"I thought you were my friend," Molly whispered, wiping her eyes on her oversized sweater sleeves, "I thought...I thought you actually liked me, and wanted to know me."

"It's not personal," Kristin said, "Molly, it really isn't. I didn't wanna hurt you, especially after getting to know you, but...but you were the closest and easiest source to attach to. I'm sorry. You're such a sweet person, and you really don't deserve this, nor do you deserve what she's putting you through."

Molly nodded momentarily, then furrowed her brow and shook her head, squinting angrily as she looked up at Kristin.

"Actually no," Molly said, "you don't get to say that, because she might be a mess, but she's stuck by me. She's included me. She came clean of her own accord, I didn't have to stumble into it like I did with you. So yeah, she might be a mess. But we're a mess together, and you don't get to judge her."

Kristin smiled weakly.

"I certainly commend your loyalty," she said, "now if you'll excuse me, I have someone to get this information to."

                                                            7 HOURS EARLIER

"Where are we going?" Allie asked, as Claire rolled down her window and flicked her cigarette out.

"We're going somewhere we won't be bothered," she replied, "don't worry, nobody here is going to harm anyone. We're all on the same team. We just have some shit to talk through. Obviously something serious has come up if I've been released, you figure. Well, there's two FBI agents who are trying desperately to get close to you. Agent Siskel and Agent Tropper. They're the ones who got Sunny's body, and the tomb, before Rachel here snatched it back for us."

"What...what do they want with me?" Allie asked, she and Zoe both looking confused at this.

Rachel pulled the car into an empty casino parking lot. This casino, Dante's Inferno, had gone under a number of years ago, and while originally it had been slated to be imploded and replaced with something else, the deal fell through, and now the place sat decrepit and abandoned. The perfect place for someone like Claire to have a meeting. As Rachel parked and turned the car off, the girls all opened their respective doors and exited. Claire lit another cigarette, then offered one to Allie, who waved it away politely.

"I only smoke hemp now," she said.

"Wow, good for you," Claire said, non mockingly as she took a long drag then continued, "they want you, Allie, because they're certain you killed Sunny. But they also seem to think you might've had a hand in uncovering something for them. Something about your boss. What that is, I don't know. I just know they're curious. They specifically released me to talk to you and get you to meet them. But...you and I are two sides of the same coin-"

"Except I don't kill people," Allie said, before nervously adding, "...purposefully."

"Neither do I," Claire said, "when I'm on medication, I'm pure as snow. But my illness and the actions thereof do not define me, just as your own do not define you, and I think they recognize that and recognize that there's some merit to your decisions, some sort of contextual justification if you will. That's why they want you."

"Yeah, well, good luck getting me to meet with them," Allie said sternly as she leaned against the car. A moment passed and nobody said a thing, as Rachel reached back inside and grabbed her water bottle, unscrewed it and took a long drink. Finally, Zoe cleared her throat, folded her arms and looked at Allie.

"It might not hurt," she finally said, making Allie's eyes widen in shock.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"It might not hurt. Hell, it might lessen whatever sentence you were going to get if you got caught," Zoe said.

"I'm not gonna have gone through all the trouble to cover up a murder, steal back the corpse and dump it in a tiger pit, only to have someone else be harmed by proxy, just to then waltz into their office and say 'hey, sure I'll be your puppet!'. Zoe, do you have any idea how much effort it took just to keep us off the radar?"

"And yet we're clearly not off the radar if they're releasing nearly convicted killers to approach us," Zoe said sternly. Allie pulled herself off the car and approached Zoe, the two of them posturing before eachother, each uncertain how the other might react; Zoe continued, "Allie...I think it's time. It's time to own up to it. Obviously something bigger is going on here than just catching Sunny's murderer. They say it has something to do with Tony?" she asked, glancing back at Claire.

"That's the notion I got," she said, shrugging, "but I only heard snippets. I don't know what it could be or why. Just that they want you because you're close to him."

"...how could you even suggest this?" Allie whispered, "after all I did for you-"

"Did for ME? No. You killed Sunny to keep him getting me on drugs, something that is both admirable and unnecessary, and while I appreciate you thinking so fondly of my wellbeing, everything since then has simply been to cover up that act, an act YOU did. None of that was for me. I did nothing wrong. Yet here I am, going along with it, having secret meetings in defunct parking lots with serial killers to try and keep the lie alive! All I wanted was to perform magic with you!"

Zoe was, and somewhat rightfully so, steaming mad. Allie, however, couldn't see past her own issues to recognize why, and instead she took it as a personal attack.

"How dare you," Allie snarled, "how dare you even suggest I had some ulterior motive! Everything I've done has been to protect you!"

"Oh grow up and stop trying to disguise your misdeeds as a defense of the wellfare of others!" Zoe shouted, "you killed a man! She killed many men!"

"I did," Claire nodded, "I won't deny it."

"You two have far more in common than we ever did," Zoe said quietly, and this set Allie off. She screamed and ran at her, tackling her. Claire and Rachel stood away a bit, just letting the girls have it out. Allie bit Zoe on the arm, and Zoe grabbed the back of Allie's head and yanked her head back before spitting in her face, then rolled out from underneath her. Allie wiped the spit from her face with her jacket sleeve, then grabbed Zoe's ankles and brought her back down to the ground. Allie then climbed on top of her and pinned her wrists down by her head and looked in her eyes.

"....I never needed you," Allie whispered, "He assigned you to me, remember that, I could've gotten sober and been successful again without you."

"Fuck that, you needed a catalyst, someone to care about because you couldn't care about yourself," Zoe replied harshly, "in fact that's why you do anything for anyone else, so you can avoid ever doing it for yourself. You wanna be a fucking martyr, go ahead, but I'm done being taken down to hell with you."

Allie laid there atop Zoe for a moment, their eyes locked, and then she finally released Zoe's wrists and rolled off of her. Rachel approached and helped Zoe up, as Zoe wiped herself off from the grit and the dirt of the parking lot. Allie sat on the ground, her legs pulled up to her chest and her arms hugging them. Claire walked slowly up before her and sat down, cross legged, holding out the remainder of her cigarette, and this time Allie happily took it.

"Okay," Claire said, "clearly you two had some issues to resolve. I'm happy to have mediated during that frank exchange of beliefs. But Allie, you know I wouldn't steer you wrong. You came to me, one of the only people to come visit me in prison, and you asked for my advice. At a time when I was avoided, treated like a plague, you sought me out and asked me to help you. I'm not asking you to meet with these agents, I'm just telling you that they asked me to. You've done a rather spectacular job avoiding them on your own thus far. I'm here to protect you."

"And how do you intend to do that?" Allie sniffled.

"We'll just have to wait and see, I guess," Claire said, smiling, reaching out and placing her hand on Allie's scraped cheek before quietly adding, "but don't worry, when the time comes, I'm gonna be here for you."

   4 HOURS EARLIER

Molly had been gone all day. She'd been down at the casino, once again doing measurements, doing note taking, all the pre-building requirements that she had to get done before actually setting to work. Truth be told, however, that a lot of it was absolute nonsense. Nothing more than padding out time waiting for Allie and Benny to crack the idea of how to easily acces said vault. As Molly opened the door to her house and stepped inside, she sighed and let her hair down, then ran her fingers through it. She desperately needed a shower. Molly headed down the hall towards the bathroom, and that's when she heard the sound of someone rummaging through her home office. She slowly, cautiously, approached and opened the door, only to find, of all people, Kristin.

"...are...are you robbing me?" Molly asked, stunned.

"...this is awkward," Kristin said, standing up from the floor, papers scattered everywhere, as she smoothed out her skirt and sighed, "um, Molly, we need to have a discussion. This vault you're building, I need to know everything about it. You tell me what you know, what the plan is, and everything, and nothing will have to happen."

Molly stepped back into the hall a bit, scared.

"...who do you work for?" she asked.

"Doesn't matter," she said, "I was asked by someone to do this, because I know you're friends with Allie Meers, and I know she killed a man that my employer wants justice for. They set me up to meet you. Told me what time you'd be leaving that day, what area of the parking lot you were in, everything. Molly, we can still be friends. Hell, I could get you out of all of this. But I need you to help me first."

Molly chewed her lip, contemplating her options. Allie had created a world of trouble for her, and here this girl - a girl she apparently didn't actually know and therefore couldn't rightfully trust - was offering her a way out, if she just cooperated with her. Molly breathed heavily and shook her head.

"God dammit," she whispered, before turning on her heel and running down the hall, only to feel Kristin's hands grabbing her hair and pulling her back towards her home office scant seconds later. Molly screamed and kicked, but Kristin was stronger, bigger, and had the advantage. There was nothing Molly could do now but see it through, and hope that, in the end, she'd be forgiven for whatever happened.

                                                            2 HOURS EARLIER

Allie was sitting on the hood of the car with Rachel, while Claire attended to Zoe. Rachel had opened a can of seltzer water and she and Allie were passing that and a bag of chips back and forth between them. On occasion, Allie would glance back over her shoulder and peek at Claire and Zoe, wondering what they were talking about.

"Why do you do whatever she asks?" Allie asked, looking at Rachel as she shoved her arm back in the chip bag.

"Why does Zoe do whatever you ask?" Rachel questioned back, shrugging, "because we care about one another. Regardless of the toxicity of the relationship, we're all the other has, and...and the world is too scary to navigate on your own. I'm not saying it's healthy like this, but...fuck...it's not ideal the other way either."

Allie sighed and nodded, understanding all too well her point.

"Besides," Rachel said quietly, "I love her. I can't...I can't just shut that off. No matter what she's done, or has asked me to do, I can't just stop loving her. I know it's sick, I know it's...it's dangerous, but...fuck. She's all I ever wanted."

Allie smiled.

"That's actually sweet," Allie said.

"And I think, deep down, you love Zoe. Not in the same way, but I know about you. Your relationship with your cousin. You see Zoe as a replacement in a sense, and you don't want her to leave like she did. You don't want to lose someone else. So you're doing everything in your power, even if it hurts her inadvertantly, to keep her here."

Allie shrugged.

"Maybe," she whispered, "or maybe she's right. Maybe I'm just bad."

