"Every hotel prides itself on doing the bare minimum; fast wifi, a free hot breakfast, cable TV!" Ricky said, "like, congratulations, you want a medal for achieving the lowest effort? That's why people opt to stay at 5 star hotels, not because they actually care but because they at least give the illusion that they do, you know? They do more than the bare minimum and suddenly that makes them top dog."
"You sure have a lot of opinions on things that don't really matter," Rachel said as she scooped her scrambled eggs onto her fork, making Ricky laugh as he poured her more coffee then placed the pot back on the countertop for everyone else before seating himself at the table. Rachel picked up a hashbrown and bit into it before asking, while chewing, "so what's on the agenda today?"
"Well," Ricky said, "I've done quite a bit of digging as it is, in regards to Brighton and Wattson. Brighton was a pawn, nothing more. A sick fucking man, and good riddance, but a pawn. But Wattson, that's where the lead is, I think. He's who we should focus on. Cause, really, he wasn't the one in charge, but he was high up enough on the rank to have information. Unfortunately he's fucking dead, no thanks to your friend."
"Yeah, well, you'll be happy to know he not only complicated your life but everyone's," Rachel said, wiping her mouth on a nearby napkin, "take solace in the fact you aren't alone in your frustration."
"Wattson got a phone call," Ricky said, getting Rachels attention, causing her to look up from her plate as he added, "the night Brighton died. He got a phone call that informed him, then urged him to rush back here and deal with the aftermath. I think it's imperative we start with where that phone call originated from."
Rachel raised her eyebrows and smirked, nodding.
"Damn dude," she said, "you really ARE an investigator."
"I'm a liar for a living, but I don't lie about my skills," Ricky said, lifting his coffee mug up to reach hers as they clinked together and he said, "welcome to team, Rachel."
***
Celia was having a rather uneventful morning, but that was about to change. So far she'd gotten her son to school, done some light cleaning around the house, then taken some time for herself. A nice long bath, read a bit of a biography she was partway through and caught up on some paperwork. It was about 11 in the afternoon when her day finally started to shift, all thanks to a knock on her front door. Celia opened the door, only to find Paul standing there. She smiled, stepped aside politely, inviting him in.
"Uh, thanks," Paul said, "Sorry I didn't call beforehand."
"Oh, you're fine," Celia said, shutting the door behind him and heading back to the kitchen where she'd been cutting up some fruits for a smoothie. Paul followed her and watched her dump a handful of various fruit choppings into the blender, then continue cutting up more; Celia eyeballed him as she did, asking "so what's going on? What brings you 'round?"
"Actually," Paul said, "uh, this isn't really a good kinda visit. Celia..."
Celia nodded, nervous, but continuing to put the fruit into the blender. Paul sighed.
"...what do you know about Calvin Klepper?" he asked, and that took the wind right out of her.
"Ex...excuse me?" she asked.
"Calvin Klepper. Went to school with you. Apparently you guys were kinda friends over the last handful of months, until he died anyway. Anyway, it's a pretty unanimous opinion around the office that Klepper didn't kill himself, but that's whatever. What's a bigger, more unanimous opinion around the office is that he blew up the plane that was carrying The Evergreens. Klepper had ties to almost everyone on that plane; a weather girl named Kelly Schuester, best friend to Rachel Minnow, someone else you're both friends with, as well as his former teacher Leonard Wattson. We traced receipts for items he bought, items specifically used for making bombs. Did you know about any of this?"
Celia did her best to keep her cool, but it felt as though she were standing at the edge of lava, and didn't know how to not be burned. She shook her head, shrugging, not saying a word. Paul smirked weakly, knowing when she was lying.
"Celia," Paul continued, "Celia, I need you to be honest with me. because...I want shared custody of our son. And, if you're lying about this, I can't...I can't protect you from what's gonna come. But if you work with me, we can work out some kind of arrangement and-"
"Are you blackmailing me? Seriously? Is that what's happening right now?" Celia asked, looking up, sounding incredulous.
