself on being a 'family man'. To his neighbors, he was a loving father and husband. To his job, he was a dedicated craftsman. If only they knew the sick bastard he actually was. Leonard rubbed his hand down his face, exhaling. He didn't know where to turn for answers. All he knew was that he had to find something else to follow, some kind of lead, ANY kind of lead.

Then there was Brian. He had to contend with Brian on some level at some point, give him something concrete. Leonard had found the unit, thankfully, by pretending to be related to Brighton, but that was only a small step in the right direction. How was he going to haul all of this stuff back to the city? Back to his own studio? He could rent a truck, but what guarantee would he have of its safety, and his...privacy? Leonard slammed his fist against the plastic tub behind him, and groaned. Goddammit Oliver, he thought, you goddamn idiot. You've put us all in the sights of danger with your actions, intentional or not.

One day at a time. That's how he had to approach this. Tomorrow Leonard would go back to work, and start to approach the little sisters of the girls he had in his class. He had to start getting more girls on the payroll again. Had to make up for Brighton's losses resulting from his death. One day at a time.

Leonard finally pushed himself away from the tub and walked back to the door of the unit. He reached up and grabbed the bar, tugging it down, giving the contents one more solemn glace before he pulled it shut entirely and locked it again. He tucked the key back into his shirt pocket and buttoned it tight, patting it with his palm and smiling as he walked back down the hall, back towards his car in the lot.

So long as nobody else found the unit, he knew he'd be safe. But as Brighton's death had proved, nothing in life has guarantees.

"What even is perpetual motion?" Rachel asked as she and Calvin walked down an aisle made up of tables at a local college. This was the yearly science fair for anyone in the community to be involved in, and it was something that, for a long time, Calvin himself had been a part of. Nowadays, he simply liked to walk along and look at all the various entries from people in the neighborhood or attending the college.

Rachel continued, asking, "I mean, it has an extremely specific name, is it exactly what it sounds like? Or is it one of those deceptive names where they make it sound simplistic, but then when you read into it, learn about it, it's actually incredibly obtuse and complex, like most science?"

"Is most science obtuse and complex to you?" Calvin asked as they stopped at a table and Calvin looked at something.

"I mean, it wasn't my strongest subject in school," Rachel said, shrugging, making Calvin chuckle.

"Well, simply put, it's the motion of bodies that continues forever in an unperturbed system," Calvin said, "though in actuality, the idea of a machine based on this theory is impossible. People have theorized that they could make a machine that could do work infinitely without an external energy source, but this straight up violates the first and possibly second law of thermodynamics."

"Okay, look, if you're not going to respond to me like an ordinary human being, you can just tell me," Rachel said, folding her arms, smirking.

"Calvin?" a voice from behind asked, causing them both to turn and face an older looking man in a sweatervest with a long sleeved shirt beneath, ash colored slacks and loafers, short black hair and a pencil mustache. He was standing there with a clipboard, smiling.

"Uh...yes?" Calvin asked.

"It's...it's me, Mr. Wattson," the man said, "Leonard Wattson, I...I taught science over at the high school, you were in my class?"

"Mr. Wattson!" Calvin said, grinning, shaking his hand firmly, excitedly, "oh my god, what...what are you doing back in town? I heard you'd moved!"

"Yeah, well, sometimes it's fun to come home," Mr. Wattson said, "I've been teaching here for a few months now, just to supplement my income in addition to my retirement funds, pension and whatnot. Still interested in science I see?"

"Absolutely," Calvin said.

"And what about you? You interested in science too?" Mr. Wattson asked, politely looking at Rachel with a warm smile.

"Nah," Rachel replied, "I kinda have this weird crazy urge to have a social life."

With that, Rachel continued on her way, while Calvin and Mr. Wattson watched her go. Mr. Wattson looked at Calvin, who just shrugged.

"We're not close," Calvin said.

                                                                                                            ***

Wyatt and Mona were sitting in a small diner, having their usual weekend waffle feast. Every Sunday, Wyatt took Mona to a diner nearby and they each got a bottomless stack of waffles, then tried to see who would get tired of eating first. Wyatt was still in his first, but nearing the bottom of the plate, while Mona was already starting her third. The appetite on this kid, he swore, she was insatiable.

"Dad?" Mona asked after swallowing what she had in her mouth, "I need new shoes."

"You couldn't have told me this the day before you went back to school?" Wyatt asked.

"Well, I forgot," she said.

"Alright, we'll go get some shoes after breakfast," Wyatt said.

As they ate, they heard the bell over the diner door ring, but Wyatt didn't think anything of it until he looked up and noticed Rachel standing by the table. She looked down and smiled, waving at Mona, who waved gleefully back at her, before Rachel scooted into the booth next to Mona and picked up the coffee mug in front of Wyatt, sipping it.

"That's mine!" Wyatt said.

"I'll pay for your breakfast," Rachel said, continuing to drink from it, before making a face and asking, "god, do you load this up with sugar?"

"I like my sweets," Wyatt said, "why, how do you drink your coffee?"

"Black, obviously," Rachel said, "like a real adult."

"Yeah? You smoke cigars in a trenchcoat while drinking that?" Wyatt asked, making her laugh.

"Is coffee good?" Mona asked, looking from her father, then to Rachel.

"Well," Rachel said, "not for children. It's better for adults. See, when you get older, you lose all the ability to have energy, because by the time you're our age, your bones and your muscles have given up completely and now you need all the help you can get. Enjoy your youth while you can, because before you know it, you won't even be able to get out of bed without the help of a walker."

"You could've just lied to me," Mona said quietly, making the adults laugh.

"So," Wyatt asked, stuffing waffle into his mouth from the end of his fork, "what are you doing here anyway?"

"Eh, Sun's spending the weekend with her folks, so I'm just putzing about, seeing what's going on with everyone," Rachel replied, "went to this little science thing with Calvin earlier at the college, but I'm not that interested in science. One of his teachers from high school works there now, I guess, so that was awkward. What are your plans?"

"Well, after waffle wednesday-"

"It's Sunday," Rachel said, interrupting.

"Yeah but that's not alliterative and therefore it sounds stupid, so, after Waffle Wednesday, we're going to go to the mall and get Mona some new shoes for school, and then, who knows, the day is open with possibilities," Wyatt said, "why, you wanna come?"

"Can you come?" Mona asked excitedly.

Ever since Rachel and Scarlett had started doing painting together, and thus Rachel had begun teaching Mona how to channel her feelings through painting as well, she had become extremely attached to Rachel, something everyone, Rachel especially, found incredibly endearing. Rachel looked at Wyatt, who just shrugged, before she looked back at Mona and agreed to tag along on their little weekend excursion. Better than spending her time at a science fair, she figured.

                                                                                                        ***

"I heard about your family," Mr. Wattson said, shaking his head, "I am so so sorry, Calvin."

He and Calvin had found a small table in the cafeteria and had gotten some food and seated themselves there for a bit. Mr. Wattson was here to judge, so he did have to eventually get back to work, but he figured he could take some time off for his favorite former student. Calvin just bit into the sandwich he'd gotten from the vending machine and shrugged.

"I mean, these things happen," Calvin said.

"Well, sure, but that doesn't make it easier or any more fair. Either way, you don't deserve to live with that pain," Mr. Wattson said, adjusting his tie, "how have you been since that happened? I hear you're living with your folks."

"Yeah," Calvin said, "living at home, doing science projects in my dads shed."

"Where's your sister? She was always entertaining," Mr. Wattson asked, chuckling.

"...she doesn't live here anymore," Calvin said, "let's just leave it at that. I was going to group meetings for a while, ya know, like a grief support group, someplace downtown...but that only made me feel even worse. I've learned how to cope on my own. It is what it is. Nothing I can do to change it. Besides, Grudin got what he deserved."

Mr. Wattson's eyes widened at the name of Grudin.

"Grudin? Robert Grudin? The...he was the politician that was blown up a few months back, right?" Mr. Wattson asked.

"I shouldn't have said that. What happened was awful, but still, a small part of me can't help but feel vindicated when the guy who killed my family, even if by accident, was killed himself. Shows there's some level of karmic justice in the world," Calvin said, chewing while Mr. Wattson took a long sip from his thermos.

"Understandable," Mr. Wattson said, "do you know anything about the guy who did it?"

"Oliver Brighton? Other than he went to school with us, not really," Calvin said, shrugging, hoping he sounded sincere, "I know that he killed his family after he was fired, and he blamed Grudin for his firing. I mean, everyone knows Grudin was so into big business that if big business was a person he'd have slept with it. It's no secret he was planning on doing major restructuring of the cities remaining parks, outright shutting a lot of them down."

"Environmental assassin," Mr. Wattson said, chewing his lip, "so you think Brighton blamed Grudin, was fired, arranged for Grudins death, then offed himself and his family as a follow up? That's...that's some sick, heavy shit, not gonna lie."

"Well, like I said, I'm not invested or anything, but I am glad to know the man who took my life from me is also rotting underground," Calvin said, making Mr. Wattson nod, chuckling.

"Sometimes it's important to be just a little nasty," Mr. Wattson replied, "it helps ease the pain. Doesn't make a lot of sense though, does it? I mean, I taught Brighton, he wasn't - unlike his name implied - the brightest kid when it came to science. How could he build a bomb by himself? I mean, I know the internet is chock full of guides, and you can find books on the subject, but I have to imagine he had some sort of accomplice."

"I personally couldn't imagine standing to work with him," Calvin said, "nobody wanted to be his lab partner in school, why would they now?"

Mr. Wattson nodded, stroking his mustache. Calvin raised a good point. Maybe all this time he'd spent here had been for naught. Maybe he was wrong in thinking Brighton had been framed. Maybe Brighton really had killed Robert Grudin, and maybe that was that. Besides, no charges had been brought forward since his death, and there hadn't even really been an investigation as far as Mr. Wattson could tell. He broke his train of thought and looked back at Calvin, smiling again.

"You know Calvin," he said, "I'm running a small get together every week here at the college, it's for locals interested in science. You should come on by! It's on Friday nights, and it's always a great time. I think you'd fit in just fine!"

