Michelle stood by the door in The Hole.

She had been let onto the lot by Eliza, while she and Keagan delivered puppets and props to the stage for that afternoons production shoot. Justine was supposed to be there already, to help Michelle, but she was running late. Michelle sighed and checked her watch, then shook her head again. Filming was set to start in an hour, which gave her and Justine only a bit of time to get everything they'd written transferred onto the large cue cards and get them into the hands of someone they trusted. Honestly though...she kind of couldn't believe she was doing this. Sabotaging the very thing she'd worked on and defended so ferociously for so long? It felt surreal. But Bea had put her in an awful position, and she needed to claw back whatever shred of control she could, regardless of how she did so.

The door opened.

Michelle turned to finally see Justine entering. Michelle rolled her eyes as Justine walked in, looking like she at least made the attempt to be well dressed, even if nothing really matched and her hair and makeup were still slipshod. She tossed the cue cards down onto a nearby table and Michelle raised an eyebrow.

"You managed to grab 'em?" she asked.

"That's mostly why I was late, cause walking across this entire lot is a trek. I had to go all the way to Keagan's studio in order to pick them up, she'd left them for us in there," Justine said.

"Well, that's nice at least," Michelle said.

"Got markers?" Justine asked.

"Yeah, I took some from Eliza's workstation in here," Michelle said. Justine took her coat off and tossed it onto a nearby chair as Michelle handed her a marker and, together, they walked to the table to start transcribing the script onto the cue cards. Justine pulled the marker cap off with her teeth, her other hand gripping an iced coffee in a glass bottle, and then spat it onto the table. Michelle glanced her way and asked quietly, "are you sure this is gonna work?"

"It'll work, don't worry," Justine said.

"Who are we even giving them too?" Michelle asked, but Justine didn't answer.

***

"I'm exhausted," Bea said.

She was sitting in Stephanie's office, while Stephanie sipped from a small, crystal, squircle shaped glass with whiskey. Bea was in costume, but the head was sitting on the table by the chair she was currently plopped down into.

"Not sleeping well?" Steph asked.

"The last little while has been so hectic and strange," Beatrice replied, "my daughter showing up, and now Leslie being weird about it all and I...I just don't get how having my child back in my life could be such a detriment to those I love when it's such a boon to myself. Wouldn't they want me to be happy?"

"Are you happy?" Stephanie asked, causing Bea to stop and think; Steph took another sip, scooped up some nuts from the bowl on her desk and dropped them in her mouth before adding, "cause you sure don't seem happy, Bea. You're in my office, commiserating, and when you're not being verbal about it all you're just sort of floating around the lot like someone in mourning."

"I'm happy, yes, just...not about the reception," Bea said.

"Listen, I'm not here to mitigate your emotions," Stephanie said, finally sitting upright and finishing her drink, clunking the glass down on the desktop before adding, "all I'm saying is that while you certainly deserve to celebrate the return of someone you thought you'd never see again, someone you birthed into this world, that joy doesn't evaporate others upset. Put aside Leslie, put aside Justine, put aside Eliza...let's talk about Michelle."

"I don't want to talk about Michelle," Bea said flatly.

"And why is that?"

"Michelle was never my daughter."

"So now that the real thing has come home the stand in can move on? Is that it?" Stephanie asked, and this caused Bea to visibly grimace and shake. Steph was clearly getting under her skin. She stood up and sat on her desk, refilling her glass, asking as she sipped and smacked her lips, "come on Bea, out with it, why would you fire the girl you gave so much to? The girl you gave an organ to, a future to, a partner to, a career to? You two are about as close as you and Liam had been, so why, now, would you-"

"I should've found her," Bea said, her voice so quiet Stephanie had trouble believing she'd even said anything at first. A moment passed as Bea buried her head in her hands, eyes cast to the floor; she went on, voice ever quieter, "...I should've found her, and I didn't. Wouldn't have been hard. Knew enough information to keep mildly up-to-date tabs. But I didn't do it. Figured she either wouldn't remember me, or had such a nice life she wouldn't need me, or that my presence would only complicate things or upset her."

Stephanie crossed her legs as she sat on the desk and continued drinking, Bea's breathing shaky and fractured.

"I just didn't want to interrupt her the way she interrupted us," Bea whispered, and she didn't even have to elaborate. Stephanie understood full well what she meant by this. She swirled her remaining drink in its glass and exhaled through her nose.

"Sounds to me like you're mad at yourself for not doing the thing the girls did for you," Steph said.

"I'm not even mad at them," Bea said, "I'm mad at Claire. She's the one who came looking. All the girls were doing was putting two and two together. But you can't be mad at your own child for wanting a relationship with you, for seeking you out after you gave them up. Last thing I want to do is make her feel as though she's unwelcome - because she isn't - and run away. But no, even that's an excuse I guess. I'm really mad at Liam. He left me here to deal with this all alone."