"Hey, you're the Astounding Allie, not the Awful Allie," Rachel said, making Allie giggle and blush. If there was one thing Rachel St. Sebastian was good at, it was making other girls feel better about themselves.

                                                         45 MINUTES EARLIER

Kristin continued searching through papers and files, gathering everything she could that she thought was connected into one cohesive pile, as Molly sat tied to a chair with belts.

"I thought you were my friend," Molly whispered, wiping her eyes on her oversized sweater sleeves, "I thought...I thought you actually liked me, and wanted to know me."

"It's not personal," Kristin said, "Molly, it really isn't. I didn't wanna hurt you, especially after getting to know you, but...but you were the closest and easiest source to attach to. I'm sorry. You're such a sweet person, and you really don't deserve this, nor do you deserve what she's putting you through."

Molly nodded momentarily, then furrowed her brow and shook her head, squinting angrily as she looked up at Kristin.

"Actually no," Molly said, "you don't get to say that, because she might be a mess, but she's stuck by me. She's included me. She came clean of her own accord, I didn't have to stumble into it like I did with you. So yeah, she might be a mess. But we're a mess together, and you don't get to judge her."

Kristin smiled weakly.

"I certainly commend your loyalty," she said, "now if you'll excuse me, I have someone to get this information to."

Kristin gathered everything she felt she needed and then exited. As soon as Molly heard the front door shut and the car start, she began wriggling to get free from the chair. She needed to get to Allie, and fast. She needed to tell her that the cops had someone who was hot on her tail. Molly scooted so much the chair collapsed to its side, taking her with it. As she lied there, sobbing, she continued to do her best to get free of the belts keeping her tied to the chair. If Allie could escape something, so could she.

                                                   CURRENT TIME

Claire approached the car, wiping her hands on her pants as Rachel and Allie looked up at her. The sun was starting to finally set, and the cool Vegas night chill was coming in. Allie zipped up her jacket, and Rachel finished drinking the seltzer then crushed the can as Claire stood in front of them.

"I think I managed to smooth everything over," Claire said, "but...don't be surprised if she doesn't want to talk for a while."

"I wouldn't blame her, no," Allie mumbled.

"So we done now?" Rachel asked, "Can we get going? Cause I'm hungry and the sushi place is gonna close in-"

Just then, they heard a car speeding towards the lot, and everyone glanced in its direction. Zoe even stood up and, stuffing her hands in her coat pockets, approached the car, though still keeping somewhat of a distance. The car swerved and veered into the lot, heading right towards them, and then came to a sudden jolting stop and just as everyones curiosity peaked, the drivers side door opened and out stepped a bruised and rough looking Molly.

"Molly?" Allie asked, sliding off the hood of the car and approaching her quickly, putting her hands on her shoulders, "what the...how did you even know where-"

"I drove around to every casino until I saw you here," she said, out of breath.

"What happened to you?" Allie asked, reaching up and touching the bruise on her head above her right eyebrow, making her wince as she did.

"It doesn't matter," Molly said, "Allie...they're coming for you. They've hired some...some private detective or something, and she...she took all my blueprints and papers for the vault and...and they're coming for you. For us. For everyone."

Molly then glanced towards the others, her lip quivering, as she said softly

"...we need to hide."

"This, ladies, is a replica of Jackson Strange's transparent box," Benny said, slapping his hand atop it as Allie and Zoe sat on a couch in front of him. They were currently in Benny's loft, his girlfriend at work. Allie and Zoe exchanged a look and then looked back at Benny.

"Where did you even get this?" Allie asked.

"Does that matter?" Benny asked, shrugging.

"I'm just curious how one goes about procuring a transparent box," Allie said, "I mean, I get that we're magicians, but still, I can't imagine you can just call someone up and ask if they have them readily available. How hard was it to get this thing? How much did you pay?"

"Listen," Benny said, "none of that matters. All that matters is I have it, okay? And now, it's up to us to-"

"Does your girlfriend know you bought this?" Zoe asked.

"Oh, that's a good question," Allie said, snapping her fingers and pointing at Benny, adding, "did she get mad when it showed up?"

"What is wrong with you two?" Benny asked, annoyed, "we're committing a crime, here, why are you so stuck on how I got it? Who cares how I got it?! I got it! That's all that matters! Now, are you gonna help me figure out how to vanish in something everyone can clearly see through, or would you rather just ask me stupid questions?"

"I kinda am having fun annoying you, honestly," Allie said, "but you're right, we should get down to business. So, what do you have to tell us about it?"

Benny sighed and walked to the back of the box, unlatched it and pulled the back open, stepping inside, closing the entrance behind himself. Allie and Zoe leaned forward and looked confused. He wasn't visible. Somehow, despite walking inside of a seemingly transparent box, he wasn't visible. Benny then came back out and walked back around to the front of the box, grinning.

"It's a two way mirror, inserted halfway," Benny said, "that's how he does it. There's a small section, just long and tall enough to conceal him in the middle of the box, where he can see out of, but nobody can see him. This gives him the illusion of having vanished. It's actually pretty simple, which isn't surprising, given he seemed pretty simple."

"Someone sounds jealous," Allie murmured.

"I'm not going to stoop to allow myself to be jealous of an idiot," Benny said, "the real question is...once he's hidden, how does he get out. That's the real trick, and if we can crack that, then we'll be golden."

"...I'm gonna get some snacks. We're gonna be here a while," Allie said, standing up from the couch.

                                                                           ***

Rachel St. Sebastian was lying on her side on her bed, staring at the wall. She'd never felt more conflicted in her life. She felt a hand creep up onto her hip and she tensed up. She knew Claire wasn't awake, she could hear her lightly snoring, but still...something about her being so close...though, how much closer could they get after last night, really? Rachel quietly slipped out of bed and pulled on some underwear and a loose shirt, then headed out the hall towards her kitchen. She started to make some coffee, and, standing there watching it drip, she thought how easy it'd be.

Claire was sleeping. It wouldn't even hurt. She had all the necessary supplies downstairs. She could simply knock her out further with ether and kill her painlessly, and would anybody even care? She was a serial killer, after all. Rachel would probably be hailed a hero of some kind. She tapped her nails lightly on the countertip and bit her lip. But she loved her. She couldn't do that to someone she loved, someone who was finally reciprocating the feelings she'd long since had for her. That would just be plain sick.

She suddenly heard moans from upstairs, and figured Claire was waking up. Rachel felt herself shift within her skin, almost purely out of fear. Why did she even come here? What could she possibly need from Rachel now? The coffee finished preparing, and Rachel quickly grabbed two mugs and filled them up, then headed back to the bedroom, where she found Claire sitting up in bed, and for a brief moment as she entered the room - seeing the morning early afternoon sun coming in through the half shut blinds and dancing on Claire's red hair - Rachel felt a pang in her heart of genuine adoration. She smiled and handed a mug to Claire, who happily took it and sipped it as Rachel seated herself back on the bed.

"Did you sleep well?" Rachel asked quietly, and Claire nodded.

After a few minutes of silence and drinking, Claire set her mug down on the bedside table, then climbed on her knees behind Rachel, putting her arms around her shoulders and nuzzling her neck with her lips, making Rachel shiver and blush, giggling like an adolescent teenage girl.

"I need you," Claire whispered, and Rachel nodded.

Who was she kidding. She would do anything Claire asked, no matter how toxic and one sided this relationship was. That's kind of what love does to a brain. It makes you stupid.

                                                                            ***

"It just needs to appear like we were never there," Allie said, pacing circles around the box, "it just needs to seem like nobody came in or exited. That's why cracking this thing is so important. Because if it looks like anyone came in, the first person he's gonna suspect is Molly, because she's the only other one with knowledge of it. I don't want to put her in any further danger than she's already in."

"That's noble of you," Zoe said, her and Allie exchanging an uncomfortable glance. Allie sighed and knelt in front of Zoe, putting her hands on her knees.

"Listen, I didn't want to drag you into anything either, but you're my partner in magic, you're the only other magician whose skills I trust-" Allie started.

"Uh, rude, in the room," Benny said from behind, shaking his head.

"-but," Allie continued, "I don't want you to be involved in this either. After you help me crack this thing, you just go do whatever it is you want, okay? Leave the rest to Benny and I, because you deserve a break after what I've put you through. I'm sorry I have turned your life into a spectacle of crime, that's not something I ever wanted for you, and you deserve better from better people than me."

Zoe was, admittedly, surprised at this statement. Her eyebrows raised, and a little weak smile broke out on her lips as she nodded. Allie was, if nothing else, at least maturing to recognize how her actions affected others. Being sober probably helped in that regard.

"Well," Zoe said, standing up and smoothing out her skirt, "in that case...I think we should take a lesson from Occam's Razor, in that the simplest solution is often the correct one. If you want to get into something, it has to look seamless, that's the whole trick to the box, right? His disappearance is seamless. They might question how it happens, but they don't question that it happened. We need that level of acceptance. And how do you do that? With something that, just like the box, blends in with itself."

Benny and Allie looked at one another, then Benny glanced back at Zoe and furrowed his brow.

"Are you saying..." he asked.

"Yeah," she replied, grinning, "fake wall. Think of the hangman illusion. You've got someone clearly about to be hanged, a real rope, a real stage, or at least real enough to be accepted as fact. Props that don't look like props are never questioned. That's why the box is so perfect, because it's designed to look like something we're all aware of the visual of. Nobody questions a box, and nobody..." Zoe said, putting her hand on the box now, smiling, "...questions a wall."

                                                                             ***

Rachel St. Sebastian had never really had what others might call a 'successful relationship', and the fact that the closest she'd come thusfar was with a serial killer who ran a cult proved she wasn't going to anytime soon. In fact, for a majority of her life, Rachel had rarely had relationships at all. Despite being constantly chased after by other women, she wasn't all that interested in them most of the time, and the few she was were never interested in her in the same way. So Rachel St. Sebastian focused on the dead. She focused on those who couldn't judge her and, instead, would likely be grateful for her help. And this level of desperation for acceptance was becoming all the more clear with Claire's requests for help.