"I appreciate that," Calvin said, "I really do. I don't have much of a social life these days."

Well, that wasn't true. It's just that the social life he had...he couldn't really talk about, considering what they'd done.

                                                                                                             ***

Rachel was admiring a pair of tall, black spiked heels, while Mona tried on her third pair of shoes at a nearby bench. Rachel felt Wyatt suddenly walk up beside her, looking at the shoe with her as she stuffed it back into the box. Wyatt shook his head, which made Rachel curious.

"What?" she asked.

"Would've looked good on you," he said, "maybe I'll get 'em for Scarlett. She loves shoes like that."

"I don't think I really have the legs to pull of stuff like that," Rachel said.

"Well, we can't all dress like lesbian gym teachers," Wyatt said, making her laugh as she hit him in the chest lightly; he continued, "honestly, heels hurt. I know, I wore a pair of Scarlett's heels once for...well, I actually don't think this is an appropriate place to discuss it, but they hurt."

"I prefer comfort, you know?" Rachel asked, picking up another box and pulling the lid off, "Mona would understand."

Mona did, in fact, understand. For Mona to buy a new pair of shoes, they had to not be too snug, but not too lose, and she couldn't have laces, so they had to be either slip ons or velcro, and she often didn't like the sound of velcro, so that was usually out. They also couldn't feel tighter while wearing socks. Ever since her diagnosis, Mona had become increasingly in tune with her sensory, which Wyatt thankfully helped her navigate.

"Well, I didn't actually come by to shop for shoes," Rachel said quietly, "I actually came to talk to you about Calvin. He's...he's holding it together pretty well, but you can tell he feels guilty. I'm starting to worry about his ability to keep everything under wraps. We should have a...contingency plan."

"...are you suggesting-"

"I'm not suggesting anything in particular other than we come up with some sort of fallback, just on the offchance, which likely won't happen anyway but it doesn't hurt to be prepared, that Calvin snaps at some point," Rachel said, pushing some of her hair from her eyes and back behind her ear, adding, "that's all I'm saying."

Wyatt glanced back over his shoulder at his daughter, then sighed and looked back at Rachel.

"So what do you suggest then? I mean, we can't-"

"Again, not suggesting anything in particular, just putting forth the notion that it might be a good idea to keep tabs on him and come up with a contingency plan of some kind," Rachel said, "right now he seems okay, but he's talked to me on a few occasions about how he's felt ever since it happened, and...he doesn't sound good, Wyatt."

"Well, I'll talk to him," Wyatt said, "don't worry, nothing will come of it."

"Dad! I hate shoes! Shoes are the worst!" Mona shouted from behind them.

                                                                                                           ***

Mr. Wattson entered his apartment and sighed, pulling his sweatervest off over his head and placing it gently on the back of a chair before heading over to the landline phone hanging on the wall of his kitchenette. He picked it up and dialed, then stood against the wall, tapping his foot on the floor until someone finally answered.

"Is this Brian?" Mr. Wattson asked, "it's Leonard. I have nothing of note to say, just phoning to say hi, and see how things are holding up over there. You think it's....yeah? Yeah, okay. I was wondering when we could start up production again. Definitely, some of the girls in my class have little sisters, and I bet I could entice them to be interested for the right price. Alright, well, I'll do some scouting and get back to you."

Mr. Wattson hung up and sighed. He pulled his glasses off his face and wiped them on a hankerchief he kept in his pocket, then slid them back up his nose. He put his hands in his pockets and walked over to his closet in the hall. He slid open the door, pulled out a suitcase, and pulled out a disc. He walked over to his desktop computer, inserted the disk and opened it on the screen, where he was flooded with a litany of images and videos, all of which Brighton had created for him.

What did Brighton get himself involved in? How could this have happened? He'd helped Mr. Wattson create an empire of filth, and now his best working man was gone, and all because of a feud with a local politician? Leonard wanted to scream, but he knew being angry would get him nowhere. He just would have to shut down Brighton's operation, take his work from wherever he'd hidden it, and leave town as quickly as possible. He thought about Calvin, how Calvin might be willing to help him. Calvin seemed unconcerned with Grudin's death, and unconnected to Brighton, so perhaps he might be the right person to help him find out where Brighton had stashed his work.

He'd think about it more in the morning over breakfast.

Leonard shut his computer down, stood up and headed to his bedroom. He put his glasses on the side table, then put on his pajamas and climbed into bed. He'd have to hire someone new, someone he could trust, to eventually replace Brighton. Someone with just as low morals as Brighton himself had had. Leonard Wattson had a lot of work ahead of him, and he wasn't happy about it. At least he had his day job to keep him occupied.

After all, they say the satisfaction more than makes up for the lousy pay of teaching.

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.

                                                                                1 MONTH EARLIER

Wyatt hadn't had a good nights sleep in months.

He'd tried a dozen different sleep aides, he'd done the classics, like drinking warm milk - despite his utter disgust for milk in general - and he and Scarlett had even started having sex extremely frequently simply because they knew it would tire them out. Unfortunately for Wyatt, while Scarlett managed to fall asleep relatively soon after their nightly bouts of passion, Wyatt instead tossed and turned, opting eventually to climb out of bed, drag himself downstairs, and watch old classic westerns and horror movies on TV. Sometimes Mona would wake up and they would sit and watch movies together, just having some father/daughter bonding time. In actuality, while he did hate not sleeping, he was appreciative of the time he was managing to spend with his daughter.

This particular morning, he was standing in the kitchen pouring himself a large mug of coffee when Scarlett entered and kissed his neck from behind, making him blush. She then patted him on the butt and headed to the stove, turned it on and pulled eggs and bacon from the fridge, plopping them on the counter.

"You know," she said, "I think I've lost weight since we started having sex so much. Do I look thinner to you?"

"That's a question I've learned not to answer," Wyatt said, making Scarlett laugh.

"No, really! I look good, man," she replied, "It's better than going to the gym, honestly. It's like swimming a ton of laps all at once."

"You're not just using me to get in better shape, are you? Am I just exercise equipment to you?" Wyatt asked as he stood opposite of her on the island. Scarlett leaned over the island grabbed his face, squeezing his cheeks a little and smiling at him.

"Oh, don't pretend you don't love it, my little trophy husband," she said, making him laugh. Wyatt pulled up a chair and sat at the island. The kids were at his mothers for the weekend, and he didn't have many plans. He figured he might go into the store, do some inventory, maybe get lunch and bring it home so he and Scarlett could eat together. He pulled his cell phone out and checked his texts, but didn't see much of anything of interest, until he noticed he had 4 missed calls from Rachel. This caught his interest, because why would Rachel call him that regularly? Something had to be wrong. He sighed and dialed it, then, phone tucked under his chin, he picked up his mug again and opened the sliding glass door that led to the backyard and stepped onto the porch, shutting the door behind him.

"Hello?" Rachel answered.

"You called me. Actually you called me a handful of times," Wyatt said, taking a sip from his mug, "anything going on?"

"Not particularly," Rachel said, "I just was curious what you were up to and if you and Scarlett wanted to join Sun Rai and I for dinner tonight."

"Where are you going? Cause I gotta tell ya, I'm not a huge fan of mexican food," Wyatt said.

"We don't know yet. We were thinking something a bit more ethnic, or does that make you uncomfortable, being the white honky you are?" Rachel asked, making Wyatt laugh loudly.

"No, that...that's fine, just call me back and let me know where and when," he said.

After hanging up, he heard the glass door slide open again, and Scarlett handed him a piece of bacon as she took a seat in one of the lounge chairs, soaking up the hot morning sun. She exhaled, relaxing, as Wyatt stood and watched her, munching on his bacon and occasionally sipping his coffee. Nothing could change what he'd been a part of, he knew this, and as such the last 3 months had been relatively odd, considering, but he knew to take his breathers where he could get them and today one of those was right here, watching his wife enjoy the warmth. He wouldn't trade that for anything in the world.

                                                                                                   ***

"God, this story just keeps getting worse everytime, I swear," Calvin's father, Barry, said as he sat at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper; he rustled it a bit and added, "seems like twice a week they uncover something that just adds to the ridiculousness of it all. I mean, sure, Grudin was a self serving jerk who wasn't interested in helping the community, but that doesn't mean he should've been murdered."

Ever since the Grudin incident, his parents had talked about it endlessly, and while they did, Calvin just had to sit there and pretend he didn't know anything. Pretend he didn't have a major hand in the mans demise. He ate his cereal in silence as his mother, Amelia, finished cooking breakfast for herself and Barry and setting the plates down on the table before seating herself and starting to eat.

"They robbed that poor little challenged girl of her father," Amelia said, mouthful of eggs, "that, to me, is the worst part of it all."

"He was scum," Calvin finally muttered, making his parents look at him and, sadly, remember the accident. Amelia leaned over and patted Calvin on the forearm, nodding.

"I know sweetheart, I know, I'm sorry," she said, "but his death isn't bringing them back. If anything, it's only created a void much like you have now, and-"

"How? How the hell's it create the same kind of void?" Calvin asked, tossing his spoon down into his bowl and speaking sternly now, feeling annoyed, "she at least still has her daughter. I don't have anything. I'm not going to feel remorse for a man who did horrible things, who lied to the very people he sought election from. Fuck Robert Grudin. I'm glad he's dead."

With that, Calvin stood up and exited the room, heading upstairs to his bedroom. Amelia looked at Barry and sighed, shaking her head.

"Maybe he should go back to therapy," she said softly.

"I don't think that's gonna fix a thing," Barry said, "I mean, he shouldn't keep his emotions bottled up, sure, but I think we're far beyond anything therapy could be beneficial towards. I don't know what could help him, but therapy isn't it. Maybe we should set him up with someone. Maybe if he just met someone new that would do him some good, you know? Get out of the house, get his mind occupied with someone else?"

"Perhaps," Amelia said, "...but he loved that woman so deeply, I doubt that-"

"He doesn't deserve to live his entire life in pain," Barry said, "nobody does."