"Yeah, he was a good right hand man," Steph replied, smirking.

"No, not because he was good help," Bea said, wiping her nose on the costume arm, "because he was her father."

Stephanie almost couldn't even breath upon hearing this sentence. This goddamned year, she swore.

***

Only four or five cue cards remained, and Michelle and Justine were working tirelessly to complete them. Michelle knew they'd have to be handed off any minute now, considering the shoot was coming up, so she was trying to work as fast as possible while still maintaining their readability. She finished one, slid it to the side with the others and wiped her forehead with her arm.

"Did I ever tell you about the day of the crash?" Justine asked, and Michelle shrugged.

"Kinda, I mean, you talked about the crash, the aftermath, distancing yourself from your mom, that kind of stuff," Michelle said.

"No, not the crash proper, just the day of it, leading up to it," Justine said, "Peter and I, we got up five hours early so we could have a nice breakfast at home, make sure we were prepared. Airport wasn't a far drive, and yeah, it was a busy time of year to travel, but we figured we'd be fine. So we arrive, we check our luggage, and then we go through security and everything before we go sit in the waiting area, you know?"

"Not really, never been on a plane," Michelle said, and this caused Justine to pause and look up.

"WHAT?" she asked loudly, grinning, "oh, it's...there's nothing else like it, honestly. It's such a freeing feeling being so far away from everything else, in a place you aren't supposed to be. You don't even feel like an intruder, it's just...it's the closest thing to being in a dreamspace that we can possibly achieve while being awake. Well, and being sober."

The two laughed as they moved onto the last three cards. Justine cleared her throat and continued.

"Anyway," she went on, "we're sitting there, we're reading, we're chatting, we get some food. And then, we get called up to the gate, and the woman there tells us that somehow they messed up our tickets and that they'd booked us on a flight tomorrow, same seats, same plane, just a day later. But then she goes on to clarify that, hey, the seats you booked are technically empty on todays flight, we can bump you up."

"Didn't know they could do that," Michelle said.

"I think they can't, she was just trying to make up for it, cause it would make the airline look good," Justine said, shrugging, "either way, we talked it over for a minute, and ultimately I decided we should just take that option, get bumped up, and still get out today. After all our luggage was already checked in, so. So we boarded the plane, sat in our seats, and crashed."

Michelle stopped what she was doing and looked up, Justine hyped focused on finishing her final cue card.

"...so...if you'd just waited one day..." Michelle said, and Justine nodded, tears rolling down her face.

"Yeah," she said, "if we'd just waited one day. But he let me make the decision, and that decision got him killed. I miss Peter so much, every single day, and it is my fault that we were on there. We had the option not to be but I made the choice to do so. He is dead because of me. And every day I wake up and I expect him to be in bed or getting out of the shower. I expect him to come home from work. I expect the front door to open and he walks in and he tells me about his day and we go out to dinner. But that isn't reality anymore. The reality is Peter is dead, and I killed him, and I have to live with that guilt forever. Bea did the same thing to Casey. And she needs to remember she has to live with it, Claire isn't the first little girl she abandoned, and Casey won't be the last, if someone doesn't show her that her actions have consequences."

Michelle nodded slowly as she watched Justine finish the card then wipe her eyes on her arm. Michelle finished hers and they gathered them all together. Michelle didn't know who would be holding these, but she knew one thing, that was that what they'd written got their message across loud and clear. And Justine was right. For someone so pious in their belief about caring for the disadvantaged, Beatrice had openly practiced the opposite time and time again. It was time for the woman, not the dog, to be reminded of her power.

"Let's take these to the stage," Justine said, checking her watch, "they should be starting soon."

***

Beatrice was standing by the service table, snacking, as everyone set up around her. Stephanie was standing beside her, leaning against the table, arms crossed. Bea picked up another cheese cracker and bit into it the way a chipmunk nibbles on an acord. Steph glanced over and shook her head as Bea finished, then turned around to face the stage, the crew, the cast.

"I remember bringing Claire to a shoot," Bea said, "she probably doesn't remember it, she was barely 3, but we brought her. I held her on my hip and I told her 'look, look what mommy does for a living' and she babbled excitedly. I made Beatrice for me. But really Beatrice is for her. It's for every little girl whose parents didn't love them enough."

"Bold of you to actually include yourself in that statement given your recent actions," Steph said, scoffing.

"I'm not an idiot, Stephanie, I can recognize my faults and my failings and my fuckups," Bea said.

"Well worded trifecta," Steph replied, the both of them smirking.

"-it just hurts," Bea continued, "to know that, in reality, I'm actually as bad as some of the parents I criticize. I guess I sort of thought that Michelle was a way to redeem myself of those regrets. Here was another girl, a girl who'd loved what I made with such burning intensity as a child that it helped her get better, who adored me. I could give to her the things I couldn't give to Claire, because Claire had been there at the wrong time. In actuality, we never should've had a child. That sounds harsh, like I don't love my daughter, and that isn't the case, but..."

