Hours upon hours of scrolling. Thousands of articles, listacles, seemingly private records of addresses and phone numbers, all leading to the inevitable dead end that always seemed to loom just around the corner. At this point, what had been a somewhat Sherlockian effort at the start had now simply become exhausting; a question without an answer, a mystery with no answer as to whodunit. And, frankly, Lilian was ready to call it quits. She had contemplated hiring a PA, but that just felt like another avenue that would turn up nothing in exchange for monetary fees. She'd wasted enough time and resources on this, at this point, she figured.

And then, one morning, she found a name.

Alicia Browning. This was the first actual name linked to the incident in question. Somebody had named the woman who had died. Not a family member, but it was a start at least. Sadly for Lilian, the surname of 'Browning' was so damn universal that finding a relative now felt like an even bigger needle in a haystack. But her determination had paid off. She'd managed, somehow, through link hopping across dozens upon dozens of dead end domains full of defunct blogs and newssites, finally come across one post, one singular post, that had a name for the woman in question, and if that didn't feel like success, then she didn't know what would.

So, she figured, if she couldn't find another Browning, then she'd do the next best thing. She'd track down the poster.

The things we do for closure.

***

"Your job sounds so cool," Kate said.

She and Miranda had gone out for breakfast that morning. Miranda had considered asking Lilian to accompany them, but she figured it was best to not only leave her to her research, but also have some one on one time with her sister.

"It has its perks," Miranda said, shrugging, scooping eggs and bacon together on her fork, "it's definitely unique, I can say that with pride and certainty. Nobody really gets to do what we do, and we bring a very specific kind of joy to children, so it's cool."

"Do you think...maybe...I could do it?" Kate asked, shifting the contents of her plate around absentmindedly, looking down at the table, as if expecting rejection to her proposal. She was doing better, eating, but she still struggled, and Miranda noticed it this morning. She moved food around more than she ate it. Still, patience was required, and maybe having a physical job would make her feel better about herself and entice her more to eat.

"I'd have to ask my boss," Miranda said, shrugging, "but I guess I don't really see the downside exactly. Still, things are...wonky, at the office, like, at all times, so it might be a bit before I get the chance to approach her with the idea."

"Howdy pard'ners," Tyler said, settling himself in beside Miranda.

"Heya Sherrif," Miranda replied, elbowing him playfully, "how was your gig?"

"Exhausting. I get why they schedule kids parties in the morning, cause the little shits are up and rarin' to go, but christ if it ain't wearin' me out," Tyler said, taking his hat off and fanning himself with it, causing both Miranda and Kate to exchange a playful look, both giggling.

"Your character is starting to seep into your personality, you are aware of that, right? You're not on the clock anymore, you don't have to talk like a cast member of Gunsmoke," Miranda said, causing Kate to finally break and laugh.

"You can take the cow out of the boy but you can't take the boy out of the cow," Tyler said, before screwing up his face and adding, "ew. That...that sounded better in my head."

The girls completely lost it, cackling maniacally as Tyler smiled and ordered from a passing waitress. After the laughter had subsided, Miranda turned to Tyler and nodded.

"Do you...my god that was funny, thank you for that. Um, but, do you think Helena would let my sister work with us?" Miranda asked, "I mean, theoretically, the more performers on payroll, the more jobs we can cover, right? So it would make sense for her to be okay with the concept."

"See, the thing you're doing though is viewing Helena's business decisions through a practical lens. That woman is...a mystery," Tyler said as the waitress returned with his coffee, "um, I mean, your logic is correct, yes, but who's to say that's also how she would respond. I don't know. What character would you like to be, exactly?"

Kate looked between her sister and Tyler in confusion.

"Ch-character?" she asked, stammering, "What, uh...what do you mean?"

"Well, like me, I'm a cowboy," Tyler said, "Your sister is a mermaid, Lilian is a princess, Alexis...was a pirate. We each have our archetype and we play into that, often to themed parties. So I think your best thing to do is go into a meeting with Helena with something already crafted, you know, that way she can tell you're earnest about your inclusion and committment to the role."

Kate nodded, smiling, taking it all in. She then finally stopped talking, and, instead, started eating once again, which made Miranda in turn smile warmly. Miranda looked at Tyler, who was sipping his coffee from the mug as the waitress returned with his order, a plate of bacon and eggs, and he unsheathed his knife and fork from their napkin.