But Calvin, unbeknownst to his folks, didn't mind living his entire life in pain. Pain he understood. Pain was eternal. If there was anything he'd taken away from the death of his family it was that happiness was fleeting and could be stolen in an instant. That joy was never guaranteed. Sitting on his bed, crying into his hands, Calvin liked the pain. The pain was a companion. That's the thing about loss nobody ever tells you, is that sure it creates a void, but eventually that void becomes your friend. Calvin didn't know what he'd do without that void now, and he didn't wanna try and find out.

                                                                                                        ***

Wyatt discussed with Scarlett about dinner, and she thought it sounded like a lovely idea, so he called Rachel back, and they made a plan to meet at a place downtown called Smokem's, a pretty popular BBQ bar and grill, at about 7 that night. This gave Wyatt plenty of time to get some things done before dinner, along with Scarlett, who wanted to shower and pick out something nice to wear. Wyatt grabbed his keys off the table by the door as Scarlett was grabbing a towel from the nearby linen closet in the downstairs hall, and they looked at one another, smiling momentarily.

"Where you going?" Scarlett asked.

"I wanna run into the store, get some stuff done quick before we go," he said, "I won't be gone long."

"Okay, I'll be here," Scarlett said, heading up the stairs to their bathroom before adding, "you can join me in the shower when you get back."

Wyatt blushed and grinned, as he exited the house and headed to his car. He climbed in, started the engine and started to pull out of the driveway. Wyatt hadn't been working much lately, taking advantage of his built up vacation time, simply so he could unwind from what he'd been a part of, so seeing him in the store had actually become somewhat of a rare occurrence. Either way, when he entered, Ben, who was manning the counter training the new girl, briskly walked over to him and handed him a clipboard stacked with papers.

"What's all this?" Wyatt asked, licking his thumb and going through them slowly as they headed back to his office.

"A lot of it is just acquisition requests, companies asking us what we need and how much, you know, ordering manifests and stuff. There's also some stuff from your dad in there, but I put it at the back, since, ya know, he sucks," Ben said, making Wyatt chuckle.

"Thanks," Wyatt replied, unlocking his office door and entering, Ben behind him, before asking while he pulled his jacket off, "so how's the new girl working out? Seems kinda young."

"She's a sophomore in high school but she was eager," Ben said, shrugging, "can't deny someone who's willing to put in the time and effort. She just seemed like the best choice for the job."

"Fair enough," Wyatt said.

Ben nodded, smiled, and headed back to the counter as Wyatt seated himself behind his desk and plopped the clipboard in front of him. He grabbed a pen from the little bowl on his desk and uncapped it, starting to fill things out and put his signature on stuff when the door re-opened, but, instead of Ben, this time Celia entered. Wyatt immediately put the pen down and sat up to attention as she sat down across from him, rubbing her forehead.

"You okay? Were you...were you waiting for me to come in?" he asked.

"Yes," Celia said, "and everything is...I don't know whether it's okay or not. I mean, nothing immediate is of concern, but I feel...gross. Everyday I feel gross. I've been having nightmares lately, it's been unpleasant."

"I'm sorry. For what it's worth you aren't alone. I haven't been sleeping well myself," Wyatt said, picking his pen back up and continuing to sign papers as he continued, "but that's not the same, I guess. I'll take poor sleep over nightmares anytime. Hopefully you haven't been keeping up with the papers and news and such. These articles, man...they're too much to handle."

"I'm not an idiot, Wyatt, I know what reading or hearing that stuff would do to me," Celia said, "my conscience is already on the brink of despair. Stupid conscience."

"Well," Wyatt said, lowering his voice and looking up from his desk, "he's gone. He's gone and that's all that matters, and they still think Brighton did it. By all accounts, we're in the clear. It's been three months, Celia, I don't think anything is coming back on us. Have you talked to Calvin?"

Celia shook her head as she sipped from the water bottle she'd brought in with her. After capping it and setting it back in her lap she sighed.

"I haven't. I mean, I talked to him maybe a week after, you know, it happened, but he was....morose isn't the right word, but I'm not sure what it is so morose will have to do," she said, "but it was his idea, honestly. He's the one who wanted Grudin dead."

"Maybe he feels guilt. We didn't know he had..." Wyatt said, before stopping himself, "we didn't know he had a family. We didn't know what he'd be leaving behind. Still, doesn't make what he was doing alright."

"They're calling Brighton a hero," Celia whispered, and this caught Wyatt's attention.

"...pardon? How does supposedly blowing a man up make one a hero?"

"You are aware of the military worship in this country, are you not?"

"Shut up," he said, chuckling, "who's...who's been saying that?"

"Some fringe environmental papers," Celia said, "because of what Grudin was planning to do to the city parks and infrastructure if elected. Either way nobody else is repeating their claims, not yet anyway, but still...it's...alarming, to say the least. He was an innocent, he didn't even know what he'd gotten involved in. That doesn't excuse him killing his family and himself, but still."

"Look, much as I love a light hearted discussion," Wyatt said, making Celia smirk, "I have other things to do today and then Scarlett and I are going to dinner. Do you think we could meet sometime this week and talk about this more in depth somewhere else? Or, hell, even here, I don't care."

"Definitely," Celia said, standing up and tugging her purse strap over her shoulder. She headed for the door, but once her hand was on the knob she stopped and looked back at Wyatt, asking, "...did we do the right thing?"

"What even IS the right thing, Celia?" Wyatt asked, "Morality is subjective. Just ask any differing religions and you'll get a vaguely categorical answer. We did what we thought was right, and it might not actually make it right, but we did it for what we think was the greater good, and our intentions are what was in the right place, whether our actions were or not. When you start to feel guilty or responsible or anything, just remember, this was what Calvin wanted. Grudin killed his wife and daughter in a drunk driving accident, and this was what Calvin wanted. We didn't do this. Calvin did it. Don't forget that."

Celia nodded, then opened the door and exited, leaving Wyatt to his tasks. However, he no longer felt the urge to do much, so instead he powered through the paperwork, then told Ben he was leaving again. When he got home, he did indeed join Scarlett in the shower, and that more than made up for his time in the office.

                                                                                                        ***

Smokem's was crowded, but that only further proved the quality of their food to Wyatt. When he and Scarlett entered, they were led to their table, where Rachel and Sun Rai were already seated, eating cornbread and drinking. Or, at least, Rachel was drinking, since Sun Rai was the one who was going to drive home. Wyatt pulled his suit jacket off and placed it on the back of his chair before pulling out Scarlett's chair for her, then seating himself.

"Oooh, what a gentleman," Rachel said mockingly, making him laugh.

"I can't help it, my momma raised me to be kindly to the ladies," Wyatt said with a fake southern drawl, "how long have you guys been here? Hopefully you haven't been waiting too long."

"No, only about fifteen minutes, long enough to get bread," Rachel said.

"It took fifteen minutes to get bread? God, I wonder what the actual wait time for your meal proper is," Scarlett said, giving her drink order to a waitress before looking at Sun Rai and asking, "so, what have you been up to? I don't think we've seen you in like a month."

"I've been busy," Sun said, "honestly, I thought going back to school would be easy, but boy it's anything but. I'm so tired all the time. I thought once I got out of school I'd never have to wake up that early again."

"You wouldn't, if you didn't re-enroll to college like a loser," Wyatt said, making everyone laugh, before his eyes, scanning the restaurant, caught something interesting...Calvin, here with a woman. Wyatt tried to ignore it, but it was so out of place, that he didn't know he could.

"But it's going well," Sun Rai said, "It's nice to not be the best simply because I'm Asian and it's expected of me, you know? I don't wanna be the minority poster child. I just wanna be a normal adult woman who happens to be in college again."

Calvin, only half listening, nodding as though he were following. He watched Calvin intently, until he noticed he excused himself from the table and headed into the bathroom. Wyatt immediately did the same, and headed for the restroom as well. When he entered, he didn't see Calvin anywhere, so he knelt down and noticed only one pair of shoes in a stall, indicating they were the only two people in the bathroom. Wyatt leaned against the counter and crossed his arms before clearing his throat.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Jesus!" Calvin shouted from in the stall, "that's terrifying, don't do that!"

After a moment the door opened and Calvin came out, zipping up before heading past Wyatt to the sink and washing his hands.

"If you must know, my parents stupidly set me up tonight," Calvin said, "and since I can't say no to them, I guess I had no choice but to be here."

"She's pretty," Wyatt said, "you getting along?"

"Frankly, Wyatt, I'm not particularly interested in dating," Calvin said, "once your spouse dies, believe it or not, it really puts the futility of romance into question. What about you? You just like BBQ or you checking up on me?"

"I didn't even know you were here, remember? I'm just double dating with Rachel and her girlfriend," Wyatt said, "...I saw Celia today. She asked about you."

"She did?"

"Yeah," Wyatt said, "said you weren't doing great the last time you two talked. We're just worried, man. You doing alright?"

Calvin leaned against the counter and nodded, before starting to cry, finally letting it release. Wyatt rubbed his back as Calvin sobbed, breathing hard.

"I thought killing him would make me feel better," Calvin said, "but it didn't. Nothing's made my life any better just because he doesn't have a life anymore. My wife and daughter are still dead. All we did was hurt someone unintentionally."

"Yeah, I...I know," Wyatt said quietly, "I saw his daughter on the news too."

"...what do I do, Wyatt?" Calvin asked.

"A hobby? Therapy? I don't know, Calvin, but you don't have to go through it alone, alright? We're here for you, we did this together, we're friends," Wyatt said, patting him on the shoulder, "isn't there anything you like to do? Something to take your mind off stuff?"

"I used to participate in science contests," Calvin said, wiping his eyes on his sleeve, "I guess...I guess maybe you're right, maybe a hobby is necessary."

Calvin turned away from the sink and looked at Wyatt, before suddenly, albeit somewhat reluctantly, hugging him.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"Hey man, it's no problem," Wyatt said, hugging him back, smiling, "it's the least we can do for one another."

