Raymond Sykes was never late.

He was always punctual, always on time, lived life to the tick of a clock. He planned his days meticulously, and to the letter. This morning, for instance, he woke up at his normal time, showered, shaved, got dressed, got coffee, and headed into the office. He was a slave to the routine in the most successful kind of way. As he strolled into the building, heading down the hall to his office, he couldn't help but think about what else he had on his plate for today. He opened the door to his office and stepped inside, surprised to find a woman already inside. She had red hair and was wearing a slimming black dress with a large black sunhat, a white ribbon tied around it. She turned to face him as he entered, pulling the large sunglasses down the bridge of her nose.

"Hello," Raymond said hesitantly, shutting the door behind him.

"I'm sorry, I hope this isn't an intrusion," the woman said, "I was told it would be okay to wait in here by your secretary."

"Oh, yes, it's more than fine," Raymond replied, walking around her and getting behind his desk, plopping his briefcase and coffee down on its topside before looking at her; he raised an eyebrow and asked, "though I am curious who you are."

"Right, I'm sorry, I'm all out of sorts," the woman said, "I'm Heather Bastion, Chuck Bastion's daughter. I was told you were familiar with my father."

"I was, I'm sorry to hear of his passing. Wasn't aware he had any kids," Raymond said as he sat down at his desk and nervously adjusted his tie.

"Well, to be fair, we were related in blood only," the woman said, sitting in the chair opposite Raymond, continuing, "I mean, he wasn't exactly cut out to be a father, and my stepfather wasn't too pleased about his wife having a child with another man. But I'm not here to give you my life story. I'm here to ask a favor. My father once spoke to me of his business, about how he helped funnel money through tax shelters for casinos. Said they funded not just his continued political career, but others as well. I was just hoping to have some documents to perhaps verify things, so that I can continue to be the recipient of his...generosity, now that he's gone."

"I see you're as morally bankrupt as the rest of us," Raymond replied, smirking.

"I'm not going to question where money comes from so long as it goes to me," the woman said, leaning back in her chair, grinning, making Raymond laugh.

"Chuck was a good friend, and we did do a lot of business together," he said, "I wouldn't mind helping you with that. But why would you be in financial straits, don't you have parents?"

"Not anymore," the woman said, "um, my folks, well, let's just say they were less than pleased when I...when I told them I fancy women over men. Seems love is apparently the biggest sin one can commit."

Raymond's face softened, and he reached across the table, patting her hand.

"I'm very sorry to hear that, that's...that's no way to treat your child," he said, "so you're just looking for doctored paperwork, right? Stuff that'll keep the IRS from being interested and keep you in the loop, financial wise? Because I've got all that. We can do this over a series of a few visits."

"That would be so lovely, thank you so much. Ever since he died, people have been...less than helpful," the woman said, smiling warmly at him, causing him to smile in return. As Raymond got up and started digging through a nearby filing cabinet, the woman stayed sat in her chair, watching closely. She was so good at this. She was such a good liar. After spending her life being a chameleon, always changing herself up for new opportunities, new chances at success, she had become an expert at it. This? This would be a breeze compared to running a cult. Claire really knew her skills.

                                                                             ***

"Am I the only one partially concerned with how many practice attempts this has taken him?" Benny asked, "I mean, if he was good at it, wouldn't it...ya know...not take that many attempts?"

Benny, Salem, Allie and Molly were at yet another one of Jackson Strange's public practice attempts at his upcoming Glass Box trick. Standing amongst the crowd, Salem was clearly nervous, constantly tugging on the tassels from his windbreaker hood, as Allie eyeballed him. Molly was busy eating a churro, while Benny downed a whole can of Root Beer. Benny finished his drunk, scrunched the can in his fist and tossed it into a nearby trashcan.

"Tricks like this are dangerous, you of all people should know that," Allie said, "not because you do them, but because you work in the industry."

"Tricks like this are bullshit, is what they are, a spectacle, nothing else," Salem said, finally breaking his silence, "tricks like this are what cause accidents, and accidents are what causes loss of faith in performers in the general public. This man is a menace not just to those around him but to our profession."

"This guy's angry, I like him" Benny said, causing Molly to chuckle.

"All I'm saying is things like this are what causes general unease in audiences," Salem said, "because they come to a show like this for escapism-"

"Quite literally that's what he's doing," Benny said, making Allie laugh.

"-and yet," Salem continued, "what they might get instead, if done incorrectly, is their very life threatened. This thing is a supposedly glass box, suspended feet in the air above people outside, and if anything were to go wrong, and I'm not even speaking on Strange's behalf in regards to his abilities but moreso to the preparation of the trick itself, then this thing could fall and shatter and hurt lots of people."

Allie chewed her lip and nodded, listening closely.

"Yeah," she muttered, "yeah it could."

                                                                           ***

"Here," Zoe said, putting the device down on the desk of Agent Siskel, who looked up at her, plopping her chopsticks down in her take out container.