"Looks like a meal fit for a man of the west," Miranda said.

"Can't be a sherrif if ya don't eat like a farmhand," Tyler replied, the both of them laughing once again. Nobody would say it, but...without Alexis around, the air felt lighter. Things felt less dramatic. Tyler was at ease, and Miranda and didn't have to worry about Lilian worrying about her best friend. Hurt to acknowledge but it was true. Sometimes the best thing you can do for others, and Miranda knew this firsthand, was go away.

***

Lilian stared at her screen.

She'd gone through the DNS records to track down who owned the IP associated with the site she'd found the article on, and had been returned with one name. Barbara Hawkins. This name, thankfully, turned out to be far less unique than Alicia Browning. In fact, doing a little bit more digging, she easily uncovered a social media trail of Barbara Hawkins that led to numerous accounts, though most seemed to be either completely privated, defunct or outright abandoned after having been wiped. But there was one. One account still up and active, on a site for journalists. And there she was, plain as day, at least Lilian assumed it was her.

She looked like an ordinary woman. A soft skin, blonde haired woman with the typical cozy outfit attire one would expected to see on a woman her age in certain niche internet circles centered around being cozy. A white knit beanie adorning her head, a yellow sweater, and big chunky glasses. A nice smile. She looked welcoming, inviting, and Lilian felt like she had a good shot. So, Lilian brought up her e-mail, copied and pasted Hawkins into the field, and began typing.

And it was only then, about three sentences in, that she started to realize just how utterly batshit what she was doing actually was and how she sounded to a complete and total stranger.

"Hey, I'm looking for information on a woman who threw herself in front of a monorail almost twenty years ago, could you get back to me? I cyber stalked you to get this done, thanks!"

Yeah, that's not creepy and offputting at all. Lilian closed her laptop lid once more, leaned back into the couch and sighed. She needed a break, a breather. She stood up and she headed to the bathroom, intending to get a shower, maybe a bath, and just relax. Let her heart rate slow down. This all felt so intense, so life and death. But, as she passed through the narrow hall, she stopped and looked at a photo hung on the wall of herself and Alexis at a job together, in full costume, and she almost felt like crying.

How could she just...leave.

She knew why. She got it. But context didn't make it hurt any less. She missed her best friend. Wherever she and Rick were, she just hoped they were alright. With that, she walked into the bathroom, locked the door and filled the tub. She then undressed and slid herself into the water, relaxing, closing her eyes. Maybe one day she too would get the chance to run away, even if only for a little while. Some time away may just do her some good.

Though, and she didn't know this at the time, she wasn't the only one struggling with feeling as though she belonged.

***

Rina was standing in the kitchen of an otherwise empty home.

The party was...well, barely a party. The decorations were up, sure - streamers and balloons and decor littered the area - but there were no kids, and the birthday child, a young girl named Ami, was also nowhere to be found. So instead, Rina was standing at the kitchen island, opposite Ami's mother, as she helped her frost cupcakes.

"They wouldn't come," Ami's mother, Gwen, said as she swirled another curled topping to one cupcake; she then wiped her forehead on her brow and added, "I talked to parents, but they wouldn't give in, and the ones that tried couldn't get their kids to relent. It was a hopeless endeavour, all in all."

"That's awful. Why? What was the issue?" Rina asked as she finished another cupcake.

"Ami's always had trouble fitting in," Gwen said, "but especially lately. After her grandfather passed she's been acting out, but not in the ways one would expect a child to. She got really into witchcraft, started reading books about it, watching movies - the ones we'd let her, anyway, that wouldn't give her nightmares - about the subject, and started telling everyone that she was a witch who could communicate with the deceased, said she was going to contact her grandfather."

Rina smiled weakly. She always loved a weird little girl with an active imagination, as it reminded her of herself when she was that age. She continued to listen as Gwen went on.

"I guess," she continued, "it just freaked the other kids out so bad that now nobody wants anything to do with her. Now here I am, single mom, making an entire birthday smorgasbord of treats and delights for a party that didn't happen. I don't mind her having them all to herself, or myself after she goes to bed, but still, she wanted friends, not cupcakes."

Rina nodded. She herself had struggled to be liked when she had been that age, so she got it. Rina set down the frosting applicator on the counter and exhaled, putting her palms flat on the tile, shaking her head.