                                                                                                          ***

Leslie Grudin tucked her daughter into bed that night, read her a story and then, once she was asleep, kissed her on the forehead and headed into the living room. She pulled the cordless phone off its base and dialed a number before sitting down on her couch and waiting. After a few rings, someone finally answered.

"It's Leslie," she said, "...do we have any information? Anything new?"

"I told you I'd call you when I knew anything," the voice replied.

"I'm getting anxious," Leslie said, "someone has to have slipped up somewhere."

"There's a man in town," the voice said, "flew in the same night your husband died. He just happened to know the man who supposedly blew him up, that Brighton fellow. I'm keeping close tabs on him for the moment, but so far all he's done is come into town and get a teaching position at a local college. Certainly nothing unusual. Like I said, Leslie, when I know anything even remotely concrete, you will too."

"...okay," she whispered, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be a bother, I just...I miss him so much."

"I know you do, and trust me, we'll find out what really happened," the voice said, "I'm the best in this business."

Leslie nodded, thanked them for the reassurance and then hung up the phone. She sucked on her lip for a moment, then she picked the phone back up and dialed another number, but before she could finish calling her mother, she heard her daughter, Michelle, standing in the hallway and crying. Leslie put the phone down and looked at Michelle, standing there hugging her doll tightly.

"When is daddy coming home?" she asked weakly, and Leslie's heart broke more. She opened her arms up, and Michelle ran across the house to her mother, climbing up into her lap and crying on her as Leslie stroked her hair. It didn't matter what it took, it didn't matter what would happen if she succeeded, she was going to find out what really happened to her husband, and she was  going to make the person responsible pay for it. That much was clear.

Come hell or high water.

High school graduation is one of those things you never expect to actually happen.

You fixate on it for so long, you always imagine life after school, but you never really expect it to come, and when it does, so many students wind up completely unprepared and flapping in the wind mere months later. Leaning against the lockers, waiting for Scarlett to finish her makeup in the nearby bathroom, Wyatt was looking at his neatly manicured nails when he heard a snicker from beside him. He glanced and noticed Rachel Minnow sitting on the floor - also in her graduation gown - sitting there, doodling.

"What?" Wyatt asked, somewhat grinning.

"Nothing, just never seen a guy look at his nails the way you are," she replied.

"Oh, it's only cause my girlfriend did them so they'd look good today," Wyatt said, "I can see you're not a believer in proper hygiene though."

"Hey, my nails are perfectly fine, thank you," Rachel said, setting her pen down in her book and looking up and down the hall, sighing, adding, "it's weird, right? This whole thing is weird? The fact that come an hour or two from now, we'll no longer be students? Hell, we never have to be again if we don't want to. College isn't an outright requirement."

"This is true," Wyatt said.

"I never thought this would actually happen. School is so long, it just seems like it would go on indefinitely. I never really thought the day would come when I'd be an adult," Rachel said, "it's...scary."

"It is scary, yeah," Wyatt said, "but hey, look at it this way, school is full of assholes, right? So at least after today, we'll probably never see any of these people ever again. That's pretty good, right?"

Rachel thought for a moment, then nodded. It was good. She didn't like basically anyone at the school, save for Sun Rai, and after today she'd never have to interact with any of them ever again if she didn't want to. If only she knew that, ten years later, she'd be stuck right back with the people she vowed to never see again.

Life's funny that way.

                                                                                                      ***

Wyatt pulled up to Calvin's house early that morning. Calvin was disheveled, wearing sunglasses, and had a plastic grocery bag full of snacks. Wyatt smirked as he climbed into the car and Calvin pulled off his sunglasses momentarily, smirking.

"What?" he asked.

"Didn't realize we were goin' on a picnic," Calvin said.

"Hey, we can't just blow him up immediately, it needs to be remote detonated, but it has to happen at the most random time, so we might be here for a while. You're free to have some of what I brought," Calvin said as he buckled his seatbelt.

Calvin started up the car and began pulling away, heading to Grudin's first Tuesday stop, his local bank. As Calvin sipped his coffee, he sighed and looked at the styrofoam cup in his hands. It had come from Rachel's place of work, and he smiled. How weird it was, to be here ten years later, with the same exact people. He glanced over at Wyatt and cleared his throat as they pulled to a red light.

"You ever think about the fact that we barely spoke in school and now, here we are, about to commit a murder together?" Calvin asked.

"Please, let's not call it a murder. It's a mercy killing," Wyatt said.

"Whatever verbage you need to use to soften the blow to your morality is fine with me, I just think it's weird," Calvin said, "you know...I just never really thought I'd see you or anyone from school ever again, and yet here we are. Not that we ever interacted much in school, but still. The whole idea is weird, but I guess that's what happens when people never leave the town they went to school in."

"I always sort of assumed that I'd have left this place at this point in my life," Wyatt said, "Never wanted to work for my dad, but I couldn't resist the offer, especially once Scarlett got pregnant. He quite literally made me an offer I couldn't refuse."

Calvin chuckled as he reached into the bag and pulled out a travel sized bag of chips, pulling it open as Wyatt continued.

"Believe me, if I could've just taken Scarlett and run for the hills, I would've in an instant," Wyatt said.

"I couldn't stand being that far away from my parents, they're my best friends," Calvin said.

"That's sweet."

"Especially after losing my wife and kid, they're really the only ones I feel like I can depend on," Calvin said, "besides, what with my sister having run off, I couldn't leave them completely childless like that. It would just be outright cruel. We need eachother."

"Well, you're lucky," Wyatt said, "...wish I was blowing my dad up instead."

The red light turned green, and Wyatt sped off, heading towards the bank.

                                                                                                ***

Sun Rai was making herself breakfast when the knock at her door, urgent sounding in its intensity, surprised her. She put the butter dish lid back on and headed to the front door, opening it to find Rachel standing on her porch. Each woman had the look of sheer surprise to see the other, but Sun Rai finally stepped aside and allowed Rachel inside the house.

"Your parents aren't here?" Rachel asked.

"No, my mother took my father to a doctors appointment," Sun Rai said, "Do you want some toast? I'm making toast."

"No, that's okay, thanks," Rachel said, walking down the hallway that connected the foyer to the rest of the house, looking at all the pictures of Sun Rai on the walls and smiling to herself, "...I guess this is kind of weird, right? Just showing up suddenly?"

"I did it to you, so it's only fair," Sun replied, making Rachel laugh.

"True, true," she said, "uh...god this is hard. Okay, so, like..."

Sun walked towards Rachel and Rachel stepped backward, stammering, blushing. She had so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted to admit, and yet she couldn't do it. Despite waiting literal years to have this discussion, dreaming it would never happen, she now somehow found herself woefully unprepared.

"You don't have to say anything," Sun Rai said, and Rachel shook her head.

"No, no I have to, I have to say that I have been in love with you since high school and that I never could've expected you would feel the same way about me and that I'm terrified and-"

"I never have liked a woman before," Sun said, shrugging, "but there's something about you...so considerate and beautiful, so funny, I can't not like you. But you don't need to say anything about it, because I believe you. I believe it's hard to admit it, and I just want you to not feel you owe me any sort of explanation or anything, because you don't."

"I'm a screwed up lady, Sun. I...I gave up my dreams, I have some pretty severe mental health issues and I'm involved in some things I probably shouldn't be, but...I can't ignore a decades worth of feelings, you know? No matter how scared I might be, I just can't ignore the fact that you're here, that you actually like me, that we wound up working together. To ignore that would be like giving the middle finger to destiny."

Sun Rai threw her head back, laughing, which made Rachel feel better.

"I wanna try it," Rachel said, "If you want to."

"Of course," Sun Rai said, taking Rachel's hand and pulling her closer, then touching her face and pushing her lips against Rachel's. Rachel shut her eyes and kissed Sun Rai back, eager to finally, after a decade of fantasizing, taste her. Needless to say, it didn't disappoint. As the kiss ended, Rachel blushed, laughing nervously and looking at her feet.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, "I'm just...I'm not very good with romance."

"Come have some breakfast," Sun Rai said, leading her to the kitchen.

Rachel nodded, following happily. In the midst of all this bullshit, she could use some domesticity for a change.

                                                                                                     ***

Grudin's schedule on Tuesday saw him hit the local bank, then do a stopover from some light campaigning at a college before heading to lunch. They figured lunch would be the best spot. Something so ordinary and mundane would certainly made it seem less sketchy and suspicious that his car would randomly explode. He'd arrived early for lunch at his regular spot, a bar and grill called Rudy's, which meant Wyatt and Calvin were sitting in Wyatt's car across the parking lot, keeping a keen eye on both Grudin in the restaurant and his vehicle. Grudin always took a window seat, and Calvin had even made a map of the interior of the restaurant, marking which seat was his.

Wyatt shoveled chips from the bag into his mouth, wiping the dust on his pants and sighing. He glanced over at Calvin, who was making some kind of notes, and he adjusted his seat so he could lean back a bit, opening up the sunroof so he could feel the sun on his face as he relaxed. He knew he had to be alert, but he figured he could take a moment for a breather.

"At least he gets a full meal," Wyatt said.

"Alright, ya know what, you don't get any of my snacks anymore," Calvin said, "besides, he ordered nothing but a patty melt and a shrimp cocktail."

"Good last meal, actually," Wyatt said, picking at his teeth.

Calvin smirked and went back to looking through his binoculars. Wyatt readjusted his chair and sat back upright, holding the remote detonator in his hand and looking it over. He glanced from the remote to Calvin and raised an eyebrow.

"How did you learn to do all this?" Wyatt asked.

"Took shop class in high school," Calvin said, "that got me interested in building things, but I kind of fell off the interest once I got married and had a kid. Once Grudin killed my wife and child, I just knew I wanted him to suffer in a way as painful as they did, and blowing him up seemed like the easiest way, funny as that may sound. If we have remote detonator, how are they going to pin that on Oliver? I mean, wouldn't he have to be alive to detonate it?"

"Well, maybe he had an accomplice and after he died the accomplice still carried out the plan," Wyatt said, "in memory of his partner in crime."

"Mmm. Just seems like there's a lot of gaps in this situation," Calvin said, "but whatever."