"They want me to turn on her," Claire said, sitting at the kitchen table, sipping her coffee as Rachel made breakfast; Claire continued, "they want me to lure her somewhere where they can approach her, because they know she and I have spoken. The question is...should I? I have nothing but respect for Allie. I mean, let's face it, she killed a man and put him in a box, and I killed people and put them in walls. We're not so different. It'd be like turning on myself."

"Mmm," Rachel said, flipping her eggs, "but...but she's not you, you know that, right?"

"I'm well aware, yes," Claire said, lightening a cigarette and taking a long inhale, "but when you're so similar to someone, it's hard to want to hurt them without feeling like you're hurting yourself. Besides, she at least had noble reasons for what she did. I didn't. I was just sick."

Rachel smirked as she seasoned her eggs and continued cooking. At least, if nothing else, it seemed Claire was acknowledging her faults and taking responsibility for them. That was progress. The lowest level of progress, but progress nonetheless. Everyone's got to start somewhere.

"And why do you need my help, exactly?" Rachel asked over her shoulder.

"Because I need a mediator. I can't risk exposing myself," Claire said, "I need to keep as low a profile as possible, which means I need you to set up a meeting between Allie and I. Please Rachel, I...I really really need you right now."

Rachel blushed and plated her eggs, then plated some for Claire and sat herself and the plates down at the table. Rachel looked at Claire, who held her mug in her lap, both hands cupped around it and her eyes looking down at her legs. Claire seemed...uncertain of herself, and it wasn't something Rachel was used to seeing from her. Even when she'd known her to be on medication, Claire had always been confident, but now she seemed rather cautious.

"...please Rachel," she whispered, sounding like she was going to cry, "you're the only one I have."

"I got you," Rachel said, reaching out and touching her leg, smiling.

Rachel would do anything for Claire, and that unrestricted loyalty terrified her.

                                                                         ***

Allie was standing at the box while Zoe pulled her jacket on and looked back at her. Benny was in his kitchen, getting a drink. Zoe approached Allie and tapped her on the arm, causing her concentration to break and make her chuckle.

"Sorry," Allie said, "lost in thought."

"I'm gonna go," Zoe said, "Effie and I are supposed to have dinner together. You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Allie said, waving her hand at Zoe, "don't worry about me, you go and have a nice dinner. Tell Effie I said hi."

Zoe nodded, hugged Allie and then exited the apartment. As the door closed, Benny walked back to Allie and the box, standing opposite of it from her, taking a long drink from the uncapped bottle of soda he'd gotten. After a moment Allie glanced up and their eyes met.

"You sure about this?" Allie asked, and Benny shrugged.

"Not really sure about anything to be honest, I don't have much self confidence," Benny said, making Allie chuckle as he added, "but Allie, if there's one thing I know, it's magic. You and I both know magic. Between the three of us, I think we can pull this off. Fuck Tony, he deserves to be taken down a notch."

Zoe chewed on her lip and nodded slowly.

"...Zoe's not coming," Allie said, making Benny raise an eyebrow in surprise.

"She's not?"

"She's not," Allie said, "I've done so much damage to her life. I can't make her go any further. Molly too. Once we get in, she's out. Are you absolutely certain you wanna be a part of this? You could go to jail."

"I'm a magician, my life is already a kind of prison," Benny said, making Allie throw her head back and laugh. Allie hugged Benny, got her own jacket on, thanked him for getting the box and then headed out herself. As she got into the elevator and headed back down to surface level, she couldn't stop thinking about how they were going to manage to pull this off. It was going to be one hell of a stunt, if accomplished correctly. Her thoughts then turned back to Zoe, and she grimaced. All Zoe had wanted to do was perform magic with her idol, and what had Allie done to her life? Absolutely destroy it. Kill a man for her. Rope her into covering up multiple crimes. The gravity of the ongoing situations was starting to wear on her conscious. As she reached the bottom of the complex, and headed into the parking garage pulling her keys out, she heard Zoe suddenly and turned to see her standing there.

"...what...I thought you left," Allie said, "What are you still-"

"Come here," Zoe said quietly, and Allie nodded, following her.

They walked between a handful of closely parked cars, like tins of sardines in a case, past pillars of varying numbers and letters, only to finally reach a small black car that was idling. Zoe and Allie stopped, and Allie looked at Zoe, confused, but Zoe just shook her head. The car door opened and out stepped Rachel St. Sebastian.

"Oh," Allie said, almost sounding relieved, "it's just you. What...what are you doing here? How did you even know where I'd be?"

"You're not a hard person to track down, contrary to the police's belief," Rachel said, standing by the drivers side door, hand on the top, "but I'm not the one who wants to see you. You guys should get in."

Zoe and Allie waited a moment, then they walked to the car and, Zoe getting into the front passenger seat and Allie climbing into the backseat, Rachel climbed back into the drivers seat and slammed her door shut, starting the car up proper. Allie coughed and waved at the smoke that had filled the car, only to recognize Claire's face as she did so. Claire just smiled at her.

"Hi Allie," she said.

"...you're out?" Allie asked quietly, shocked.

"We have a lot to talk about," Claire said, "Rachel, drive."

Rachel pulled out of the parking space, reversed and headed towards the parking garage exit, heading off to god knows where. They didn't know at the moment the car hit the street, basking in the glow of the early evening sun, but in less than 24 hours, their whole lives would change drastically again.

Claire pulled her shoe up over her heel and then sat back upright on her cot, smiling down at her feet. She took a look around her room and sighed. She'd become so accustomed to this place that leaving seemed so strange. Still, would be nice to be home. The door to her room opened and there stood Agent Siskel, in her nice suit, her hair pulled back in a ponytail.

"You ready?" Agent Siskel asked.

"You have no idea how ready I am," Claire said.

Agent Siskel was holding a brown duffel bag filled with Claire's mixed belongings, and together with Claire, they walked out of the room and down the hall towards the front room. Once in the main hall, Agent Siskel handed the bag to Claire and, upon taking it from her grip, Claire looked up at Agent Siskel.

"You don't worry you're making a huge mistake?" Claire asked.

"Sometimes you have to take a risk in order to get great reward," Agent Siskel said.

Claire smirked, gripped the handles of her bag tighter and walked past Agent Siskel and out into the afternoon Vegas sun. Her eyes took a moment to readjust, and then she stopped and took a long, deep breath and then headed for a payphone to call a taxi. First things first, she really needed to go home and take a long shower. Then she would get a good meal. And then? Then she'd get started on her plan.

                                                                            ***

"I feel like I'm going to a wedding," Benny said, walking down the rows of seats, smoothing his hand over his suit, "why do we have to look nice? Why couldn't we just wear street clothes?"

"Because I don't want to stand out," Allie replied, pushing him gently on the back, "now get going, I wanna sit down."

"So instead we have to look like The Four Seasons?" Zoe asked, making Benny laugh.

Allie was in a suit as well, while Zoe was wearing a slimming, form fitting black dress with her hair pulled back up into a messy bun. As they slid into the aisle to take their seats, Benny looked around and adjusted his tie.

"This is ridiculous, we don't get even get popcorn or anything," he muttered.

"What's this guys name again?" Zoe asked as they started to sit down, Allie between the two of them.

"Jackson Strange," Allie and Benny said in unison, as Allie continued after with, "and no, before you ask, I don't know him and I've never seen him. Believe it or not, not all magicians know eachother."

"You two knew eachother," Zoe said, causing Allie and Benny to exchange a look before looking back at her.

"Listen, Sally Semantics, I wouldn't classify us as 'knowing' eachother, we're more like people who've met once or twice at a party," Benny replied, "and second of all..." he pointed at her, licked his lips and then sighed, shaking his head before adding, "...I got nothing. She's right."

Just then, the house lights were brought down and the crowd in the theatre erupted into applause and cheers. Allie was, admittedly, surprised. She hadn't expected Jackson Strange to draw such a crowd much less receive such a reaction. The stage before them lit up, and out he walked. And much to Allie's further surprise, he wasn't what she expected him to look like either. She'd expected some kind of metal head looking young man, in ratty jeans and a beard, but instead, out walked a fairly clean shaven young man, dressed in a button down shirt and slacks, with a long black peacoat over his shoulders. Allie thought to herself if he was already this surprising...what else could he have in store for her?

                                                                            ***

"This is amazing," Kristin said, sipping her coffee from her mug at Molly's kitchen table. Molly was standing at her counter, stirring creamer into her own mug, smiling at Kristin's kind words as Kristin continued, adding, "and he asked you to do this for him? Like...personally?"

"I guess I made such a good impression on him when I built the second casino, that he wanted to utilize me again. Hey, I'm not gonna say no to another job," Molly said, shrugging, tapping her stirrer on the edge of her mug and saying, "besides, I like taking on projects that aren't houses or offices. Things I've never designed before. Gives me some kind of challenge."

Kristin nodded, pushing some of her hair back behind her head and then sipping from her mug again.

"Did he say what it's for?" she asked.

"Just said it's a vault for the casino," Molly replied, shrugging, "assuming he's going to keep a mountain of money in it, like some sort of Egyptian Pharaoh. Frankly I don't really give a shit, so long as I get paid to make it. He can keep a solid car in it for all I care."

"Do they make solid gold cars?" Kristin asked as Molly sat down and chuckled as she tossed her hair.

"I don't know, but if they do I'll never afford one. I don't even know how well they'd drive, honestly," she replied, both girls laughing.

Molly was happy. It was nice to have a friend who wasn't attached to some sort of illicit activity. She felt like she spent all of her time surrounded by people trying to either break the law or avoid getting caught by it. Kristin was different. Kristin was just...a person. An ordinary everyday person who worked a regular job as a showgirl at the casino. Nothing out of the ordinary, no wild and crazy schemes, just a lovely young woman Molly happened to back her own car into hers.

"So, is designing this...like...difficult?" Kristin asked, setting the papers down on the table and leaning back in her chair.

"Not really, no," Molly said, "in fact, because it doesn't have to follow certain structure code, I'm able to be pretty free with it. That isn't to say I'm gonna cut corners, I'm a professional, but it does allow me some wiggle room to play around with. Either way, it's a nice change of pace from what I'm usually asked to design. Don't get me wrong, I love making homes, but there's only so many different ways to do it, and after a while you get kind of...I don't know...depressed about building nice places you don't get to live in."

Kristin giggled and sipped her coffee, then asked, "do you not like your house? Cause's it beautiful."