"Would it help if I spoke to her? I mean, I'm here, she should take advantage of the fact that a real witch is at her party, right?" Rina asked, making Gwen smirk.

"I'm sure it might do her some good. She's in the den," Gwen said, and Rina nodded before turning off on her heel to go find Ami. She walked down the hall, past a bathroom, a bedroom, and then stopped at a little alcove with three steps that entered into a slightly sunken denroom, and there she was. Sitting there, by herself, looking through a book, was Ami. She was wearing a very flowy dress, her hair in two braids, and a stick sitting by her side. Rina entered quietly and stepped across the carpet, before settling in on the floor beside her.

"What are you reading?" Rina asked.

"It's a book about ghosts, and how to talk to them," Ami said, "I'm looking for spells."

"Found any yet?" Rina asked, and Ami shook her head dejectedly.

"Is this your magic wand?" Rina asked, carefully picking up the stick, treating it with the same reverance a child would, and Ami nodded eagerly, starting to smile a little. Rina smirked, adding, "you wanna know the secret to being a witch?"

"Okay," Ami said, turning now to face her, both of them sitting cross legged.

"Okay," Rina said, "the secret to being a witch is all about believing in yourself. See, so many people don't think we have powers, but that's because they're jealous. As such, they won't believe in us, and it's up to us to believe in ourselves. Even if it seems like your spells aren't working, if you believe they are, then they are. Just because the dead might not talk back to you doesn't mean it isn't working."

Ami sniffled and rubbed her nose on her loose fitting dress sleeve. She then reached up and took her pointy witch hat off and placed it in her lap.

"But nobody came to my party cause they're scared of me or think I'm weird," Ami said, "is it better to be myself or to be someone people like?"

Rina felt her heart break a little. Her parents had always been loving, supportive, understanding...but they also held her to impossibly high standards, especially when she was in school. As such, she also had this issue with her peers. Rina spent much of her adolescence alone or only with her family, teaching herself not to be so weird as to make them or anyone else uncomfortable. But that wasn't a lesson she was interested in passing on. She had gotten to the point of embracing her strangeness, and encouraging others, especially children, to do the same. Besides, when else are you allowed, truly allowed, to be weird, societally, other than childhood? Hell, it's almost expected of you. If anything, the truly weird kids were the kids who weren't weird at all.

"It is always better to be yourself," Rina said, "you can never stop being with you the way others can leave you. You need to be your own best friend. That is a truly magical spell. It's a hard one to learn, but once cast correctly? It's the most useful one you'll have."

Ami smiled again as Gwen entered with a tray of cupcakes.

"Who wants sweets?" she asked, causing both girls to grin in delight. Rina finally got it. She understood now why Lilian, Miranda, Tyler, everyone, did this job. The chance to make a childs happiest day the brightest it could be.

And the desserts were just icing on the cake, no pun intended.

***

Lilian was sitting on the bed.

She was dressed in her oversized pajamas, her hair still somewhat wet, as she stared at the laptop screen again, her inbox specifically, just waiting for a response to pop up. The door opened and Miranda walked in cautiously, not wanting to disturb her if she were up to something. But upon looking up and seeing her, Lilian simply beamed and held her arms open, making Miranda laugh and briskly walk to the bed, holding Lilian as she hugged around her waist.

"I missed you, did you have a good morning?" Lilian asked.

"Yeah. My sister wants to come work with us, but I told her it could be hard to get approved, and that we'd have to speak to Helena."

"Could be good for her though," Lilian said, "Lord knows that she could use something productive to do to keep her from feeling bad about herself. She seems like she thinks she's useless, and that isn't true, so maybe this will make her stop feeling that way?"

"Could be," Miranda said, resting her chin on Lilian's head as Lilian closed her eyes and kept smiling. All the horrors of the world outside, of the evils throughout their respective lives, nothing came into this room. This room was unvarnished and untouched by such things. A safe, warm and comforting space where only light and no darkness was allowed. A ping. Lilian opened one eye and peered at her brightly glowing laptop screen. A new email in her inbox. From Barbara Hawkins. Subject line: Requested Information. Lilian shivered as she reached out, her hand gently touching the trackpad, and she moved the cursor over the email.

And she clicked.