"Grudin's a politician, and not a very well liked one at that despite doing well in the polls. I'm willing to bet that his family would prefer to have him buried and move on without much investigation," Wyatt said, "I mean, politicians make a ton of enemies. Is it really worth the effort to track down all the possible suspects?"

"You may be right."

Grudin paid his check, stood up and pulled his jacket on, then picked up his doggy bag of leftovers and headed for the door. Calvin snapped his fingers repeatedly and pointed to Grudin on the move. Wyatt sat upright now, clenching the remote in his hand, sweaty as sweaty could be.

"He's heading to his car," Calvin said.

"I don't think I can do it," Wyatt suddenly said, making Calvin look at him.

"What?!"

"I...I don't know," Wyatt said, "I feel...sick."

"This was your fucking idea!"

"I know, but...but I can't kill someone, I was...I was talking out my ass, and I..."

Calvin snatched the remote from Wyatt and snarled at him.

"I'll do it my fucking self then," he said angrily, but Wyatt fought for the control back, the two men now wrestling in the car. Grudin exited the restaurant and got into his car. He put his doggy bag on the passenger side seat, and then he attempted to start the car. Wyatt felt the control in his hand, and he instinctively clicked the button. It was all over so fast. The explosion was immediate, and afterwards, both men sat there in utter shock. They waited, afraid to drive away as that would look suspicious, so instead they slid down in their seats, hoping nobody would see them.

Unfortunately for them, they'd be there for a few hours, hearing the sirens get closer, and the people chatter.

                                                                                                     ***

Leslie Grudin was standing in her kitchen, preparing her daughter's late afternoon snack, the both of them singing along to the music on the radio. Their daughter, Michelle, was homeschooled thanks to a learning disability, and Leslie was happy to have her daughter around. The house got so lonely when Robert wasn't around, and she appreciated the company. As Leslie set down the plate of apple slices and cheese on the table, she stroked her daughters hair.

"There you go sweetheart," she said, "What are you drawing?"

"A picture for daddy," she said.

"I'm sure he'll love it," Leslie said, kissing the top of her daughters head and going back to the sink to wash her hands when she noticed the cop car pull up in front of the house. She continued smiling, thinking that was just where they were parking to visit someone else, never once considering that they were, in fact, there for her, to deliver the worst news of her life. It wasn't until the knock at the door that a knot formed in Leslie's stomach. She went to answer it, and there the cop stood on the porch.

"Can I help you?" she asked politely, her voice wavering nervously.

"Ma'am, I-" the cop started, until he noticed Michelle sitting at the table, "why don't you step outside?"

Leslie did as she was told, shutting the door behind her.

"What's going on?" she asked, her voice now stern, but still scared sounding.

"It's your husband," the cop told her, "there's been an...incident."

Whatever he said after that, Leslie didn't hear. All she knew was that Robert was never coming home, and that that picture their daughter had spent the afternoon drawing for him would never be seen. She listened to what the cop told her - an explosion of some kind, the car blown to bits - but she didn't really take any of it in. All she felt, after the initial coldness, was a growing rage. Oh sure, she'd expect the cops to try and figure out what happened, but she instinctively knew it was a vendetta of some kind, and she vowed to herself then and there that she'd rectify the situation.

No matter what it took.

                                                                                               ***

"Robert Grudin is out of the race for election," the news anchor said solemnly, "after his vehicle exploded abruptly this evening, and the hopeful potential elect was killed inside it. Police have their suspects, but no arrests have been made thusfar. The main suspect is also deceased. Still, the community mourns a man who could've been great for them, had one angry individual not taken him away from us. This is-"

The TV clicked off. Calvin leaned back against the couch, exhaling, as he rolled his head and looked over at Rachel who was seated on the couch alongside him. Rachel looked at Calvin, bit her lip and shook her head, then leaned forward and buried her face in her hands, running them up through her hair.

"...I can't believe this," she whispered, "I can't believe it happened. It all just seems so surreal."

"That mother fucker," Calvin muttered.

"What?" Rachel asked, turning and looking back at him.

"That was my goal, my decision, and he took it away from me. I was supposed to do it for my family, and he took my vengeance out of my hands," Calvin said, "mother fucker. I never liked him."

"Why?" Wyatt asked, stepping back into the living room, beer in hand, Celia right behind him; he sipped the beer then asked again, "inform me why you never liked me."

"Because you always had to be the center of attention!" Calvin said sternly, standing up now, almost face to face with Wyatt, adding, "and now look what you've done! Nobody asked you to do this for me! Nobody asked you to...to take away what was rightfully mine to do! He destroyed my family!"

"Calvin, I just saved you from a lifetime of prison, alright? Trust me, you would've been one of the first people they looked at. That situation was highly publicized, and you two were closely entwined. They would've come for you almost instantly. What I did was divert that attention to someone else, and give us a bit of breathing room to figure out what our next move is."

Wyatt sighed, wiped his mouth on his jacket sleeve then sat down on a nearby ottoman, Celia seating herself beside him.

"Now," Wyatt said, "...let's figure out a way to make sure this never comes back to us."

"They've already pegged Brighton as their main suspect, you heard them," Rachel said, "I mean...what else could we do to alleviate ourselves of any wrong doing?"

"We just need to get our stories straight, so everything lines up," Wyatt said, turning to Celia, "and if nothing else, we have a lawyer to back us up."

"An environmental lawyer, you idiot," Calvin said coldly.

"So...what do we do now?" Rachel asked.

"We make sure none of us deviate from the story, and we stay in close contact. If anyone comes asking anything, we deny everything. None of us were ever anywhere near Grudin, except Calvin from the accident, but otherwise we know nothing and had nothing to do with it. Until that day comes, and if that day comes, we go on with our lives, just like normal."

"Just like normal," Rachel said, echoing Wyatt softly, "right."

Whatever normal was, though, Rachel didn't know.

After the group split and went their respective ways, Calvin too left his house and drove to the cemetery. He picked up some flowers on the way, and when he arrived he walked through the mostly empty graveyard until he found his wife and daughters graves. He sat down between the two headstones and laid the flowers - splitting them in half - one each grave. Calvin looked up at the sky and thought about what had happened that day, and the last few days in fact. He'd done the right thing, sure. Robert Grudin was dead. But that vengeance didn't bring his family back. Was that why he felt empty? Who knew.

But he took the victory for what it was.

Meanwhile, Wyatt picked Mona up from her afterschool group and drove home. He found Scarlett making dinner when they got home, and the family all ate together as if nothing was wrong. As if Wyatt hadn't just blown a man up earlier that afternoon. Scarlett smiled at him like nothing was wrong, because, to her, nothing was wrong. She knew nothing about what he'd been a part of, and if he did his job, she never would. That night, after she'd fallen asleep, Wyatt sat in bed and watched the news coverage which seemed to take over every channel. All he saw were pictures of Grudin's car, in some state of burning at all times, and of course Grudin himself. He listened to people talk about their colleague, their friend, the hopeful electorate, but Wyatt didn't feel bad.

Until he saw the family photo. They put the family photo of Grudin with his wife and their daughter on the television, and Wyatt honed in on the announcers voice.

"Grudin, of course, leaves behind his wife, Leslie, and daughter Michelle. Michelle, seven years old, is homeschooled due to a learning disorder, and was reportedly confused when her father didn't come home that night. Leslie Grudin has struggled with how to break the news to her. Our hearts go out to this poor little girl, and this family, left in tatters."

Wyatt muted the television. Grudin's daughter was just like his. He felt like he needed to vomit. He stood up, went to the bathroom and washed his face, looking at himself in the mirror, before he went to Mona's bedroom and watched her sleep. He sat on the side of her bed and gently stroked her hair. Wyatt suddenly felt like the worst person in the whole world.

How could he have done this?

Rachel, however, felt the best she had in years. She and Sun Rai went out that evening to see a movie and get dinner and do some browsing at a local bookshop. Holding hands most of the night, it was the thing Rachel had always dreamed of. She never once thought about Robert Grudin, and she didn't even considering what she'd been involved in. All that mattered to Rachel right then was this moment, with Sun Rai. At one point, when Sun Rai was looking at a book of ancient architecture from various cultures, Rachel - a bit down the aisle from her - casually looked over and admired her, smiling to herself.

And Celia...well, Celia went home that night, and let her son sleep in her bed while they watched movies and ate ice cream. She tried not to think about what had happened, about what she'd gotten involved in, but when she saw the same news report Wyatt had, after her son had fallen asleep, she too couldn't help but feel sick. She tried to ignore it, drinking half a bottle of wine, but it didn't do much besides slightly calm her nerves and help her eventually fall asleep.

Things would be strange for a while, she thought as she began to drift off to sleep, but eventually everyone would move on, and nobody would remember the incident. Robert Grudin would be buried, and the past would be the past. Besides, as the news even put it, the main suspect was already dead considering it was being pinned on Oliver Brighton, and who would look into a dead man? Celia put her arm around her son, pulling him close to her and breathing his smell in. She smiled, and fell asleep.

                                                                                                ***

A phone rang.

It rang again, and this time a hand reached over to the bedside table, until it wrapped its fingers around the phone and lifted the receiver to the face in the bed, half asleep.

"Hello?" the man answered groggily.

"Brighton is dead," a voice said, "I don't know if you've heard."

"What? When did-"

"The other day, killed himself and his family. He's being blamed for a local politicians death as well," the voice said, "which means they'll likely begin investigating Brighton closely, which means they could find his connection to us. We need to do something, or the business runs the risk of being exposed."

The man sat up in bed and rubbed his forehead.

"Alright, I'll get on a plane and head back," he said, "I'll see what I can find before the cops do. If Brighton's smart, he put all the product somewhere safe, somewhere not easily traceable. I'll call you when I get there."

The man, Leonard Wattson, hung up and sighed. He then got up from the bed, got dressed and started packing a few suitcases. He then walked back into the bedroom from his walk in closet and shook his head. Production would have to stop for a while, but the girls deserved a break. They'd been working hard lately, and he could see they were tired. He then headed down the hall, towards the front door. He'd buy his ticket in cash when he arrived at the airport. As he passed the photos hanging on the wall, he stopped and looked at one, shaking his head again. The photo was of the history class he'd once taught, and sitting near him in the front of the photo was Oliver Brighton. His best supplier was dead, and he would find out who did this and why.