She paused, Stephanie tapping her foot, one eyebrow arched as she awaited the rest of this thought.

"...I just don't think the world needs more of me," Bea finally said, her voice weak, shaky, "I've done enough damage as it is, the last thing I need to do is create another version of me to keep that going. So I created art, instead. But Liam, and myself...we didn't know who we were when we were doing what we did, that was why we did it. Society made us feel as though we couldn't be anything else other than what they expect men and women to be, so we tried. Claire isn't the output of love, she's the output of trying to be anyone other than ourselves."

"...that's really fucking sad, Bea," Stephanie said, shaking her head, "I won't even stand here and pretend like it ain't, cause it is. But I don't think I agree. You and Liam may not have loved one another in the way a heterosexual couple would, but...you obviously loved one another on some strange, cosmic level. You two were more devoted to eachother as queer people than any straight married couple I've ever met. That has to count for something. So maybe, instead of seeing your own daughter as an extension of your worst self, borne out of trying to escape, see her as a person, just...a singular person, who exists, who loves you, because you brought her into the world. She came looking for you, Bea. Remember that."

With that, Stephanie turned and left. Bea thought on her words for a bit before turning herself and starting to head to the stage, bumping into Michelle, her eyes widening.

"What are you doing here? Who let you in?" Bea asked firmly.

"...I really thought you might be happy to see me," Michelle said, "I've lived in your shadow for so long that I forgot to cast my own. I was going to try and talk to you, but clearly your biggest interest is simply being annoyed at my presence."

"Michelle, I did what I did out of anger in the moment, and then I let that anger not subside, and I am sorry, but-"

"You would have none of this without me," Michelle said sternly through gritted teeth, her blood beginning to boil, "without Keagan. We built you this goddamn empire and it still wasn't enough. I don't think you're capable of being happy or satisfied, and not because you couldn't be, but because you don't want to be. You want to be this tortured artist trapped in the dwellings of her own pain and internalized grief, but you're just not that fucking interesting, Bea. You're really not. I tracked you down. I brought you out. I showed you what I built in your name. I helped you bring all of this to fruition. My anger isn't with Claire. She's like me, she just wanted her fucking mom."

Michelle and Bea stared at one another, each of them feeling their hearts breaking but unable to stop the split that was happening.

"I'm sorry," Bea whispered, "I...I'm sorry. You're right. I've preached for so long about being there, and helping, and being loved by those you trust to love you, and then I turned around and did the exact opposite. You're right. I should always do what Beatrice believes because-"

"You're not Beatrice Beagle," Michelle said, glaring at Bea, until her eyes softened and, with an exhausted sigh she added, "...you just play Beatrice Beagle."

"And you're not my daughter," Bea said, taking Michelle by surprise, "...but that didn't stop us from pretending you were. I have to get on stage."

Bea walked past Michelle, heading to the shoot. Michelle couldn't hear anything around her. All of this. All of it. Everything. It had come to this? THIS? This was the outcome of all their hard work and passion and partnership? She knew there were people talking around her, but their voices were blurred like images through wet glass. She couldn't come out of this stupor. At least not until Justine walked up and shook her arm.

"I found someone," Justine said, "I'm gonna pay her, she doesn't want this job anyway, and so I'm gonna give her the cards and she's gonna-"

"No," Michelle said, grabbing the cue cards from Justine and turning to her.

"Michelle, what are you-"

"I do this," Michelle said under her breath, "give me a pen."

Bea was on stage, the lights were set, the camera was rolling. She walked out from behind the doghouse, in full costume, and she yawned and stretched in character before turning to face the camera.

"These are the best mornings, aren't they? The mornings where the sun is bright, and you just know it's going to be a good day!" Bea said warmly towards the camera, "and what's a good day without good friends? Why, after all, it's friends who get you through the worst days, and only brighten the best, but sometimes friends can make you angry, can't they?"

Bea then realized who was holding the cards. Her eyes scanned upwards and met Michelle's, realizing she was trapped here, forced to read these if she didn't want to make a scene.

"Sometimes...friends can do downright awful things to one another, and sometimes they do it on accident but sometimes they do it on purpose. That's why it's important to forgive them, even if they do it on purpose, because...you still want them to be your friend. Like my friend, Michelle. She's just had a birthday, she's nine years old now, and she wrote in to say that it would mean the world to her if I would visit her for her birthday, but seeing as I cannot do that, I figure the best I can do is say Happy Birthday, Michelle. You are a beautiful, intelligent young lady and I am happy you exist. I hope you have the best birthday you can have, and realize that every day you're here is a special day."

Bea and Michelle stared at one another again, and the entire set was silent, knowing full well this was not the intended script to be followed. Michelle then dropped the cue cards on the floor and walked away.