"I'm looking to find a solution that benefits us both," Paul said, "we can make this work so he has both parents, so that the right people get charged with aiding and abetting his crimes. It doesn't have to be you who goes down for it, Cels."
"You're out of your mind," Celia said, "yeah, okay, I knew him. We met at the reunion this year, but we were barely friends. We saw one another a few times outside of that, but that was only because we had mutual friends, like Rachel. Jesus, Paul, what kind of person do you think I am?"
"...a smart one," Paul said, taking her by surprise as he added, "that's...you're smart, Celia, that's why you're a success. That's why I wanted to build myself up, cause I couldn't compare to you. You were always the better one between us, and I wanted to be as good as you. Now I can be, and now I can protect you as well. But I want to have shared custody of our son in return."
Celia stood there, opposite kitchen counter from Paul, the knife gripped tightly as possible in her hand, gritting her teeth. Paul sighed and backed away.
"I'll give you some time to think about it," he said, "just...don't do what's wrong for him. He shouldn't have to lose his mother after losing his dad."
With that, Paul took a swift exit, leaving Celia reeling. Had he even actually returned to see their son, or was he simply on the case, trying to get information from her? Celia walked to the freezer, pulled out an icecube and ran it over her face, trying to cool down. Wyatt. She needed to call Wyatt. If anyone would know what to do, it'd be Wyatt, but where could they meet that Paul wouldn't be watching?
***
Rachel was sitting in the passenger seat of Ricky's car as they drove towards their destination, but she wasn't really saying much. Ricky turned the radio down, as she rolled down the window and exhaled the smoke from her cigarette out it. After a bit, she looked over at him and he smiled at her.
"So," Ricky said, "tell me about your girl."
"Not my girl anymore," Rachel said coldly.
"I mean...is that official?" Ricky asked.
"I guess not, we haven't really spoken to split up, but it feels pretty over. Either way I don't foresee her ever forgiving me," Rachel said, taking another long drag, "and it's probably for the best. I got to live my dream. I got to be with her for a while. But she's better off without me, that's for sure. Nobody who isn't directly involved in the situation should be involved with us."
Ricky grimaced. Rachel sounded utterly defeated when it came to her relationship, and he hated that. He hated what this had cost her. They finally pulled up to a small grey building, boxy and plain, and he parked. They climbed out of the car and started walking towards the front doors.
"What is this?" Rachel asked.
"This," Ricky said, "is where one comes when one wants to find out where a call originated from. Which is exactly what we're looking to achieve."
"And they just give that information out?" Rachel asked.
"How quickly we forget how good I am at my job," Ricky said, winking at her, making her chuckle. She appreciated his light heartedness, especially right now when all she really wanted to do was curl up into a ball and sob. Ricky opened the door, let her enter first, the followed her in, shutting it behind them. As they looked around the interior, Ricky elbowed Rachel, nodding towards the front desk, where a visibly queer looking woman was sitting. Rachel rolled her eyes and looked at him, and he smiled, laughing. They walked up to the desk, and the woman looked up at them.
"Hi, how can I help you today?" she asked.
"Hi there, Jennifer," Ricky said, reading her nametag, "my name is Saul Eckins, and I'm from corporate. I'm here today to try and get my new employee here caught up on how things work around here. This is Nicky Belle. See, she's going to be working in a location such as this, not at corporate with me, and I like to do on hands training, so I was hoping you could maybe show her the ropes."
"Oh, um, sure sir, yes, I can do that," Jennifer said, "please, excuse me, let me go and get a visits badge for her real fast."
Jennifer got up and quickly absconded to the back office, leaving Ricky and Rachel alone.
"Damn dude, you're good and all, but Nicky Belle? You gave me a porn star name," Rachel said, making Ricky laugh.
"Hey, who knows, it might help," Ricky said, "she's cute, right?"
"...what are you doing?" Rachel asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
"...breakups suck, even if you aren't technically broken up," Ricky said, "but you know what helps? Flirting. Getting your self worth back. And if you can do that while getting some work done, then what's the harm in that. Not like you're ever gonna see this woman again anyway."