He'd worked hard for years to hone Brighton's abilities, and now it was all gone in the blink of an eye. Someone had pushed Brighton to do what he'd done, this much he was certain of, and when he found out who, and why, there would be hell to pay. He wasn't about to let not just his best supplier but also his entire empire come crashing down simply because of the murder of a local politician. He'd free Oliver of these claims, find out who had connected him to Grudin's death, and make right of the whole thing, the whole time believing he was truly doing good when in fact he was just as bad as Brighton himself.

He was just protecting his assets, illegal as they may be.

As he slammed his front door shut, the photos on the wall swayed, and the class photo fell to the floor, the glass cracking upon impact.

Calvin stepped back from the table and smiled. He was looking down at his creation, his bomb, then grabbed a nearby damp washcloth and cleaned his hands of the grime and sweat that had accrued on them from working on this today. Finally, after months and months of reading about about to properly make an explosive device, he'd accomplished it, and he was happy. Calvin needed coffee. He exited the shed, locked it behind him and headed across the backyard, mug in hand. He reached the patio and stepped up, slid open the glass door and got into the kitchen. He found his father had already made a pot, and he poured himself a cup, then headed back outside. Standing on the patio, looking at the shed from across the lawn, he couldn't help but feel accomplished. He was suddenly surprised when he heard a knocking at the side gate, and he could see a woman's head peeking over the top. Calvin furrowed his brow.

"Is he back there?" Wyatt asked from behind the fence.

"I think I see him," Rachel said.

"Well hurry up, get him to come to the gate, you weigh a ton," Wyatt said.

"Don't say that to a woman!" Rachel replied.

Calvin sighed, set his mug down on the table on the patio and headed to the gate. He unlatched it, just as Rachel was climbing down off Wyatt's back. Calvin stood and stared at them, as Rachel smoothed out her shirt and Wyatt got off his knees, wiping the grass stains from his pants.

"What the hell are you doing?" Calvin asked, half bemused.

"We know how to kill Robert Grudin and not have you pinned for it," Rachel said, "We just need your bomb."

"...come in," Calvin said after a moment, stepping aside, curious to hear their plan. He shut the gate again once they were in, locking it and biting his lip. Calvin followed them to the shed, unlocked it again and let all three of them inside, shutting and locking it from the inside once again. He then turned to face them and asked, "so, what's your plan?"

"I don't know if you saw the news this morning, but Oliver Brighton killed his family and himself," Rachel said, "remember Oliver? We went to school with him? Kinda lanky weird kid?"

"Yeah, that narrows it down," Calvin mumbled, making them smirk.

"Anyway," Rachel continued, "he worked for a company that was set to destroy natural property for high priced condominiums, and we figure if we kill Robert Grudin, everyone will suspect it will be an act of revenge from Brighton."

"Why would they assume that?" Calvin asked.

"Because Grudin's been one of the biggest proponents of industry and giving these companies the go ahead," Wyatt said, stepping forward, "He's the one funding these projects, especially this company Morgana, and so people will learn Oliver was let go from his job, then decided to take Grudin out for his willingness to put industry before nature before killing himself."

"But Brighton's already dead," Calvin said, "wouldn't it be poor timing if-"

"We thought about that, and we think if we just set it so that it's been waiting to be activated then people won't think twice. This was his final act after his death, sort of a revenge from beyond the grave type of thing," Rachel said.

"...your proposal is all very interesting, but Grudin is my target. He killed my family," Calvin said, "by shirking that responsibility-"

"By shirking that responsibility," Rachel said, interrupting him, "you'd be in the clear, Grudin would be out of the picture and Morgana would be under investigation for their shady business practices. It works out in everyones favor. I know you feel you need to do this for your wife, your daughter, but...but don't throw your life away for this piece of shit, Calvin. You don't deserve to lose that too."

Calvin looked from Rachel to Wyatt, who just shrugged, and then back at Rachel. She was sincere, and he knew that. He had to admit, he hated the idea of going to prison, and he did enjoy his freedom. Calvin sighed and nodded, setting his mug down on the table.

"...alright," he said, "but if we're doing this, I'm the one placing it. At least grant me that much."

"Of course," Rachel said, smiling and hugging him.

It'd been a long, weird, winding road, but it was all finally coming together, and in a day or so, Robert Grudin would be dead, and Calvin Klepper would not only have his revenge but be free of any blame. He had to admit, he did kinda like blaming someone else for his poor decisions.

                                                                                                  ***

Calvin Klepper had been tracking Robert Grudin's movements for over a year.

He knew his schedule, down to a tee, and he kept a highly detailed log of his excursions. He even noted the days he made stops somewhere else, just to make sure that, when he finally exploded him, he wouldn't have someone with him. Grudin was the only one Calvin wanted, he didn't need collateral damage. Sitting in the car together that afternoon, watching Grudin's car from afar, Wyatt couldn't help but feel awkward being here with Calvin. Rachel had to go back to work, leaving Calvin and Wyatt alone together. Calvin bit into the cart burrito's he'd bought them just around the corner, and chewed, binoculars still to his face.

"So..." Wyatt said, "uh...about your sister."

"Don't, just don't," Calvin said.

"I just...I guess we should talk about it. I should explain myself."

"There's nothing to explain," Calvin said, "you hurt her and now she's not here. Simple as that."

"No, because it's not simple as that," Wyatt said, "your sister was awesome, I just...I didn't know how to explain that to her, nor did I know how to deal with liking her. I was a star baseball player, man. I was popular as shit. Peer pressure does weird things to an adolescents brain. I certainly didn't intend for her to get hurt. Besides, once I met Scarlett, anything I might've felt for your sister was gone."

Calvin slowly looked at Calvin, finished chewing, then said, "...she doesn't talk to us anymore, do you know that? She's so distraught from feeling unlovable that she doesn't even communicate with her own family anymore because, to her, anyone is a liability intimacy wise."

"I'm sorry, man," Wyatt said, "For what it's worth, my feelings were genuine."

"I believe you, that's the sick part," Calvin said, "but that doesn't mean I forgive you for it."

"Look, I know what you've been through sucks, losing your wife and daughter, and it must make you angry, especially at anyone else who might've been mean, even if incidentally so, to anyone in your family, but Calvin, if I hadn't met Scarlett, I...I would've taken her out, I really would've. I couldn't ignore my feelings, even with my popularity at stake. I was a high school boy, sure, but I wasn't an asshole."

"...yeah, that's kind of the thing that's confused me for years about you, actually," Calvin said, "I wanna be angry at you, but you seem so genuine that it makes it difficult to hold a grudge."

Wyatt laughed, which made Calvin chuckle a little. Wyatt hadn't thought about Calvin's sister in a while, but it wasn't like he never thought about her. Sure, Scarlett was the love of his life, he couldn't deny that, but Calvin's sister, Amelia Klepper, was such an interesting girl, and he'd been so smitten with her that he was actually nervous about being around her, something he'd never dealt with when dealing with women he'd been interested.

"So...you don't know how she's doing?" Wyatt asked quietly.

"Not really. I get an e-mail from her once a year, maybe," Calvin said, "sort of an infodump about her life, but divulging nothing of real note. I like to believe she's happy and doing well, wherever she is and whatever it is she's spending her life doing."

Just then Wyatt pointed out the window and they both slid down in their car seats. Robert Grudin had walked out of the building, unlocked his car and climbed inside. He started the car, and pulled away, just as Calvin did the same, maintaining a safe distance so as not to seem suspicious. They drove for a while, nearly heading across town.

"Of all the days I've noted," Calvin said, "the one day he never does anything with anyone else is Tuesdays. That's the day when it'd be perfect to strike."

"Alright," Wyatt said, "god, if you'd had asked me months ago where I'd be now, I certainly wouldn't have said this."

"That's the thing about loss that I've learned," Calvin said, turning to follow Grudin down yet another street, "it makes you desperate to protect what you really love. You never really know how far you'll go to save something until you're pushed to that edge."

"...I have a daughter in elementary school, her name's Mona," Wyatt said, "we recently got her diagnosed with ASD, and ever since then, all I've wanted to do is protect her and make the world a better place for her to exist in. I'm so sorry about your daughter, Calvin, I...I can't even imagine not having mine in my life. That sort of grief must destroy a person."

"They were my entire world," Calvin said softly, "and when you lose your entire world, it makes you wanna burn down the rest of the world with the loss."

They didn't speak for the rest of the afternoon.

                                                                                                  ***

Rachel pulled into the parking lot and parked harshly, seeing Sun Rai sitting on the hood of her own car, drinking a coffee. Rachel got out of her car and stood there, the two women staring at one another. Rachel approached Sun's car and stood in front of her, not saying a word, just staring at her. After a long moment, Rachel finally took a long deep sigh and spoke.

"I'm scared," Rachel said, "I'm sorry I left so suddenly, I'm just...I'm scared of being hurt."

"That's totally understandable," Sun said, "I can quit the job if that makes you more comfortable. I'm sure I could get something else."

"No, god no, I...I love working with you. It's so great having you around," Rachel said, "this was always kind of my dream, dorky as that sounds, was us being together, doing something together, just...having fun. But now that my dream is a reality, I guess it frightens me. I lost everything after school, and I'm so not the girl I once was, and I guess having you back is sort of like being able to almost reclaim that girl I was, and that feels good but also scary. She was so uncertain of herself, of everything around her."

"Yeah, and you're so not like that," Sun said, smirking, making Rachel chuckle as she sat down on the hood beside Sun, picking at her nails.

"I guess...I just need to think about things," Rachel said, "I was almost assaulted during college and it...it really screwed me up for intimacy. Just give me some time, okay?"

"Take all the time you need," Sun said, "I mean, let's look at my life, it's not like I'm goin' anywhere."