"That didn't seem very difficult," Agent Siskel said, and Zoe shrugged.

"I got in, planted it, got out and then went back," Zoe answered, "I did exactly what you asked me. I think there's probably a lot of good stuff on there, he has a lot of meetings with this shady 'lawyer' named Raindrop, so I don't think you're gonna have to search too far for the answers you're needing."

"Raindrop?" Agent Siskel asked, picking up the device and looking at it, then putting it back down, "Raindrop Mullens? Kind of a...a lithe, very cold woman who speaks in a stilted way?"

Zoe nodded, confused. Agent Siskel backed her chair away from her desk, climbed out of it and headed to a nearby file cabinet. After sifting through some folders briefly, she finally came away with an envelope that she plopped down on the desk as she seated herself once more, opening it. Zoe watched in confusion as Agent Siskel slid the papers inside out onto the desk and shook her head.

"She's been a problematic lawyer for years," Agent Siskel said, "always helping those who shouldn't be receiving help, those clearly committing crimes they should pay the consequences for. After Nicole, who used to doctor all of her fathers papers for tax shelters blew her brains out, Raymond needed someone else to do just that. Suffice to say, if she's 'working' for Tony, she's not working for Tony."

"...aw fuck," Zoe mumbled, rubbing a palm over her face as she slumped more in her chair, "it's always something."

"However, she clearly has no knowledge of what's going on between you guys and us, being in the middle of all of this, which provides us with the chance to gain invaluable insight into her dealings. Take her out. Get her drunk. Make her talk. She's a criminal lawyer but she's also a lush, and I guarantee enough drink on her lips and a pretty girl to talk to, and she'll crack wide open like a walnut."

"You do realize you're not in Dragnet, right? You don't have to talk like this," Zoe said, "so now I have to take this girl out? Pretend to be interested in her? I just got engaged! My fiance doesn't know about any of this, what if she-"

"Zoe," Agent Siskel said, putting the papers down and cupping her hands on the desktop, clearing her throat, "Allie's looking at taking a lot of time behind bars for what she did. Granted, she's taking a deal for a longer sentence to ensure none of her accomplices also face charges. Noble, certainly, but still. You wanna help reduce that sentence even further? Do this. Get Raindrop on the same charges we're going after Tony and Raymond for, and Allie maybe won't spend a good part of her late 30s in prison."

Zoe sighed. She knew Allie had taken a deal. She knew Allie was doing her best to shield the others from the consequences of her actions, and their interaction with them. She figured, hell, she owed her that much. Zoe nodded.

"I'll do it," Zoe whispered, "but I won't be happy about it."

"That's life, kid," Agent Siskel said.

                                                                         ***

Rachel St. Sebastian was making dinner.

She loved to cook. For all the work she did in a rather unsettling and predominantly male field of business, she was extremely feminine, and cooking was one of her favorite hobbies. It was just that she so rarely had the time or energy to do so anymore. But tonight? Tonight was special. Tonight she was doing something nice, not just for herself, but for Claire as well. She had a gorgeous glazed duck in the oven, she had made mashed potatoes from scratch, she had created a vegetable medley of sorts. It was going to knock Claire's socks off. Rachel checked the duck once more, then shut the oven lid and turned, screaming, hand to her chest as she saw Claire sitting down at the kitchen table.

"Christ, you're so good at that," Rachel said, making Claire smirk; Rachel then furrowed her brow, "why...why are you dressed like a high priced call girl?"

"I was going more for a rich uppity wasp, but okay," Claire said, removing her earrings, "I had a meeting today. Something smells good in here. Are you cooking?"

"I, yeah, I am. For you. For us, whatever. I didn't have much work today, so," Rachel said, flustered, "you had a meeting? What kind of meeting?"

"You know, a meeting. Something where you get together with someone, in this case someone very prominent, and you discuss business," Claire said, standing up and approaching the stove, putting her hands on Rachel's shoulders and leaning in, pushing her lips on her neck, whispering, "and to think, after that, I get to come home to such domesticity. What a lucky girl I am."

Claire kissed Rachel's neck, and Rachel seized up, half out of lust and half out of fear. What wasn't Claire telling her? After being necked for a bit, Rachel then gently pushed Claire away and caught her breath.

"Where were you?" Rachel asked, this time more sternly.

"I told you, I had a meeting."

"No, you don't get to be vague, okay? I helped you do what you did, we're partners in more ways than one, and-"

"Oh we are? Was that your decision?" Claire asked, causing Rachel's blood to run cold; Claire smiled, "sweetheart, yes, you did good, helping me, protecting me, but let's get one thing clear here above all else, okay? You're not my partner. Not in a business sense, and not in a romantic sense."

Rachel's breath became shaky, as she stumbled back against the counter, grasping it with her hands, terrified.

"wh...what am I then?" Rachel asked quietly as Claire grabbed her by the chin and smiled.

"You're my pet, of course," Claire said, "my pretty, precious pet. Now, let me know when dinner is finished, I have to go make a phone call."