"You're one hell of a wing man," Rachel said, trying not to laugh. She was genuinely touched by Ricky's kindness. Jennifer suddenly arrived back at the desk and gave Rachel the badge, with the name "Nicky" written on it, before telling her she'd be shadowing her around the office. As Rachel pinned the badge to her shirt, Ricky looked at Jennifer and stepped behind the desk.
"Just try and give her the basics, maybe a bit of in depth training, and don't worry about your post, I'm right here," Ricky said, "your supervisor will never know you left your post, I got ya covered."
Once Jennifer and Rachel were out of sight, Ricky sat down and started tapping away on the computer, trying to bring up Brighton's phone records, looking for Wattons' phone number. Once he found it, he started running that through the system, bringing up his call logs. He scoured the numbers, tracing them all back to their various points of origins. Various businesses, food deliveries, things of that nature. Sometimes a family member or two. And then, at the very end...
...a number that wasn't associated with any of those. Ricky grinned and snapped his fingers.
"Gotcha," he whispered.
***
Wyatt was laying on the couch, eating ice cream from the container, when there was a knock on the door. Wyatt sighed, got off the couch and walked over to the door, opening it and finding Celia standing in the hallway of the complex. She stared at him, eyeing him up and down. Wyatt, usually so well dressed, now standing before her in a v-neck t-shirt, shorts and a bathrobe. Wyatt stepped aside and let Celia enter, closing the door behind her.
"What are you doing?" Celia asked.
"Eating ice cream and watching romantic comedies," Wyatt said.
"Jesus, when did you turn into a divorced middle aged soccer mom with severe depression," Celia asked, smirking as Wyatt plopped himself back down on the couch. Celia came and sat on the footstool by the couch, and watched for a moment, glancing back and forth between the TV and Wyatt before picking up the remote and clicking the television off.
"Hey! Richard was about to win Ashley back!" Wyatt said.
"Okay dude, this is just sad," Celia said, "fearless leader this is not, and right now I need fearless leader."
"Maybe I don't wanna be fearless leader anymore," Wyatt said, "you ever think about that?"
"Wyatt...my ex is back, and he's threatening to take my son," Celia said, "he knows about Calvin. He knows about the bomb on the plane. He's a federal agent, an investigator, and we are cooked if this gets too out of hand. I need you right now, okay? I am...I am scared."
Wyatt finally sat back upright and put the empty ice cream container on the couch beside him, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his robe.
"Wait...start from the beginning," Wyatt said.
"My ex, with whom I have my son, has come back and wants shared custody. He's offering me protection, immunity from the consequences if I cooperate, as well as shared custody with our son. But that would mean turning you all over, and...Wyatt, all you've said is that we're a team, you, Rachel and I. By extension, I suppose, Kelly and Angie. I'm not gonna do that, I'm not gonna turn evidence on y'all just for the-"
"Do it," Wyatt said, shocking her.
"...wh...what?" she asked.
"Do it," Wyatt said, "Celia, if you can get immunity for yourself, not have your life disrupted, take it. I don't wanna see another family ripped apart. Take it. Place all the blame on Calvin and I. I'll take the fall, I don't care. Not like I got anything left anyway. Look around, Celia, I'm at rock bottom."
Celia couldn't believe what she was hearing. Here was a man, the man who'd weathered them through the worst storms, who now was just giving up. Celia stood up and grabbed the remote and started hitting Wyatt with it, causing him to recoil on the couch.
"Ow! That hurts!"
"Yeah, I bet!" she said, "what the fuck do you think you're saying?! You're content to lay here, watch shitty romantic comedies and just take the fall for things that weren't even started by you?! That isn't the Wyatt Bloom I know! The Wyatt Bloom I know is driven, and motivated, and ambitious. He'll stop at nothing to keep those he loves safe, and do whatever it takes to achieve that goal! The Wyatt Bloom I know is a man of honor and integrity! Not this...this robe coddled hobo you've become! This isn't Wyatt Bloom! Now you get the fuck up, you get fucking dressed and you help me figure this out or so help me god I will make sure you never have a moments peace ever again!"