They both laughed and Rachel laid her head on Sun's shoulder. All she'd ever wanted was this, but after seeing how Calvin had turned out from loss, seeing how Oliver reacted to losing something, she just couldn't bring herself to risk that. Not yet. Maybe sometime, but not yet. Just not yet.

                                                                                                     ***

That evening, Celia, Rachel, Calvin and Rachel met in Rachel's dingy apartment, seeing as she was the only one with any real kind of privacy. Sitting on the couch, everyone watched Wyatt give his little presentation as he explained the plan he and Calvin had formed.

"Here's the rub, guys. Robert Grudin was paying off Morgana to do this pre-construction, and his plan was that once he was elected, he'd officially fund their projects, damaging the environment for decades to come. Oliver Brighton worked for Morgana as a safety consultant, and was fired because he didn't prevent what Celia and I did on Halloween night. As a result, Oliver killed his family, then himself. But we think we can also pin Grudin's death on Oliver. We can take Oliver and make him a local hero, a fighter for what's right, a defender of the environment. Sure, what he did wasn't okay, but if it gets the heat off us, then it's worth it," Wyatt said, pacing.

"And how are we going to do that, exactly?" Celia asked.

"Good question," Wyatt said, "Calvin's built a bomb. Grudin killed Calvin's wife and daughter a few years back, and never took responsibility or faced legal repercussions as a result, and Calvin wanted revenge. If we can make it seem like Oliver left this bomb as one last measure, to take Grudin out for what he was doing with Morgana and for being fired, then Calvin gets his revenge and Grudin faces consequences and Brighton winds up an environmental martyr."

"...sounds good," Rachel said, not really there. She stood up and walked to the little kitchenette, looking around for a glass and a drink.

"This is ridiculous," Celia said, "how do you think we're going to get away with it? Won't they just-"

"Yes, they would've questioned a bomb left after his death, but the way we see it, Grudin's made so many enemies, that any kind of investigation would lead to quite a few people, and Brighton would be the most obvious choice, considering his recent activities. People are just going to automatically assume he did this, because, well...look at what happened to him. All we gotta do is place the bomb, make it seem like it's been waiting to be triggered, and kaboom, the end of Grudin and our problems."

Celia noticed Rachel off in the kitchen, and she stood up and headed to speak to her, leaving Wyatt and Calvin to discuss their plan.

"Hey," Celia said as she approached Rachel, "you doing alright?"

"I've been having a weird few days," Rachel said, "...someone I've loved for a long time finally admitted they like me, and I...I just don't know how to react."

"Wouldn't you be happy about that?"

"Under normal circumstances, sure," Rachel said, "but I'm scared to get that close to someone again."

"Look at the people in this room, Rachel," Celia said, as they both glanced back at Calvin and Wyatt, "Calvin lost his family, my husband left me and my son, and Wyatt is the only one with any kind of family, but he isn't sure how to keep them safe. We're all scared to be close to someone. That's just...what relationships are like. You get scared. But isn't the good they bring also worth the risk?"

"I don't know, is it?" Rachel asked, "I guess that's the million dollar question."

"That's something only you can answer," Celia said, "but let's put it another way. Do you wanna be Wyatt, with his wife and his children, or do you wanna be Oliver, who hated himself so much he wiped out his own lineage?"

Rachel looked down at her glass and shrugged as Wyatt and Calvin approached the girls in the kitchen.

"Alright," Wyatt said, "this coming Tuesday, we do this. You guys don't have to do anything. In fact, go to work, because that will give you alibis if ever needed. Calvin and I will take care of this, and we'll meet together once it's over, alright?"

"Sounds like a plan," Celia said, with Rachel nodding.

As everyone left, Rachel was finally alone again. She pulled the curtains on her windows shut, went into her bedroom and sat on her bed, thinking about what she was about to be involved in. She was about to have a hand in exploding a local politician. How had things gotten to this point? She couldn't be involved with someone, she couldn't risk getting them involved with something this ridiculous and dangerous. Rachel laid on her back and stared at the ceiling overhead, exhaling.

She realized what everyone was risking, and here she was, too scared to risk even loving another person.

Maybe she deserved to be alone.

                                                                                                   ***

Calvin was sitting on the patio that evening, sipping iced tea and staring at the shed, when he heard the glass door slide open and saw his father, Barry, exit and sit in the chair beside him. Barry and Calvin smiled at one another.

"Nice night," Barry said.

"It really is," Calvin said.

"Terrible what that man did, isn't it?" Barry asked, "That guy all over the news?"

"Oh, right, yeah. I can't imagine someone willingly taking away something so great," Calvin said, "I miss my child and wife so badly, and here's a guy willing to just destroy that firsthand. Despicable."

"I mean, we don't really know what was going on with him, but still," Barry said, "either way, those poor little girls and that woman didn't deserve to suffer because of his shortcomings and failures. You know, I know it may seem rude of me to say this but...you can start over, Calvin. There's no law that says you have to grieve forever. I know plenty of young women who'd be happy to go out with someone like you."

"Thanks dad," Calvin said, smiling as he swirled the cubes of ice in his glass, "but I'm alright for now, just being on my own, with you and mom. Maybe sometime later, when I'm ready, then I'll consider it. For now, grief is...comforting. It's become something I'm used to. I know that probably doesn't sound healthy, but...it's good."

"I totally get it," Barry said, "your mother and I love having you here. At least one of our kids wants to be in this family."

"That isn't fair, Amelia was always weird, she doesn't-"

"I know, I shouldn't judge her, I just...I miss her," Barry said.

"She'll come home eventually," Calvin said, "trust me."

"I hope you're right," Barry said, opening up the newspaper he'd brought out with him and starting to read it. Calvin looked back at the shed and sipped from his glass, thinking about his sister, thinking about Wyatt, and thinking about this weird fucked up friendship he now had with all these one time strangers from high school a decade prior.

                                                                                                ***

Robert Grudin read his daughter a bedtime story that night, then joined his wife on the couch in the living room to watch late night TV. Sitting there, laughing at a monologue, holding hands with his wife, Robert Grudin had no idea that in 48 hours he'd be blown to bits. But that didn't matter, because all that mattered was this moment, living right here, right now. Hell, he didn't even notice the man in the driveway, kneeling under his car, wiring up a bomb. When finished, Wyatt stood up and wiped the sweat from his forehead, then looked through the window from afar, noticing Grudin and his wife.

For one brief moment, Wyatt felt a pang of regret, but he knew this was something he had to do. And then he saw their daughter join them, and his guts twisted even more. He grimaced, turned and walked the few blocks to his car, got in and drove home. When he got there, he kissed Mona's forehead, careful not to wake her, before entering the bedroom and finding Scarlett sitting on the bed, doing a crossword. She looked up and smiled at him as he shut the door behind him.

"Hey!" she said, "where'd you-"

But before she could finish, he walked up to the bed, climbed on and kissed her heavily. She didn't resist, and even kissed him back.

"I love you more than anything in the world," Wyatt said after the kiss, putting his forehead against hers, lacing their fingers together.

"I love you too!" she said, giggling, "What brought this on?"

Wyatt thought for a moment.

"Seeing that guy on the news...kill his own wife...just made me realize how lucky and grateful I am to have you, to have the kids," Wyatt said, "that's all."

"Well that's sweet, even if kind of sick," Scarlett said, making him laugh. They laid on their backs on the bed and cuddled, and as she felt his fingers go through her silky hair, she shut her eyes and sighed pleasantly; she asked, "did you ever think, when we first met, that things would be like this one day? That this is where we'd be?"

"...no, I really didn't," Wyatt said, recalling the things he'd recently gotten involved with, "I can definitely say it's been a surprise."

Oliver Brighton had been a great student.

He'd been on the honor all throughout grade school, he'd been class valedictorian and he'd been so well put together that even Wyatt Bloom had been kind to him on the few occasions they interacted, which was surprising as Wyatt often had a habit of making fun of some of the more academically gifted students. Oliver had always been helpful, considerate, compassionate. He'd started an animal rights group at their high school, he'd courted his future wife in such ways that made her friends jealous, and he was often employee of the month at his yogurt job in college. So how does a man like that turn around and kill his entire family? Well, it's hard to pinpoint the exact spot where things started going downhill, but for Oliver, it was fairly easy to know. Contrary to popular belief about people who just snap, it was never a specific moment.

He'd always been a monster in the closet.

                                                                                                     ***

"Okay, fair enough. What should I do?" Oliver asked, following he as she started to walk back to the group of men.

"Find another job," she said, which stopped him in his tracks.

"Wh...what?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, Oliver, but this is too big to ignore," Melinda said, "I have to deal with this. You're fired. Not my orders."

And with that she turned away and headed off to deal with the men. Oliver stood there, staring at the sight, aware his world was crumbling around him. Oliver turned and slowly walked back to his car. He got in, shut the door behind him and just stared at the sight in front of him. He felt rage building inside him. Everything he'd built up for himself, in a legitimate career, had suddenly come to an abrupt end. Oliver reached to the glovebox and opened it, looking at the handgun in it, then shut the glovebox and started the car.

He then started the car, and started to drive away. He didn't know where he was going. All he knew was that he needed to drive. He had this burning sensation in the pit of his stomach like he'd swallowed a bucket of lava. He had always been perfect, had a spotless track record, and now he was going to be seen as a screwup, a failure, a giant liability. Forget ever getting work with any other companies, because after hearing about this, there was no way in hell anyone would hire him. Oliver pulled over to a local bar and grill and parked, then got out and walked inside. He seated himself at a table in the back, ordered a basket of steak nachos and a light beer. He sat and ate and drink, and just thought. He thought about his options, and eventually came to the realization that he only had one.

And it could be solved with the gun in his glove compartment.

                                                                                               ***

"Girls, get your things together," Roberta said as she walked into the bedroom, seeing her daughters quickly packing. She stood in the doorway and watched momentarily, then added, "remember you don't have to take everything, okay? Clothes and shoes and stuff we can buy more of. Just pack the things that mean the most to you, alright? I'll carry it all out once you're done, just come get me."