"Oh, I do!" Molly remarked, looking around her kitchen, "I really do, I just...I don't know. Sometimes I think about what it might be like to have a totally different home. Live a totally different life. Be a totally different person, you know? I don't think that's that unusual, I think most people probably indulge in a little escapist fantasy now and then."

Kristin nodded, still sipping, listening. Molly lifted her mug to her lips and took a long drink as well, their eyes connected. Yes, Molly liked having normal friends. She couldn't believe she'd waited so long to try it.

                                                                            ***

"That was nothing but showboating," Benny said.

The three of them, Benny, Allie and Zoe, were seated at the casino bar that evening after the show. Benny had his hand in a bowl of mixed snacks on the bartop, while Allie and Zoe sipped some non alcoholic drinks. Benny sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

"Nothing but showboating and yet...everything he did was seamless," he continued, "you couldn't spot the trick even if he pointed it out to you. If there's a man capable of getting in and out of a place undetected, it's that guy, and it's a miracle he's decided to use his gifts for magic rather than robbing banks."

Allie chuckled and pinched her straw, pulling it to her lips and taking a long drink. Afterwards she wiped her mouth on her sleeve and nodded.

"He's definitely the guy to watch," Allie said, "now all we have to do is figure out how he does it."

"Well a magician never reveals their secrets, yeah?" a voice said from behind, as Jackson Strange himself waltzed up and stood between Benny and Allie. He flashed her a smile, and for a moment, Allie had to remind herself that this wasn't someone she could flirt with - aside from the fact she had a boyfriend - and instead was someone she was attempting to mimick creatively. Jackson ordered a drink, then scooped a handful of snacks from the bowl and dropped them in his mouth; he continued, "but, I'll let you in on a little secret, since you're all in the business of magic yourselves. Most people do not realize what is done as stage illusions and what is not until emergency measures have to be taken to end the escape routine entirely. You dig into the history of escapes and people have died, more often than any other line of magic work. That's why we have to be so careful."

"Fascinating," Benny said flatly, picking up his ginger ale and taking a long drink as he rolled his eyes.

"Well, I feel like that if you know even the tiniest bit about magic, then escapology loses it's appeal faster than almost any other kind of magic. That's why the necessity for belief is so crucial, because once you realize that the hinges, screws, chains, handcuffs, bars, water tank, wooden frame, and giant blade, are entirely fake, always, and 100%, you just lose your appreciation of the whole thing. Not to talk shit about my own work, but escapology, at this level of performance, is just magic for people who pay no attention to magic, and won't think about it after they watch it. But that's the beauty of it. You have people willing to believe what they're seeing, with no real thought given to it. That's what makes it work. If you can get them to believe it, you're golden."

Aliie nodded, listening intently.

"So, how does one go about then, say, escaping a transparent box, like you're going to do soon?" Benny asked, "cause you're suspended in mid air, with everyone capable of seeing you from all angles. What's the trick to that?"

"Again," Jackson said, finally getting his drink from the bartender and leaving her a tip, winking as he did, "the illusion of accessibility. It's all about misdirection. If you tell someone something is a transparent box, they're going to believe it when they see it, regardless of how you escape it. Suspending myself above them gives me ample room to be just far enough away to do things they can't make out exactly. People are so quick to call things their eyes can't make sense of 'impossibilities'. How many times have shooting stars been called UFO's, or balls of light called Ghosts? People want to believe in the unbelievable. I just give them that service, at a price of course."

Jackson then patted Allie and Benny on the back and nodded.

"See ya around, kids," he said, before turning and walking off, drink in hand.

"Wow," Allie said, as they watched him leave, "what a perfectly pretentious piece of work."

"He called us kids," Benny said softly, "I'm like 4 years older than him."

"So," Zoe asked, finally chiming in, "how do we do what he does, but on a larger scale?"

"That," Allie said, turning and grinning at her, "is the million dollar question."

                                                                              ***

Agent Siskel was standing in her kitchen, staring at her fridge. She couldn't decide if she wanted to cook dinner or order dinner. She sighed and closed the fridge after pulling a soda from it, popping the top and taking a long swig. She'd done what she'd set out to do, so why did she feel so lousy? Probably because of Agent Tropper. He was understanding enough, but the level of combativeness during their last interaction had thrown her for somewhat of a loop. She'd never had him be that blunt and angry with her. But...but this was her investigation and she was going to do what she had to close it out.

Suddenly she heard a knock at her front door and glanced in that direction, before checking the watch on her wrist. It was almost 10pm, who could possibly be coming to visit her at this time of night? She walked to the door, reached out for the knob, hesitated momentarily, then bit her lip and yanked the door open. Standing there, surprise surprise, was Agent Tropper, in a sweater and some jeans.

"I was just thinking about you," Siskel said.

"Funny, maybe I'm a Tulpa," Tropper remarked, making her laugh as she stepped aside, allowing him entrance; once inside the living room, he turned and scratched the back of his head, looking at her as he said, "listen...I wanna apologize for the other day. I didn't...I guess I just didn't understand what you might be thinking, but you've been right about everything else so far and so I should have just trusted your instincts."

"I appreciate that," Siskel said, taking another sip.

"I saw that Claire's been released," Tropper said softly, "any idea where she went?"

"Not at the moment, but she knows she's under the eye of the law," Siskel said, "she knows I'll track her down personally if she fails to follow through with our deal. Likely she's going to take care of some personal business first, and I don't blame her. Being locked up kind of puts a halt on your life. But after that...I'd imagine she's gonna go right for Allie."

"And what makes you think she won't help her instead?" Tropper asked.

A pause filled the room.

"I guess it all comes down to how much Claire values her freedom," Siskel replied, "and right now, I think she values it quite a bit. But I suppose we'll just have to wait and see."

                                                                              ***

Rachel St. Sebastian pulled up in her driveway and parked.

It'd been such a long day. She'd had to go get new embalming supplies, grocery shopping, getting her mail. She was happy to finally be home and put her feet up and relax. She figured she'd make herself a nice cup of hot chocolate and put on some classical music and just lay on the couch for a bit before making something to eat. She locked her car, then headed up the walkway to the front door. As she entered the home, she set all her bags down, then turned the light on and screamed. Sitting in her recliner, drinking a beer, was Claire.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Rachel asked.

"It's nice to see you too," Claire replied, smiling smarmily.

"How did you-"

"I was let out for good behavior."

"You KILLED people and stuffed them into walls. I don't think there's any kind of good behavior that could rectify that line of action," Rachel said as Claire stood up and walked towards her. Rachel backed against the door and stared as Claire reached past her and locked the door, then put one palm against it, while the other hand grabbed Rachel's chin and forced her to look in her eyes.

"Well somebody in there thought I deserved a second chance," Claire said quietly, "and I'm not going to waste it."

With that, she pressed her lips against Rachel's, taking her by surprise, before reaching over to the wall with her other hand and shutting off the lights.

"That's...uncanny," Peter Lorde said, sitting across from Jenny in his office. He looked down at his phone, then back up at Jenny and shook his head, "just fucking uncanny. Really spooky. What made you decide on this?"

"I don't know," Jenny said, shrugging, "if you were given the chance to change your face, wouldn't you pick something appealing?"

"I...I guess I can understand that," Peter said, putting his phone down and opening her file, clearing his throat and saying, "so you think you can go back to work? I'm not gonna put you on duty for any of the big animals, don't worry, you won't have to be around tigers anymore. I want you to feel comfortable and safe, all things considered."

"I don't mind," Jenny said.

"Jenny, your face was ripped apart," Peter said, looking confused, "and you're not scared of tigers?"

"Allie was mauled, and she isn't scared," Jenny said.

"You're not Allie," Peter said sternly, and Jenny shrugged, smiling.

                                                                           ***

Molly was sitting at her kitchen table, drinking tea as Zoe stood at the stove, making pancakes. Molly shifted some papers in front of her - various blueprints and outlines for the vault - and sighed as she reached up and scratched her forehead. Zoe walked over to the table and sat down while she waited for her pancakes to cook a little more, watching Molly look over the papers.

"Are you okay?" Zoe asked.

"I'm stressed," Molly said, "I...I feel like there's pressure mounting on all sides of me and there's no relief. I've got Tony breathing down my neck to make something that only he could access, but then I've got Allie watching me like a hawk to ensure we have access to it. Eventually one has to give, right?"

"Wouldn't know," Zoe said, "I don't have anyone putting pressure on me at all."

Molly smirked and gathered her things, putting them into her attache case just as a knock came at the front door. Zoe walked past Molly and out into the hallway, opening the front door only to find Effie there on the porch, who smiled upon seeing her.

"Why...why are you-" Zoe started.

"Can I come in at least?" Effie asked, just as Molly scooted past them.

"See you later, Zoe. Hello Effie," she said politely, heading towards her car. With Molly out of the house, Effie indeed made her way into the house, following Zoe back into the kitchen, where she went back to the stove and continued to make her pancakes as Effie sat at the table. After a minute or so of awkward silence, Zoe gave Effie a mug of coffee, which she thanked her for after taking a sip. After another minute or so of silence, Zoe finally turned away from the stove and faced Effie.

"I guess I should apologize for being so..." Zoe started, but trailed off.

"Avoidant?" Effie asked, making Zoe groan and Effie laughed as she added, "hey, no apology necessary, alright? I understand things get in the way. I was more worried than anything else that maybe I'd done something to upset you or something, and-"

"No, it...it wasn't you. After that whole thing with my parents, I just...I guess I've had a hard time separating who I am from who I should be, and that's been very tough on me. I know I shouldn't still be worrying about it, but...it's hard when you try to ignore something your whole life only to have it finally bubble to the surface, you know, and I...I guess in a way, avoiding you, rude as it was, was my way of acknowledging my feelings in regards to it all."

"Do you wanna break up?" Effie asked, and Zoe looked at her, eyes wide.

"No! No no no! Oh my god, no," Zoe said, walking from the stove to Effie and reaching out, touching her face, "never ever! No, I just...I needed some distance in order to gain some clarity, you know? I'm...I'm not the kind of person who's capable of just jumping into things headfirst and figuring it all out as I go. I'm not Allie."