Wyatt stared at her for a bit, then cracked the biggest smile. Celia started laughing, apologizing, and Wyatt stood up and hugged her. After all that had happened, this was really what he'd needed. Just one person to stand up and say to his face what she'd just said. After the hug, Wyatt pulled away and looked at her.
"Now go brush your teeth," Celia said, "we got work to do, and fearless leader don't do work with dirty chompers."
***
Ricky and Rachel got back into Ricky's car and started back towards the motel. Nothing on the radio. No conversation. Ricky had accomplished his goal, more or less, but Rachel seemed distant, far off and distracted. They pulled to a stoplight and came to a crawl. Rachel exhaled and pushed her bangs from her face.
"Thank you," she said.
"Come again?" Ricky asked.
"Thank you," Rachel repeated, "I...I needed today. I know we were doing something very serious, but...I needed this. To...to flirt with another woman, to...feel better in general. To feel useful. I needed that. I've always struggled so much with my queerness, especially now, and this helped a lot. I feel better about myself. I just want her back though."
Ricky nodded, sighing, as the light turned green and they continued.
"Yeah," he said, "yeah I know the feeling. I lost my girl too. I want her back. But that's just how things go. Sometimes people who seem important don't stick around for as long as we'd like them to. And that's okay. It's taken me a long time to come to terms with that, but it's the truth. I don't regret any of the time she and I shared, I'm grateful for the experience, the chance to have loved her, but...it stings."
"What happened?" Rachel asked, and Ricky grimaced.
"So I'm feeling like lunch, what do you say?" he asked.
Meanwhile, Wyatt was taking the trash out, cleaning up the apartment before Kelly got home. As he stood out by the dumpster, putting in two out of three bags, he heard a car door shut behind him and turned on his heel, only to see Angie there. He sighed, hand to his chest, smiling, until he noticed how ragged she looked. She looked as if she'd been sleeping in her car, and hadn't showered. Wyatt sighed, opened his arms, and Angie walked towards him, collapsing against him as he held her.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"I will be," she said weakly, "but before we can focus on me, I need you to do something."
"Anything," Wyatt said, "I'm back on track, let's do this. What is it?"
Angie pulled away and looked up at him.
"I need you to meet my cult leader," she said.
"You sure have a lot of opinions on things that don't really matter," Rachel said as she scooped her scrambled eggs onto her fork, making Ricky laugh as he poured her more coffee then placed the pot back on the countertop for everyone else before seating himself at the table. Rachel picked up a hashbrown and bit into it before asking, while chewing, "so what's on the agenda today?"
"Well," Ricky said, "I've done quite a bit of digging as it is, in regards to Brighton and Wattson. Brighton was a pawn, nothing more. A sick fucking man, and good riddance, but a pawn. But Wattson, that's where the lead is, I think. He's who we should focus on. Cause, really, he wasn't the one in charge, but he was high up enough on the rank to have information. Unfortunately he's fucking dead, no thanks to your friend."
"Yeah, well, you'll be happy to know he not only complicated your life but everyone's," Rachel said, wiping her mouth on a nearby napkin, "take solace in the fact you aren't alone in your frustration."
"Wattson got a phone call," Ricky said, getting Rachels attention, causing her to look up from her plate as he added, "the night Brighton died. He got a phone call that informed him, then urged him to rush back here and deal with the aftermath. I think it's imperative we start with where that phone call originated from."
Rachel raised her eyebrows and smirked, nodding.
"Damn dude," she said, "you really ARE an investigator."
"I'm a liar for a living, but I don't lie about my skills," Ricky said, lifting his coffee mug up to reach hers as they clinked together and he said, "welcome to team, Rachel."
***
Celia was having a rather uneventful morning, but that was about to change. So far she'd gotten her son to school, done some light cleaning around the house, then taken some time for herself. A nice long bath, read a bit of a biography she was partway through and caught up on some paperwork. It was about 11 in the afternoon when her day finally started to shift, all thanks to a knock on her front door. Celia opened the door, only to find Paul standing there. She smiled, stepped aside politely, inviting him in.