Robert turned and walked briskly down the hall, back to her bedroom, continuing to pack herself. She'd waited for this day for so long. She'd planned it to a tee. She'd finally be leaving her husband and his monstrous behavior behind for good, and she'd be taking her kids and going to her brothers house a few states away. Her husband wouldn't even know where to find her, and that was all that she wanted. Once out and unencumbered, she knew she could muster up the strength and energy necessary to start filing divorce proceedings. Whether she'd go beyond that, talk to the police about his behavior, remained to be seen. Robert's first and foremost goal was to get her daughters to safety.

She heard a door open, and she groaned, tossing her dress down on top of the suitcase and heading back into the hall.

"Girls, don't try and take that stuff out yourselves, alright? I can-"

She stopped in the hall. Standing there was Oliver, his presence shocking her as he was supposed to be at work. Roberta tugged gently on her pearl necklace, grimacing.

"What are you doing home?" she asked.

"I got fired," Oliver said, "For something I didn't even do, or couldn't prevent. You going somewhere?"

"I just thought I'd take the girls to my parents for the weekend, so we could spend some time alone," Roberta said, lying through her teeth, "You know, just have some private time like we used to."

"That sounds nice," Oliver said, slowly walking down the hallway. It was then that Roberta noticed the gun in his hand. She tensed up and tried not to draw attention to her nervousness, pulling her eyesight away from the gun in his hand. Oliver stopped in front of the bedroom door and looked at it. He pushed the door open a little and reached inside, grabbing their oldest daughter who was 7 by the hair, and dragging her out into the hall, putting the gun to the side of her head.

"Oliver, what-"

"I could make sure we have alone time forever, if that's what you'd prefer," he said, "I provided for this family, and you're trying to leave? After all I've given you?"

"What have you given us besides PTSD?" Roberta asked, immediately regretting her snark, "I'm sorry, that was wrong of me. I just...let her go, okay? Let her go, and let's go and talk about things. I know things haven't been good for a while, but the girls have nothing to do with that. They're tired, Oliver, they're tired of everything you make them do, and I think it's only fair we let them go live with my family and I'll...I'll get a job, okay? That'll cover whatever monetary loss we take and-"

"You think whatever you make would even come close to what the girls manage to bring in?" Oliver asked, sighing, then releasing his grip on his daughters hair, "go on, go to your mother."

As she started walking quickly down the hall, tears in her eyes, Roberta opened her arms wide to embrace her. Oliver sniffled, raised the handgun and put five bullets into the back of his daughter. Roberta felt like the entire world stopped. She dropped to her knees and wanted to scream, but nothing came out of her. Suddenly she saw their younger daughter, only 4, standing at the doorway to her bedroom, hugging a stuffed animal tightly to her chest. Oliver looked from Roberta to the girl, raised the gun again and pulled the trigger. One shot, clean through the head. Roberta crumpled to the floor. She felt Oliver walked towards her, grab her by the hair and drag her down the hallway back to their bedroom. She didn't even care anymore what he might do to her, because for Roberta Brighton, her world was already over.

                                                                                                 ***

Abuse begets abuse, or at least that's the theory many subscribe to anyway.

If you're abused as a child, you're likely going to abuse others as an adult. But this isn't actually the case. Surprisingly, more often than not, the abused go the opposite route, and wind up becoming the most empathetic and considerate people you could hope to meet, almost going out of their way to make sure those around them are okay. They never want someone to go through what they went through. Oliver Brighton came from a normal home with a normal loving family. He never suffered any kind of abuse of any sort from anyone anywhere. Even at school he was left relatively alone, despite being on the dorkier side of things. His mother and father lauded praise onto him, and Oliver was the highlight of his family.

But that didn't mean Oliver Brighton was going to grow up to be a good man. When he started dating, he'd come off as a relatively clean cut nice guy, the sort of guy your folks would almost be thrilled to have their daughter romance, but behind closed doors, Oliver Brighton was a sick and twisted individual. He hurt these women, sexually and otherwise. Sometimes he'd just be angry, and sometimes it'd be to get his rocks off. Oliver Brighton, despite looking like someone who'd have the demeanor of someone who writes computer code for a living instead had a violent temper, one that he couldn't control, nor would he want to. He liked making the women he knew hurt. He liked making them cry.

And his daughters...the things he did to them...

When Roberta Falls first met him, her best friend said something about the guy seemed off, but Roberta defended him day in and day out, saying that nobody saw who he actually was the way she did. Far too many women have unfortunately been lulled into this exact sense of false security, and often met with violent ends themselves. Roberta, after a year of being married, decided her friend was right, and she no longer wanted to play house with this creep, but Oliver had other plans. Roberta didn't want to have children, but she didn't have a choice. Oliver made it happen. And once the children were in play, she knew she couldn't leave. She knew she'd forever be tied to him in some form or fashion, and that sickened her. So Roberta stayed, and she plotted, trying to come up with some way she could get out.

When she finally made the decision, and began asking her brother for help, she knew her life was about to change for the better. No longer would the girls be subjected to the awful torture their father put them through, and really it was their pain that she couldn't allow. She didn't care what he did to her, but she'd die before she allowed him to continue to exploit her daughters.

Turns out she was half right.

                                                                                                    ***

Oliver sat on the bed, undoing his tie as he looked down on the floor at Roberta, curled up and sobbing. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"I tried to give you the best," he said, "and-"

"Oh spare me," she replied, knowing she no longer had anything to lose so why hold back her tongue, she continued, "don't give me that underappreciated good husband bullshit. What you did to me, what you did to our children...god...you're despicable, and the fact you're trying to play victim only makes it worse."

Oliver looked at his tie in his hands and sighed, turning it over.

"Remember when you got me this tie? For our 5th anniversary?" he asked, "...I love this tie. You really knew me, you really knew what I'd like. I thought we knew eachother, but I guess I was wrong. I guess I didn't know you as well as I thought, because I never could've imagined you'd try to run. Now this tie will be tainted."

"...what?" Roberta asked, finally trying to roll over and look up at him, but she wasn't fast enough as she felt his knees crush into her spine as he knelt on her, wrapped the tie around her throat, his hands grabbing both ends, as he started to strangle Roberta. She clawed at his hands, but she couldn't make any difference. She knew she was overpowered.

"You did this," Oliver whispered through gritted teeth, "you did all of this and this is all your fault. I want you to die knowing you caused this."

Roberta drowned him out as he eyes rolled back. She stopped listening, and instead focused on the one good thing she had...her religious belief. She knew that, as soon as her life was over, she would be with her girls again, and that was the thought she died with. As soon as her body went limp, Oliver rolled off of her and started sobbing. He crawled across the floor and sat next to the closet. All he wanted was a family who would obey him, and instead he got people willing to risk everything to leave. Oliver Brighton reached over, grabbed the handgun and pulled it to him, lifting it and opening his mouth. He slipped the barrel in, said a prayer, then pulled the trigger.

                                                                                                      ***

Wyatt locked the car and walked around to the other side, finding Celia; he threw his arms up and asked, "what's the big deal now?" but she wouldn't answer, and instead she headed inside. Wyatt didn't question, he just followed. Once inside, she stopped at the bar, snapped her fingers and asked for the remote control to the TV, which she was quickly given.

"Hey! Earth to Celia! What's the big damn deal?" Wyatt asked, but she snapped her fingers in his face and then pointed at the television. Wyatt's gaze slowly moved towards the television, which was on a breaking news report. A lovely little home in a quiet little suburb was on the television, surrounded by cop cars. Wyatt didn't recognize the place, but he had an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"-if you're just joining us," the announcer said as Celia turned the sound up, "then allow me to reiterate this breaking news. Local resident Oliver Brighton, safety inspector for the Morgana landscaping and construction company, is dead. It's speculated that Brighton, after a recent incident at their latest work site cost him his job, came home wherein he killed his wife and both daughters before taking his own life. As of this moment, there's not a lot of information about-"

Celia muted the TV and looked at Wyatt, his jaw hanging. He slowly looked at her, and their eyes locked.

"...what the fuck did we do?" she whispered.

From the parking lot, a car horn beeped, and Wyatt could hear Mona shouting.

"Daddy! I'm gonna be late for school!"

Wyatt slumped onto a barstool and stared at the bowl of mixed nuts. He couldn't feel anything in his body anymore, and Celia sat beside him. The two sat there for what felt like hours, but were only mere seconds. He heard the car horn honk again, and the bartender looked out the window, then approached Wyatt.

"Hey man, your kid is beeping your horn," he said.

"Y...yeah, thanks," Wyatt said, waving him away.

"...this is our fault," Celia whispered, "we caused this to happen. What we did...those poor little girls...that poor woman..."

"We had no way of knowing," Wyatt said, "Hell, we didn't even know Oliver was employed by them. We couldn't have fucking predicted this."

Wyatt finally stood up and composed himself, then pulled his car keys out of his coat pocket.

"Where are you going?" Celia asked, following him.

"I'm taking my daughter to school," Wyatt said, "and then I'm gonna find a way out of this mess."

As they exited back into the parking lot, Celia couldn't believe he was just leaving. She stood there, mouth somewhat agape as he unlocked his car, climbed back inside the drivers seat and slid the key into the ignition, just as another car suddenly veered into the lot, almost hitting his. He climbed out, ready to yell at the driver, when he noticed the driver was, in fact, Rachel Minnow.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked.

"I saw your car and I knew we should talk," she said, "ya know, about Oliver."

"What the hell is she talking about?" Celia asked.

"I know what you guys did, Wyatt came to me, asking me for an explosive to erase evidence," Rachel said, "obviously we failed to do that. I was at work and I had to suddenly leave and I heard about this on the car radio. What are we gonna do?"

The three of them stood around, completely uncertain of what decision to make here would be. That was until a bus passed by on the road, with a big banner endorsing Robert Grudin, and suddenly Wyatt had an idea.

"...Wyatt?" Rachel asked, "What are we gonna do?"

Wyatt smirked and looked at Celia, then Rachel.

"I'll tell you what we're gonna do," he said, "we're gonna kill Robert Grudin."