This made Effie laugh loudly, which made Zoe feel better. Zoe ran her hand down Effie's face and blushed.

"You've shown me who I am more than anyone else ever could've, and I'm so grateful and I love you," Zoe whispered, "I'm sorry that I've been distant."

"You never have to apologize," Effie said, grabbing her hips and pulling her down into her lap in the chair, "I might not understand sometimes, but I'm more than willing to listen."

Effie pressed her lips against Zoe's and kissed her. Zoe's pancakes wound up burning.

                                                                             ***

"Why's it so...big?" Benny asked, standing over a small table, staring down at Molly's drafts.

"I don't know," Molly said, standing beside him, smoothing out the paper with one hand, "I really want the answer to that myself. Because it's much too large for what he's planning on keeping inside it. It's just meant to hold money, so the dimensions really don't make much sense to me either. I was wondering that myself."

"Well, regardless of the answer, the size actually benefits us," Benny said.

Molly looked back across the room towards Allie, who was smoking a cigarette near a window so she could exhale out of it. Molly then looked back at Benny and lowered her voice.

"How did she convince you?" Molly asked, almost whispering.

"...well," Benny said, "let's just say that I'm not the biggest fan of Tony myself. Guy really ripped me off. Broke a very expensive contract, bought me out, screwing me out of a lot of money. An eye for an eye and all that. My girlfriend used to be a waitress at Card Shark at one point, while she was going back to school for a degree, it was supplemental income, and from the stuff she told me about how he treated his other stars, I can't say that I'm willing to forgive him anytime soon. Seems Allie is the only one who's managed to come out remotely unscathed."

"I wouldn't say that," Molly mumbled, just as Allie finally joined them, hands on her hips.

"So," she said, "how about it Benny boy?"

Benny stood back upright, arching his back, popping his spine and exhaling. He stretched again, then started to pace.

"You guys ever hear of someone named Jackson Strange?" he asked, and after a moment of Molly and Allie both slowly shaking their heads, Benny chuckled and continued, "alright, well, Mr. Strange is like us, he's a magician. Now, Allie probably knows this, but I'm willing to bet you aren't as versed in the various types of magicians, Molly, so let me regale you with what we're categorized as. Allie here is your classic illusionist. Plays to large venues at a distance on a theatre. I'm more of a sleight of hand kinda guy myself. Up close, capable and willing to trick people with everyday objects, never having them suspect it's not real. But this guy...Jackson Strange...he's a mixture of a lot of stuff but he's essentially an escapologist. Sort of a...a modern day Houdini if you will. He's one of those guys who does big grandiose events, often in public spaces, and is far more concerned with the showmanship than the art of it all."

Molly, chewing on her nails, shook her head, confused.

"What the hell does this have to do with anything?" she asked.

"You sure you're not a Monologue Magician?" Allie asked, making Benny playfully hit her in the arm, the both of them laughing.

"Mr. Strange, as it turns out, is gearing up for a new performance very soon," Benny said, "a performance in which he gets himself out of a clear plastic box suspended from the air. So, if there's only one way into the box, how does he get out of it? That's where we come to our issue. If there's only one way into the vault, how do we get out of it?"

Allie and Molly exchanged a look, and then glanced back at Benny, who put his hands on their shoulders and grinned.

"Ladies, we're goin' to a magic show," he said.

                                                                           ***

After her meeting with Benny and Molly, Allie headed back to the casino, ready to crash in her loft, knowing Nick would be off work soon. She parked in the usual spot, then headed into the casino, and took the elevator up to her floor, the floor where all the suits were where those who chose to lived if they worked there. She reached inside her jacket pocket for her suite key, when she looked up and saw someone standing near her door.

"Hello?" Allie asked, and then put her hands to her mouth in shock, "...Jenny?"

"Hi Allie," Jenny said, smiling.

"Jesus this is creepy," Allie remarked, her voice low now, "you look...just like me. It's like having a doppleganger. Do you...do you wanna come in? Have something to drink or-"

"I can't, I have to go to work in a bit," Jenny said, "I just wanted to stop by and talk."

Allie nodded, opened the suite door and, together with Jenny, headed inside. Jenny shut the door behind her and watched as Allie pulled her coat off, tossed it on the couch and then headed into the kitchenette, where she yanked open the fridge, reached inside and pulled out a ginger beer. She twisted the cap off and took a long drink.

"You're not drinking alcohol at all anymore?" Jenny asked.

"Haven't been for a while. This has been a good substitute. So...you look like...me," Allie said.

"Does that bother you?" Jenny asked, leaning on the counter.

"Surprisingly no," Allie replied, "they say immitation is the sincerest form of flattery and you don't get better immitation than this, so."

Jenny laughed as Allie drank more of her beer. Jenny pulled her hair back into a ponytail and exhaled.

"I was worried it'd freak you out," she said quietly.

"After the year I've had, I don't think anything you do could freak me out, I promise you that," Allie remarked, "barring perhaps waking up to you stealing my organs."

"I'll try to restrain myself," Jenny said, leaning on the counter, "...actually...the real reason I wanted to come by and show you what they managed to do was because I wanted to thank you."

"For getting you mangled? You're on sick puppy," Allie remarked.

"Well," Jenny continued, smirking, "yes and no. I never really felt like I was a person. I never really identified with my...well...my identity. I always had trouble figuring out who I was, what it was I liked, what I genuinely believed. I always felt like an alien or something pretending to be a human woman. But now I...I get to pick what I look like, and start over like a fresh slate. It's kind of...freeing, in a way."

Allie admitted, to herself at least internally, that this was by far the strangest turn of events she couldn't have seen coming from this situation. She had accidentally pushed Jenny into a tiger pit, getting her mauled and leaving her needing intense facial reconstruction. And now here she was...thanking her?

"Well, you're...welcome?" Allie asked, ending on an inflection, which made Jenny blush and run her hands through her own hair anxiously.

"I guess I just wanted you to know that not everything you do results in bad outcomes," Jenny said quietly, looking up shyly, catching Allie's eyes, adding, "sometimes, probably more often than not, you create more good in the world than bad. I know you've been having a hard year, from what little Nick has told me, and so I...I just thought someone ought to tell you that you're not as bad as you might perceive yourself to be."

Allie wanted to cry. Had this come from Zoe it would've been nice but somewhat hollow since she was so close to the situation, and had this come from Molly it would've been an almost outright lie since she knew how uncomfortable Molly was with everything. But to come from Jenny...that really threw her for an entire loop. That caused her to really believe it, because Jenny...well, Jenny had no reason to lie. Allie watched as Jenny stood up straight and headed for the front door, excusing herself for work, before she rushed around and hugged her from behind, pressing her face into Jenny's back. Jenny, taken somewhat by surprised, blushed and patted Allie's hands.

"thank you," Allie whispered.

"Don't mention it," Jenny replied.

                                                                             ***

"What are you doing?" Agent Tropper asked, plopping a few papers stapled together onto Agent Siskel's desk. She looked at the papers, then looked up at him and furrowed her brow. She grabbed the papers and looked at them, then sighed and leaned back, brushing her bangs from her eyes.

"Figured this would come up," she said.

"You're asking for Claire to be released?" Agent Tropper asked, "Seriously? And you didn't even ask how I might feel about this? Why would you want her on the outside again? Has she not proven herself a public health hazard to you yet, or do you need more evidence? Maybe some more bodies hidden in walls?"

"Claire is the best tool we have at our disposal," Agent Siskel said, folding her arms, "we have a direct line to Allie here and we're not utilizing it. We let her out...we give ourselves options. We know the two are chummy. We know Meers has come to visit her. We know she helped Meers get the tomb back. After what Nicole gave us, yeah, we have a lot of evidence, but we need something more than just papers and numbers. We need something concrete. Something far more substantial."

Agent Tropper began pacing back and forth, rubbing his hands over his face.

"...so...so you're going to let a woman, a woman who, might I reiterate, stuffed numerous bodies in the walls of an abandoned apartment building, back into the general public all because she might...might...lead us to a magician?" Agent Tropper asked, and Agent Siskel shrugged; he threw his arms up in annoyance, but knew he couldn't undo what she'd set in motion. Finally he pulled a chair from a nearby desk over to the opposite side of hers and seated himself.

"You think I'm nuts," Agent Siskel said.

"I never said that."

"You don't really have to," Agent Siskel said, "but Becca...if this goes south...I don't know that I can pull you out of that fire. You're gonna have to live with the consequences of this decision. I just...I hope you're aware of that."

"I'm well aware, Roger," Agent Siskel said, "and rest assured, you won't be held remotely accountable for my actions. But she's not just a tool, she's not just a killer, she's not just a criminal or a cult leader. Claire Driscoll is the one thing we really really need right now."

"Which is?" Agent Tropper asked, raising an eyebrow as Agent Siskel finished drinking from her water bottle and grinned, capping it.

"She's a weapon," she replied.

                                                                              ***

She knew this wasn't her route now. She knew that she no longer had to check this area. But Jenny still felt strangely pulled towards Domino's cage, and as she strolled up to the industrial fence atop its enclosure and looked down at the beautiful white tiger pacing in the dark of night, sniffing for this and that, she couldn't help but feel a tremendous sense of...cumraderie. She and Allie had both been mauled by this tiger. She and Allie looked almost identical now. Jenny stood there, barely illuminated by the one singular overhead light that filled the area, and she smiled.

She was sure of one thing, and that was that she was finally more sure of who she was than she had ever been before.

Who knew what getting mauled by a tiger could do for your sense of self worth.

Claire Driscoll was seated on a bus, staring out the window as it sped down the freeway. She had a pair of headphones pulled tight over her ears, and nervously chewed her gum as she watched the landscape pass by at an exhilarating speed. Suddenly she felt the seat beside her shift, and glanced beside her just to see an older woman, probably mid 60s, seating herself and opening a small bag of crackers. The woman smiled at Claire, and Claire smiled politely back, then tugged one of her headphone cups off the ear facing the woman.

"Where are you going?" the woman asked.

"Vegas," Claire said.

"I was just out of town visiting my daughter," the woman said, smiling as she applied some peanut butter from a small tupperware onto a cracker and handed it to Claire, who happily took it; the woman ate one herself, then continued, "why are you going to Vegas? You look a little young to be traveling alone."