"Uh, thanks," Paul said, "Sorry I didn't call beforehand."
"Oh, you're fine," Celia said, shutting the door behind him and heading back to the kitchen where she'd been cutting up some fruits for a smoothie. Paul followed her and watched her dump a handful of various fruit choppings into the blender, then continue cutting up more; Celia eyeballed him as she did, asking "so what's going on? What brings you 'round?"
"Actually," Paul said, "uh, this isn't really a good kinda visit. Celia..."
Celia nodded, nervous, but continuing to put the fruit into the blender. Paul sighed.
"...what do you know about Calvin Klepper?" he asked, and that took the wind right out of her.
"Ex...excuse me?" she asked.
"Calvin Klepper. Went to school with you. Apparently you guys were kinda friends over the last handful of months, until he died anyway. Anyway, it's a pretty unanimous opinion around the office that Klepper didn't kill himself, but that's whatever. What's a bigger, more unanimous opinion around the office is that he blew up the plane that was carrying The Evergreens. Klepper had ties to almost everyone on that plane; a weather girl named Kelly Schuester, best friend to Rachel Minnow, someone else you're both friends with, as well as his former teacher Leonard Wattson. We traced receipts for items he bought, items specifically used for making bombs. Did you know about any of this?"
Celia did her best to keep her cool, but it felt as though she were standing at the edge of lava, and didn't know how to not be burned. She shook her head, shrugging, not saying a word. Paul smirked weakly, knowing when she was lying.
"Celia," Paul continued, "Celia, I need you to be honest with me. because...I want shared custody of our son. And, if you're lying about this, I can't...I can't protect you from what's gonna come. But if you work with me, we can work out some kind of arrangement and-"
"Are you blackmailing me? Seriously? Is that what's happening right now?" Celia asked, looking up, sounding incredulous.
"I'm looking to find a solution that benefits us both," Paul said, "we can make this work so he has both parents, so that the right people get charged with aiding and abetting his crimes. It doesn't have to be you who goes down for it, Cels."
"You're out of your mind," Celia said, "yeah, okay, I knew him. We met at the reunion this year, but we were barely friends. We saw one another a few times outside of that, but that was only because we had mutual friends, like Rachel. Jesus, Paul, what kind of person do you think I am?"
"...a smart one," Paul said, taking her by surprise as he added, "that's...you're smart, Celia, that's why you're a success. That's why I wanted to build myself up, cause I couldn't compare to you. You were always the better one between us, and I wanted to be as good as you. Now I can be, and now I can protect you as well. But I want to have shared custody of our son in return."
Celia stood there, opposite kitchen counter from Paul, the knife gripped tightly as possible in her hand, gritting her teeth. Paul sighed and backed away.
"I'll give you some time to think about it," he said, "just...don't do what's wrong for him. He shouldn't have to lose his mother after losing his dad."
With that, Paul took a swift exit, leaving Celia reeling. Had he even actually returned to see their son, or was he simply on the case, trying to get information from her? Celia walked to the freezer, pulled out an icecube and ran it over her face, trying to cool down. Wyatt. She needed to call Wyatt. If anyone would know what to do, it'd be Wyatt, but where could they meet that Paul wouldn't be watching?
***
Rachel was sitting in the passenger seat of Ricky's car as they drove towards their destination, but she wasn't really saying much. Ricky turned the radio down, as she rolled down the window and exhaled the smoke from her cigarette out it. After a bit, she looked over at him and he smiled at her.
"So," Ricky said, "tell me about your girl."
"Not my girl anymore," Rachel said coldly.
"I mean...is that official?" Ricky asked.
"I guess not, we haven't really spoken to split up, but it feels pretty over. Either way I don't foresee her ever forgiving me," Rachel said, taking another long drag, "and it's probably for the best. I got to live my dream. I got to be with her for a while. But she's better off without me, that's for sure. Nobody who isn't directly involved in the situation should be involved with us."
Ricky grimaced. Rachel sounded utterly defeated when it came to her relationship, and he hated that. He hated what this had cost her. They finally pulled up to a small grey building, boxy and plain, and he parked. They climbed out of the car and started walking towards the front doors.