With that, Claire exited the room, leaving Rachel visibly shaking. Rachel clambored for her cigarettes, grabbing the carton and retrieving one, lighting it and smoking right there in the kitchen. She hated smoking in the house, but sometimes...sometimes she didn't have a choice. A pet? That's what Claire thought of her. Rachel could feel her heart breaking. All she wanted was for this girl to be stable, to love her in a genuinely romantic way, and yet she was...a pet? Then again, Claire didn't feel the things ordinary people felt. She didn't understand human emotions. She was a sociopath. Rachel knew she was asking for too much. But she still wished for it, as every woman does. To be loved unconditionally, by people who will never do so.

Claire, meanwhile, headed down the hallway and into the bedroom, shutting the door and locking it behind her. She picked up the landline on the bedside table as she seated herself on the bed and started to push her heels off with her feet. She dialed, then waited for a bit. Finally, after about seven rings, it went to voicemail.

"Meers, it's Claire. We need to talk," Claire said.

                                                                           ***

Allie didn't get back to the suite until late that night.

After seeing Strange's practice performance, she and the others went out to eat and plan, and after that, Benny and Molly went home, while she and Salem stayed out a bit longer. They discussed the ethics of magic, the morality of Vegas, and everything in between. Salem was a smart guy, Allie quickly discovered, and she was more than happy to have him on her team. When she finally did get back to the suite, she stepped inside and was instantly ready for a bath, but she quickly discovered she wasn't alone. Zoe was sitting on her couch, looking terrible. Her makeup was smeared, running down her face, and she was drinking, something Allie rarely saw.

"Zoe?" Allie asked, as she approached the couch.

"Yeah, hi, hello," Zoe said.

"What are you...why are...are you okay?" Allie asked, and Zoe shrugged.

"Is anyone, at this point? What even is 'ok' anymore? We're all fucked, Allie," Zoe said, "we're all so fucking fucked. This is a nightmare, a never ending nightmare and I can't even begin to pretend that it isn't anymore. I thought, ya know, for a while, maybe I could convince myself things would even out, would somehow...would somehow get fixed, but they aren't ever getting fixed. This isn't ever going to go away."

Allie climbed over the couch and sat down beside Zoe, taking the drink from her hand and placing it on the coffee table in front of them before rubbing her back.

"Zoe, it's going to end, okay, that's a guarantee, because there's no way a crime of this magnitude goes on indefinitely, especially not when there's so much evidence already gathered," Allie said, "I get that you're feeling scared and overwhelmed, and right now it feels like it'll always be this way, but it won't. I promise."

Zoe looked at Allie, her eyes wide and watery, her curly bangs falling down over her face.

"You took the whole blame," Zoe said, "I know you said it, and then the agent said it today, but I don't think it really sunk in until this moment what that means. It means you are taking full responsibility, will face the full brunt of the consequences. I...I can't believe someone would do that, especially not someone who was once so selfish, and god I'm sorry that was rude to say but-"

"No, it wasn't rude, it was right. I was selfish. I was a drug addict, an alcoholic, losing my job, my boyfriend, with no friends. When we met, I was at absolute rock bottom, and that's what I'm trying to prevent all of you from reaching as well. You especially, Zoe. You don't...you deserve better. So much better. It's going to end. We are getting so close, believe me. After we get into the vault in a few days, god, it's all going to change."

"We're all Jackson Strange," Zoe wept, "we're all trapped in a glass box, vying to get out, terrified of what happens if we don't, and it's suspended above everyone who can see our failures. Can see our faults. Can see our flaws. They know we're frauds. Fakes. They know we're going to underperform. I'm so scared."

"You are not Jackson Strange," Allie said, "and you're not going to stayed trapped in the glass box, I'm making damn sure of that."

Zoe leaned in and hugged Allie, as Allie, surprised but pleased, hugged her back.

"you're my hero," Zoe mumbled through her tears, and Allie's heart broke a little. Flattered, certainly, but she wished Zoe had better heroes. After a moment, Zoe held up her hand, saying as she weeped, "I got engaged. Effie asked me to marry her," and Allie smiled so wide. She wanted Zoe to be loved, to be taken care of, and she knew Effie adored her to the ends of the earth. Things really would be okay. Behind them the phone rang, and after a handful of rings, it went to voicemail, where Claire's voice rang out loud and clear.

"Meers, it's Claire. We need to talk," she said.

If anything, it wasn't the end of everything that worried Allie. She knew how it would end. Tony and Raymond would be held accountable for their crimes, she herself would spend time behind bars for the things she'd done, and everyone else would get off relatively scottfree. Molly, Olivia and Benny would leave town, presumably. Salem would likely go back to his quiet, unbothered existence. Zoe would continue to perform, likely better than she ever had before, and be a married woman. The one wild card, however, was Claire. Allie didn't know where things would end with Claire.

And to be honest...

...she was fucking scared to find out.