"I'm 16," Claire said, nodding as she chewed, "I'm running away."

"Running away from your family? Why?"

Claire thought about that for a moment, and shook her head slowly.

"Because sometimes that's what you have to do," she said, shrugging.

"Do you have any other family? Anywhere to stay?" the woman asked, and Claire shook her head; the woman, her eyes so sad, her voice so low and shaky, followed up with, "...then how do you plan on being okay? You're just a child."

"I'll be okay," Claire said, shrugging, taking another cracker, "I know how to survive."

And that was the most Claire would ever divulge to someone about her past. Not even to her followers, not to the agents, nobody else would ever know about her past. Even now, telling her origins back to Agent Siskel, she didn't explain her childhood. Just her life after coming to Vegas. As Claire looked back out the window, at the empty desert beside the vehicle, she couldn't help but smirk. She'd look back on this day eventually with humor, knowing that she could've probably gone with that woman, been adopted and had a normal life But as Allie Meers also knew all too well, what fun was there in normality?

                                                                             ***

Rachel St. Sebastian liked working with the dead. She found some sort of odd serenity in putting makeup on young beautiful dead women, but if there was one thing she liked more than that, it was applying makeup to living girls. Especially when she got to sit in their lap to do it, like she was doing just now. Claire was seated in a chair in front of Rachel's vanity, as Rachel, cigarette limply hanging from her coral painted lips, painted Claire's face with her makeup, applying eyeliner and mild blush. After a bit, Rachel pulled away and held Claire's face between her hands, admiring her work.

"You have a fabulous jawline," Rachel said.

"That's kind of a terrifying thing to be told by a mortician," Claire said, the both of them laughing.

"Well," Rachel said, piercing her cigarette between two fingers and taking a long drag before tapping it on the edge of the ashtray on the table behind her, "a leader has to look good, and it's my job to make that happen. Charisma only gets you so far."

Claire had had the compound opened for 3 months now, and had appointed Rachel her right hand man, something Rachel took a lot of pride in. Thusfar, recruitment had gone well. Turns out the ideas Claire had were ideas many others could easily believe in, and, as Rachel had told her, she was charismatic. And to think when she'd first arrived here in Vegas she had nothing to her name, and now she owned property. Course, a lot of that was thanks to the generosity of Rachel St. Sebastian. Rachel and Claire had met because Claire had been in the need of ether for her mental pains, and after meeting Rachel at small get together and finding out she was a mortician and knowing she'd have access to it, had swiftly hit her up about it. Rachel, definitely curious, agreed, and here they were now.

Claire had been taking ether to help ease her poor mental health for a while now. She often used it to bring herself down from uncontrollable highs, or rise herself up from seemingly desperate lows. Regardless, she loved it, and Rachel kept her up to date with an endless supply. Partly out of sheer curiosity, and partly out of love, because much as she'd never admit it, Rachel was hopelessly addicted to Claire.

Rachel had even put up a good chunk of the funds needed in order to purchase the compound, because she was that dedicated to what Claire believed in, and promised her. As she pulled away from Claire's face, chewing her thumbnail and admiring her work, she could feel her breath catch in her chest from looking at Claire's face under her soft bedroom lighting.

"What is it? Are you done?" Claire asked.

But Rachel didn't answer her, she just stared at Claire's brisk green eyes and felt herself lost within them. She wanted to put her cigarette down and lean in, push her fingers into Claire's deep orange hair and press her lips to hers. She wanted to tell Claire that they should leave the compound, just have a life somewhere far away from all of this. Just the two of them. She wanted all this...but she knew she could never ask. Suddenly she felt her cigarette ash onto her bare thigh and she winced.

"Yeah," she said, "I'm done."

                                                                                 ***

Origins.

Was is it about origins that drive people crazy. They always need a beginning to the story, Claire thought. Always had to have a starting point. Could never be dropped right in the middle of something. Infuriating, she thought, not just the need for closure but also the need for starters. So whenever anyone asked where Claire came from, she reached into her neverending bag of bullshit and pulled just one of her many varied origin stories for them. Sometimes she came from a wealthy family who neglected her for their work. Sometimes she came from a middle class family who had more than one child and decided she was the useless one. Sometimes she came from a poor family, and was so pressured to succeed that she couldn't handle the stress and instead fled. And sometimes she came from a perfectly normal family, with loving parents, and just needed to do something for herself.

And the thing is, no matter what story she told them, they all bought it. Because she was just that good a liar.

So Claire lied about where she came from, just as she had to that older woman on the bus on her way out here. And she'd continue to lie to anyone who would listen, except for Rachel St. Sebastian and, surprisingly, Allie Meers. Anytime Allie came and asked for advice, or they just chatted, Claire found herself being surprisingly open and honest with her. Perhaps she felt like they were kindred souls of some sort, both so charismatic they couldn't help but have people follow them blindly, even without wanting them to. And the thing was, Claire had read a lot about Allie, and she herself had never given a true origin story. She'd also always made things up in every interview, and Claire admired that. Here they were, two women desperate to escape their past and create a future, a future from which they could control everything around them.

Except that was the thing Claire Driscoll was wrong about. Allie didn't want control like she did. Allie just wanted to be ignored outside of her work, and at this point, hell, she'd settle for being ignored entirely. Claire used others to get what she wanted, and Allie did what she did to protect those she cared about.

They had their similarities, but they weren't the same.

                                                                              ***

Rachel stood in the middle of the empty apartment, nervously smoking a cigarette, her leg shaking furiously, tapping her heel on the old hardwood floor. Claire was sitting on the one singular chair she'd brought in and was staring at the black bag lying between them, covering a body. Rachel knew she should say something, but what does one say in a situation such as this?

"Why?" Rachel finally asked, glancing at Claire, her eyes watering.

"Because they...they wouldn't listen to me," Claire mumbled, "they wouldn't listen, no matter what I told them, and they had to see it for themselves. See what I was saying. I had to prove to them it was all real."

Claire, at this point, had been off her medication for weeks, and while Rachel had been concerned, she'd never once considered she might do something like this. She just didn't seem like she had the capacity for murder within her. Rachel nodded, took a long drag from her cigarette and looked back down at the black bag, shaking her head slowly.

"You're a mortician, you can do something," Claire said, "A paupers grave or something. Nobody would ask questions."

"They didn't have family, it's true," Rachel replied, "that will make disposing of them infinitely easier."

What the actual fuck was she saying? She couldn't even believe the words coming from her lips. But...she looked back over at Claire, crying and burying her face in her hands, and she felt this almost innate need to protect her. To do whatever it took to keep her safe and free. Rachel put her cigarette out and walked across the room, kneeling in front of the chair and putting her hands on Claire's knees, catching her off guard. Claire looked up, their eyes meeting and Rachel smiled warmly to ease her fear. She reached up and petted Claire's face with her palm.

"It'll be okay," she said, "We'll take care of it, okay? That's...that's what we do. We take care of it."

Claire nodded, turning her head and pushing her cheek into Rachel's palm, making Rachel's heartbeat quicken. Rachel wanted so bad, again, to just kiss her. To prove to her that she'd do whatever it took to keep her safe. To hold her and save her from this cruel world that seemed so determined to destroy women, or make women destroy themselves. But she didn't do any of that. She just looked into Claire's eyes, patted her face and repeated herself.

"We take care of it," she whispered.

And take care of it she did. First she embalmed them, right there in the apartment, to ensure the stink didn't tip anyone off, and then together they put them in the wall. And then when it happened again, they did it again. And it continued to repeat, until Rachel finally couldn't take it anymore, and though she continued to help, after it was over, she'd go home and she'd sit at her kitchen table and she'd drink coffee and just stare at the wall. What the hell did she get herself involved in? She'd listened to Claire because she'd sounded so sure about the answers to eternally unanswerable questions, and now here she was just killing people who didn't understand her. She wasn't a martyr. She was a monster.

And Rachel St. Sebastian loved her more than anything in the world.

                                                                            ***

"Nobody else has come," Claire said into the phone, sitting on the other side of the plexiglass window; she took a long inhale and then followed up with, "unsurprisingly, given what I did. I don't think anyone will ever want anything to do with me again. Except maybe you...you came."

"Of course I came," Rachel said, sitting there in her hawaiian shirt, the top two buttons undone and the necklace Claire had given her for her birthday dangling between her collarbones, she added, "you know I'd always come. How are they treating you?"

"I mean, it could be worse," Claire said, "I'm being given nicer treatment than one would expect. How are you doing?"

Rachel stared through the window for a long minute, just looking into Claire's eyes, and finally exhaled.

"I'm scared," she finally said.

"I'm scared too," Claire replied, "this whole situation is-"

"No, not of the situation, of you," Rachel said, catching Claire by surprise; Rachel continued, no longer looking her in the face, smirking out of sheer uncomfortableness as she spoke, "you terrify me. You send chills through me. I...I didn't know you were willing to do these sorts of things, and now that you have...and involved me in them...I feel so...gross. Like you used me. And I wanted you to like me so much that I let you."

"I'd never just use you, Rachel," Claire said, sounding the most sincere Rachel had ever heard, "Never ever. You're the...the only person I've ever really trusted in my whole life. You're everything. I hated bringing you into that mess, but you were the only one who'd ever been there for me, and I-"

"How can I believe that? I don't know anything about your past. You won't even tell me the truth, Claire. You could have rich parents who could spring you from this in a matter of seconds, and I'd never know. So how do I know I'm the only one who's ever been there for you?"

Claire took a long deep breath, leaned back and lowered her voice.

"...I never told you because you never asked," she said softly, "but if you want to know...if that's what it would take..."

Rachel's eyes widened in sheer surprise. She hadn't expected Claire to genuinely offer up her origins, and she was right. Rachel had never asked. She'd just...sort of listened to all the variations Claire had come up with and known they were all bullshit, but she'd never broached the subject herself, likely out of sheer respect for Claire's privacy. But they were far past the point of privacy now.

"...you don't have to tell me," Rachel said, smiling, "the mere fact you were willing to proves what we have is real."