"What is this?" Rachel asked.
"This," Ricky said, "is where one comes when one wants to find out where a call originated from. Which is exactly what we're looking to achieve."
"And they just give that information out?" Rachel asked.
"How quickly we forget how good I am at my job," Ricky said, winking at her, making her chuckle. She appreciated his light heartedness, especially right now when all she really wanted to do was curl up into a ball and sob. Ricky opened the door, let her enter first, the followed her in, shutting it behind them. As they looked around the interior, Ricky elbowed Rachel, nodding towards the front desk, where a visibly queer looking woman was sitting. Rachel rolled her eyes and looked at him, and he smiled, laughing. They walked up to the desk, and the woman looked up at them.
"Hi, how can I help you today?" she asked.
"Hi there, Jennifer," Ricky said, reading her nametag, "my name is Saul Eckins, and I'm from corporate. I'm here today to try and get my new employee here caught up on how things work around here. This is Nicky Belle. See, she's going to be working in a location such as this, not at corporate with me, and I like to do on hands training, so I was hoping you could maybe show her the ropes."
"Oh, um, sure sir, yes, I can do that," Jennifer said, "please, excuse me, let me go and get a visits badge for her real fast."
Jennifer got up and quickly absconded to the back office, leaving Ricky and Rachel alone.
"Damn dude, you're good and all, but Nicky Belle? You gave me a porn star name," Rachel said, making Ricky laugh.
"Hey, who knows, it might help," Ricky said, "she's cute, right?"
"...what are you doing?" Rachel asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
"...breakups suck, even if you aren't technically broken up," Ricky said, "but you know what helps? Flirting. Getting your self worth back. And if you can do that while getting some work done, then what's the harm in that. Not like you're ever gonna see this woman again anyway."
"You're one hell of a wing man," Rachel said, trying not to laugh. She was genuinely touched by Ricky's kindness. Jennifer suddenly arrived back at the desk and gave Rachel the badge, with the name "Nicky" written on it, before telling her she'd be shadowing her around the office. As Rachel pinned the badge to her shirt, Ricky looked at Jennifer and stepped behind the desk.
"Just try and give her the basics, maybe a bit of in depth training, and don't worry about your post, I'm right here," Ricky said, "your supervisor will never know you left your post, I got ya covered."
Once Jennifer and Rachel were out of sight, Ricky sat down and started tapping away on the computer, trying to bring up Brighton's phone records, looking for Wattons' phone number. Once he found it, he started running that through the system, bringing up his call logs. He scoured the numbers, tracing them all back to their various points of origins. Various businesses, food deliveries, things of that nature. Sometimes a family member or two. And then, at the very end...
...a number that wasn't associated with any of those. Ricky grinned and snapped his fingers.
"Gotcha," he whispered.
***
Wyatt was laying on the couch, eating ice cream from the container, when there was a knock on the door. Wyatt sighed, got off the couch and walked over to the door, opening it and finding Celia standing in the hallway of the complex. She stared at him, eyeing him up and down. Wyatt, usually so well dressed, now standing before her in a v-neck t-shirt, shorts and a bathrobe. Wyatt stepped aside and let Celia enter, closing the door behind her.
"What are you doing?" Celia asked.
"Eating ice cream and watching romantic comedies," Wyatt said.
"Jesus, when did you turn into a divorced middle aged soccer mom with severe depression," Celia asked, smirking as Wyatt plopped himself back down on the couch. Celia came and sat on the footstool by the couch, and watched for a moment, glancing back and forth between the TV and Wyatt before picking up the remote and clicking the television off.
"Hey! Richard was about to win Ashley back!" Wyatt said.
"Okay dude, this is just sad," Celia said, "fearless leader this is not, and right now I need fearless leader."
"Maybe I don't wanna be fearless leader anymore," Wyatt said, "you ever think about that?"
"Wyatt...my ex is back, and he's threatening to take my son," Celia said, "he knows about Calvin. He knows about the bomb on the plane. He's a federal agent, an investigator, and we are cooked if this gets too out of hand. I need you right now, okay? I am...I am scared."
Wyatt finally sat back upright and put the empty ice cream container on the couch beside him, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his robe.
"Wait...start from the beginning," Wyatt said.
"My ex, with whom I have my son, has come back and wants shared custody. He's offering me protection, immunity from the consequences if I cooperate, as well as shared custody with our son. But that would mean turning you all over, and...Wyatt, all you've said is that we're a team, you, Rachel and I. By extension, I suppose, Kelly and Angie. I'm not gonna do that, I'm not gonna turn evidence on y'all just for the-"
"Do it," Wyatt said, shocking her.
"...wh...what?" she asked.
"Do it," Wyatt said, "Celia, if you can get immunity for yourself, not have your life disrupted, take it. I don't wanna see another family ripped apart. Take it. Place all the blame on Calvin and I. I'll take the fall, I don't care. Not like I got anything left anyway. Look around, Celia, I'm at rock bottom."
Celia couldn't believe what she was hearing. Here was a man, the man who'd weathered them through the worst storms, who now was just giving up. Celia stood up and grabbed the remote and started hitting Wyatt with it, causing him to recoil on the couch.
"Ow! That hurts!"
"Yeah, I bet!" she said, "what the fuck do you think you're saying?! You're content to lay here, watch shitty romantic comedies and just take the fall for things that weren't even started by you?! That isn't the Wyatt Bloom I know! The Wyatt Bloom I know is driven, and motivated, and ambitious. He'll stop at nothing to keep those he loves safe, and do whatever it takes to achieve that goal! The Wyatt Bloom I know is a man of honor and integrity! Not this...this robe coddled hobo you've become! This isn't Wyatt Bloom! Now you get the fuck up, you get fucking dressed and you help me figure this out or so help me god I will make sure you never have a moments peace ever again!"
Wyatt stared at her for a bit, then cracked the biggest smile. Celia started laughing, apologizing, and Wyatt stood up and hugged her. After all that had happened, this was really what he'd needed. Just one person to stand up and say to his face what she'd just said. After the hug, Wyatt pulled away and looked at her.
"Now go brush your teeth," Celia said, "we got work to do, and fearless leader don't do work with dirty chompers."
***
Ricky and Rachel got back into Ricky's car and started back towards the motel. Nothing on the radio. No conversation. Ricky had accomplished his goal, more or less, but Rachel seemed distant, far off and distracted. They pulled to a stoplight and came to a crawl. Rachel exhaled and pushed her bangs from her face.
"Thank you," she said.
"Come again?" Ricky asked.
"Thank you," Rachel repeated, "I...I needed today. I know we were doing something very serious, but...I needed this. To...to flirt with another woman, to...feel better in general. To feel useful. I needed that. I've always struggled so much with my queerness, especially now, and this helped a lot. I feel better about myself. I just want her back though."
Ricky nodded, sighing, as the light turned green and they continued.
"Yeah," he said, "yeah I know the feeling. I lost my girl too. I want her back. But that's just how things go. Sometimes people who seem important don't stick around for as long as we'd like them to. And that's okay. It's taken me a long time to come to terms with that, but it's the truth. I don't regret any of the time she and I shared, I'm grateful for the experience, the chance to have loved her, but...it stings."
"What happened?" Rachel asked, and Ricky grimaced.
"So I'm feeling like lunch, what do you say?" he asked.
Meanwhile, Wyatt was taking the trash out, cleaning up the apartment before Kelly got home. As he stood out by the dumpster, putting in two out of three bags, he heard a car door shut behind him and turned on his heel, only to see Angie there. He sighed, hand to his chest, smiling, until he noticed how ragged she looked. She looked as if she'd been sleeping in her car, and hadn't showered. Wyatt sighed, opened his arms, and Angie walked towards him, collapsing against him as he held her.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"I will be," she said weakly, "but before we can focus on me, I need you to do something."
"Anything," Wyatt said, "I'm back on track, let's do this. What is it?"
Angie pulled away and looked up at him.
"I need you to meet my cult leader," she said.