Claire smiled back and nodded slowly. Rachel put her hand on the plexiglass window, as did Claire, and they smiled at one another. No more words had to be said. They were in this to the bitter end together. But that didn't mean Rachel was entirely thrilled about it. There's a big gap between admiration and obligation.

The day Claire was arrested, Rachel was watching it on the TV, standing in her mortuary backroom, smoking. She couldn't believe her eyes. It was over. It was all over. Claire would maybe get the help she needed, and she knew Claire wouldn't turn Rachel over, so she had nothing to fear for herself. Amazing how love and fear go hand in hand sometimes. Rachel now finally understood all those articles she read while waiting for embalmings to be finished about women trapped in toxic relationships. Still...she couldn't help but feel responsible. But hell, for the moment, for this one brief moment of respite...

...she felt relief.

                                                                           ***

"So," Claire said, "you wanted to know what brought me here, how I did it, all that, and I feel as though I've thoroughly provided that information now. You intend to do anything with it, or?"

"I think you can help me," Agent Siskel said, "Claire..."

Claire and Agent Siskel locked eyes, and Agent Siskel smirked.

"...how would you like to be out of here?"

"You need to get up," Olivia said, slapping Benny on the face lightly from the opposite side of the bed, and Benny groaned, pulling the covers up over him.

"No I don't, I'm an adult, I don't have to do anything I don't want to," he said, half asleep. But this protest didn't last long, because soon enough, Olivia was out of bed and pulled the whole bedding off him and tossed it into a bundle on the floor. Benny figured there was no arguing with a girl like Olivia, so he relented and dragged himself out of bed. Benny showered, they cooked breakfast together and then Benny got dressed. He kissed Olivia goodbye, knowing she'd be off to work as well, and then headed to his usual spot in downtown Vegas, for his daily street magic show. Yes, Benny Harrison had been doing street magic in Vegas for god knows how long, but what he didn't expect was that Allie Meers was keeping a keen eye on him today, and not because she thought he was particularly talented - though she did - but because she figured if anyone knew how to really pull off an illusion of grandeur, without the benefits of distance from an audience and on a stage with props, it was a street magician.

                                                                           ***

"Good morning Claire," Agent Siskel said, plopping a box down on the table of their usual meeting room. Claire leaned forward and pushed the flimsy lid open just a tad, peaking inside and smirking.

"Donuts? Really? Is it my birthday?" Claire asked as Agent Siskel smiled and pulled her coat off, hanging it on the back of her chair and taking a seat across from her; Claire furrowed her brow and asked, "...where's your partner?"

"He's dealing with some paperwork," Agent Siskel said, "so I figured it'd be a girls day."

"Are we gonna get pedicures?" Claire asked, and Agent Siskel genuinely laughed. Claire then opened the box again and reached inside, pulling out a sprinkle covered cream filled donut and taking a bite of it, moaning at the sugar high rushing to her head now.

"Claire," Agent Siskel said, "...I need your help. Usually I wouldn't ask like this, but...I have something that I just cannot crack on my own, and I need an experts advice. I'm willing to believe you're not a bad person, inherently. That a lot of what you did was a direct result of being off medication. That the mere fact that you sought medication is proof enough that you don't like what you are when you're off it, and want to be a better person. But I need to know...how do you get people to do whatever you want?"

Claire leaned back in her chair and continued chewing, and once she was half finished, she set her donut down on the little sheet it'd come wrapped in on the table and sighed.

"...I've already told you...you promised people things you can't give them," Claire said.

"I know that, and I...I know that that's a real honest answer, but how did you do it so thoroughly, where they never question when they're finally getting what they want? How did you get them to be so loyal?" Agent Siskel asked, and Claire cocked her head, her red curls bouncing lightly.

"Well," Claire said, clearing her throat, "and perhaps this is different for everyone but...people want to be lead. Oh sure, you have those outliers who are true independents, and those folks who claim they want to be individuals, but the gods honest truth comes down to the incontrovertible fact that really people want to be told what to do. They want to not have to be repsonsible for their lives or decisions or actions. Take religion, for example, okay?"

Claire leaned forward and cupped her hands, Agent Siskel now fully engrossed as Claire continued.

"I mean, religion offers people the most ridiculous shit you can imagine, shit you can't even prove, and yet people follow it blindly," Claire said, "yet I'm out here offering people tangible rewards. Attainable things. Things that they could theoretically be given if they follow me. Things I actually fully intended to eventually give them. But religious ferver? That's a whole different story altogether, man. You can't convince those people that they won't be eternally rewarded because they're so desperate to think their lives mean something in the grand scheme of the universe that they're willing to completely overlook or outright ignore glaring plot holes and logic gaps all at the hope, not guarantee, HOPE, that they'll eventually be given what they want, and not even when they're ALIVE."

Agent Siskel nodded. Claire made some excellent points. Claire leaned back in her chair, picked the remainder of her donut back up and finished it, then spoke again.

"So," Claire said, mouthful of donut, "how hard is it to get people to be loyal to you? Not very. It's just that you have to be skilled enough to get them to believe it. Charisma's a hell of a drug, Agent Siskel."

                                                                               ***

"Good show," Allie said, approaching Benny as the crowd on the street dispersed and Benny grinned upon seeing her.

"Hey!" he said, "been a while! Saw your new billboard, looks spiffy."

"Yeah, things aren't...things aren't bad, career wise," Allie said, "can't say the same for my personal life."

"Eh, personal life is overrated," Benny said as he began to collect the money people had put in the top hat by his feet; while he stood there and counted, Benny said, "so what brings you down to my humble venue?"

"Actually," Allie said, crossing her arms, "I...need your help."

Benny looked up and smirked.

"Is that right?"

A little bit later, Allie and Benny found themselves at a little diner nearby, Allie buying him lunch, and Benny interested at her supposed proposal. While he bit into his enormous burger, Allie sipping on a milkshake, Benny couldn't help but wonder what could possibly bring a talented powerhouse like Allie Meers to ask a street magician for help.

"So," Benny said, wiping his mouth on a napkin, "...what's the rub?"

"Look, I wouldn't be asking this if we hadn't worked together before," Allie said, stirring her milkshake with her straw, "but the thing is...you don't do magic at a distance. You work up close and personal. There's no...screen between you and your audience. Therefore, I must conceded...you're more talented than I am."

"I'm not more talented, Allie, there's varying degrees of talent, and I just happen to excel at a form that you don't, simple as that. No reason to put yourself down."

Allie smiled and nodded. Benny had always been such a nice guy, and she felt bad about dragging him into her mess, but she desperately needed help.

"Well, flattery aside," Allie said, the both of them laughing as she continued, "I...I need advice. I need to know how you convince people something in front of their eyes isn't real."

"Well," Benny said, "one of the keys to doing magic in general, as I'm sure you're well aware, is misdirection, but there's also the fact that you have to convince them that what they're seeing is real and hopefully well before you pull off the illusion, because that faith in its reality will carry them through the obviousness that it isn't. I'm doing just that, but at a much closer scale to their eyes. Become their friend, not someone doing a trick. The trick is secondary in my situation. I'm there having a conversation, I just happen to be doing magic."

Allie nodded, sipping some more of her milkshake as Benny shook his scruffy oak brown hair and rubbed his hand over his light stubble.

"So...you're saying I have to befriend whoever it is that I'm conversing with in order to get them to trust me enough to not question the unreality of the trick?" Allie asked, and Benny snapped his fingers and pointed at her.

"Bingo."

"...I suck at making friends," Allie said, causing Benny to laugh.

                                                                              ***

"Were you popular when you were a kid?" Agent Siskel asked, sipping her cup of coffee she'd brought for herself, the other cup sitting in front of Claire.

"Not particularly," Claire said, "which is why it was so challenging to hone my skills at getting people to trust me. But if you try hard enough at something, for a long enough period of time, and you care enough about it...eventually you'll master it. Why do you ask?"

"Because you strike me as a very popular person," Agent Siskel said.

"You're just saying that cause I led a cult," Claire said, making Agent Siskel chuckle and nod.

"Fair," Agent Siskel said, "but you mentioned charisma being a hell of a drug. How does one develop charisma without being popular?"

"That's an excellent question, and I wish I had an equally excellent answer for you," Claire said, leaning back and picking her own cup up, taking a long drink from it before sighing and adding, "the truth is, while you can learn to lie, and learn to make people like you because being fake isn't hard...you can't learn to be charismatic. That's something you either have or don't. I didn't know I was charismatic until I came to lead. But it's not something I'd wish on anyone. Being charismatic is...awful. It leads you to believe that you're better than others, that you can get away with anything, and it's...it's dangerous."

Agent Siskel nodded, listening. She hadn't heard Claire be this thoughtful or open about her ideas about identity before, and she could see now, being back on medication provided by the state while she was incarcerated, what an intelligent and interesting woman she actually was when she was stable.

"...trust me, being charismatic is what ruined me," Claire said, sighing, "that isn't to say I'm not a bad person, because I am, admittedly. I won't deny that. I also won't say that I'm not a bad person when I'm on medication. If you're a bad person, you're a bad person, regardless of your medicated state. Sure, medication keeps me more or less off the path of being bad, but only because I'm stuck in this prison. If I were not here...I couldn't guarantee that, even on medication, I wouldn't be bad. I'm not saying I'd continue to go around murdering, but...I'm certainly not an angel."

"Nobody is," Agent Siskel said, shrugging, "that's the most damaging thing that media has really done to our psyche and our viewpoints about morality. It's convinced us that there's just good and evil. Cops vs robbers. Cowboys vs Indians. In reality, there's no one perfectly good or bad side, everything is gray. Sometimes people do bad things for good reasons, and sometimes people do bad things...because they're bad people. It just varies. Did you do a bad thing? Yes. Do you feel remorseful for it? Certainly seems so. But that doesn't make you evil. In fact, I'd be willing to say that the mere fact you feel remorse is proof positive that you're not evil. Evil people don't feel remorse. They feel pride in their evilness."

Claire nodded, listening carefully as she took another long drink from her coffee cup, then reached back into the box and pulled out a bear claw and took a big bite of it, chewing momentarily before swallowing and speaking again.

"And what if you're wrong?" Claire asked.

"What do you mean?" Agent Siskel said.

"What if someone convinced you they were doing things for the right reasons, but in reality they were just evil," Claire said, "what would you feel then, Agent Siskel?"

Agent Siskel leaned back in her chair and exhaled, thinking.

"...I guess then I'd have to reevaluate how I judge people," she said, "but I like to think I'm pretty good at gauging folks."

"Well, you seem to know me well enough to know I like donuts," Claire said, mouthful of bear claw.

"Please, everyone likes donuts. An affinity to pastries isn't a character trait," Agent Siskel said, both of them laughing.

                                                                               ***

Molly opened her front door, only to find Benny and Allie on her porch. Molly sighed, rolled her eyes and stepped aside, allowing them to enter. As they entered, Benny, hands in his coat pockets, whistled as he turned around in the living room and admired her home. Allie took Molly by the arm and tugged her a little ways into the kitchen, lowering her voice.

"Who is this guy?" Molly asked, and Allie glanced over her shoulder at Benny, still taking in Molly's domicile.

"He's someone I did magic with on and off for a bit," Allie said, "you're gonna use him to help build Tony's vault. Nobody but us is gonna know he's involved."

"And why am I gonna use him?" Molly asked.

"Because he's an expert at up close magic," Allie said, "and right now, we need that. Because we're gonna build a backdoor into it."

Molly nodded slowly, unsure of what exactly it was Allie was planning, but she smiled and walked back to the living room, extending her hand.

"Hi there, I'm Molly," she said.

                                                                           ***

If there was one thing Agent Siskel had never expected Claire Discroll to be, it was honest.

She'd dealt with so many people in her line of work who'd lied to her face, who'd sworn up and down that they were telling the truth, who stuck to their guns regardless of the mountain of evidence to the contrary...she was expecting that with Claire, and for a while, Claire also did that. But now, having spent a bit of one on one time with her, she could see that Claire was speaking openly and honestly with her, giving her the information she really needed and wanted, and some she didn't even realize she could use.

"So, if I might ask something a bit personal," Agent Siskel said.

"I'm a Scorpio," Claire replied, making Agent Siskel laugh.

"No, uh...not...not that," Agent Siskel said, tapping at the lid of her coffee cup, "no, um...what makes someone become a cult leader? Because you have to understand, I've dealt primarily with blue collar criminals or outright murderers. But you're nuanced. You're something unique to my line of work. I guess I'm just curious how a seemingly otherwise normal woman like yourself becomes entrenched in something like this."

Claire sighed and sat back in her chair, folding her arms as she looked down at the table.

"...as cliche as it sounds, it all goes back to my parents," Claire said, "not to be a trope, but maybe had they treated me a little differently, I wouldn't have acted out the way I had, and I wouldn't be here right now. But I suppose when people control your every move, it only makes sense that you'd want to eventually usurp them and have that control for yourself, even over others."

"...so...what happened? How'd this all get started?" Agent Siskel, and Claire smiled.

"I made my bed one morning," Claire said, and Agent Siskel got a confused look on her face as Claire divulged her origins.

Jenny Gibbons had always been considered a pretty girl, and yet she'd always felt as though she was a fraud. In fact, in middle school, a therapist once diagnosed her with imposter syndrome, because despite her good looks garnering her popularity and her scholastic and academic achievements being higher than anyone else in her grade, she never once believed in herself or her abilities. That therapist, Jenny thought now, would lose their shit if they saw her today. Standing in front of the mirror, looking at her new face, Jenny couldn't believe the wonders that modern medicine could accomplish. She ran her hands up and down her face, pressing on the soft squishy flesh that were her new cheeks and couldn't believe just how closely she resembled Allie Meers now. The door to her hospital room opened behind her and Nick entered, before jerking back against the door, a hand to his chest.

"Christ that's uncanny," he mumbled, as Jenny stared at herself in the mirror, admiring her brow ridge; Nick entered more and plopped a bag down on the bed, unzipping it and asking, "are you about ready to get outta here? I can drop you off but I have to come right back. I am on duty, after all."

Jenny nodded, taking in his words but not really listening at all. Nick started to pack up her belongings as Jenny pushed her fingers into her mouth and pulled her lips back, looking at her jaw. Nick stopped after a moment and watched, curious, until Jenny finished her exercise in personal admiration and smiled.

"I'm perfect," she whispered, "just like her."

                                                                               ***

Allie was seated in her car, right outside of Marcie's apartment.

Marcie had given her her address, had told her it'd be fine if she ever wanted to drop by...so why did it feel to Allie like she was somehow invading on her privacy? Allie leaned back in the drivers seat and shut her eyes, exhaling. She thought back to when she was a kid, and Marcie had come to her party as the magician, and how excited how Allie had been. How much of an impact Marcie had made on her. Allie groaned and opened the console beside her, reaching inside and pulling out a bottle of painkillers. She shook it and exhaled, before putting it back into the console and shutting the lid once more. No. She wouldn't give in no matter what. She'd promised them all better than that.

Allie finally pushed the car door open and slid out onto the street. She waited for a few cars to pass by before heading across the street and up the steps to the somewhat run down apartment complex. She knocked and then stuffed her hands in her hoodie pocket, waiting for the door to open. When it finally did, the person standing there certainly wasn't the person Allie had expected. It was, in fact, not Marcie at all, but instead a seventeen year old girl. She hesitated, eyeing Allie up and down, then spoke.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Uh, h-hi, I'm Allie...I'm a friend of Marcie's, is she...is she here?" Allie asked, and after a moment, the girl nodded and stepped away, pulling the chain off the door and allowing Allie entrance. Allie was confused...the girl was too old to be a daughter...so maybe a family member who ran away and sought refuge with her favorite aunt? Sister? Cousin? Allie shrugged it off as she walked inside, looking around at the decor. She took a moment to soak it all in, before hearing the door shut behind her and jumped a little at the sound, as the girl walked past her and headed back into the kitchen, where she'd been cooking lunch of some kind. Allie heard noises from a neighboring room in the hall, and walked down it, finding Marcie at a desk, playing a game. Allie cleared her throat and Marcie turned to face her, pulling her headset down.

"Oh!" Marcie said, her eyes widening at the sight of Allie, "hi! What...what are you doing here?"

"That's something I've been wondering myself," Allie said, "I guess I just needed some sense of comfort."

"Well, I'm not generally told I'm comforting, but I'll do my best," Marcie said, turning around in her chair, "you don't have a friend you could go to for that, or a boyfriend or...girlfriend?"

"My best friend and I are already on somewhat shaky ground, and my boyfriend is driving the girl I got mauled home from the hospital today," Allie said sullenly.

"...what is your life?" Marcie whispered.

"Not good," Allie remarked, the both of them laughing nervously; Allie brushed some errant strands of hair from her eyes and looked at Marcie, finally asking, "...this is gonna be a weird question, but...did you ever commit a crime?"

"Actually," Marcie said, shifting in her seat and crossing her legs, "I'm committing a crime every single day."

                                                                           ***

Nick was driving, Jenny in the passenger seat still admiring her face in the rearview mirror. Occasionally, Nick would glance over and catch a quick peek, but overall he tried not to look. The fact that she looked almost identical to Allie freaked him out way too much. After a bit, pulling to a stop at a red light and waiting in traffic, Jenny finally closed her mirror and looked at Nick, who was just tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, doing his best to avert his sight from her general direction.

"What is it?" she asked, "is it too weird?"

"It's extremely weird," Nick mumbled, "I'm not...look, I'm not going to judge, okay, and what happened was fucking terrible and you have every right to have this new face be whatever you wanted it to be, but...why choose the woman who put you in a tiger pit, even if only accidentally?"

Jenny sighed and shook her head, looking at her nails.

"...it's...complicated," Jenny said, "I've never really been sure of who I was, exactly. Growing up, I latched onto whatever clique or identity I thought fit me best, as teenagers tend to do, but I did that even well into adulthood, and now I'm scared to try and discover who I might be. I wasn't there the night Allie was mauled, unlike Zoe, but when Domino was brought to my zoo...I just...I started to see whatever it was Allie saw in them. This sort of beautiful connection only an animal could bring out in a person. I begged to be their personal feeder, tended to their cage, all of it. Partially because I love white tigers, but partially because it brought me in some weird fucked up way closer to Allie, you know?"

The light turned green and Nick started again, the car lurching forward.

"Yeah," he said, "that all makes sense, but why her? All she's done is cause trouble."

"Same for you, and yet you're sticking by her," Jenny replied, catching Nick off guard...but...he couldn't deny she was right.

"I mean...okay, that's fair," he said softly, "but she's trying, right? She's trying to be better, and that's admirable. She's stopped drinking, she's not using painkillers, she's doing her best to just...you know...remain on the straight and narrow and on a sober path and that's something I have to appreciate. You're not wrong. She has this...this weirdly innate quality that draws you into her like a moth is drawn to light."

"Mhm, see, you get it," Jenny said, "it's why Zoe sticks around to be her magic partner. We all see it. We can see the struggle, and see that she's worth even her worst sides."

Nick nodded, chewing on his lip.

"But that doesn't answer the question, exactly, of...WHY look like her?"

Jenny sighed and looked out her own window as it started to softly rain against the glass, little droplets tinkling onto the metallic roof of Nick's car overhead.

"Because she's what I can't be. And what I wish I was," Jenny said.

"Which is?" Nick asked.

A moment passed.

"...undefeated," Jenny whispered.

                                                                                ***

"It's funny, I've never actually eaten here," Alessa said as she bit into her sandwich; while chewing she set her sandwich back on its plate on the countertop of the bar and wiped her hands on a napkin, adding through her mouthful, "I guess you just never expect bar food to be good, but I suppose at a high end casino everything has to be exceptional."

"My thoughts exactly," Molly said, picking up a mozzerella stick and biting into it, "my friend Allie is the one who actually told me to try it. I didn't trust it before that."

"Well, Allie has excellent taste in bar food," Alessa said, both girls laughing. They heard a clunk on the counter top beside them and both turned their heads to see Effie seating herself on a stool, asking for a beer and lighting a cigarette. Molly cocked her head and wiped her mouth with her napkin.

"Rough day at the office?" Molly asked, and Effie smirked as she ran her free hand through her short messy hair.

"Honestly, been a rough few weeks," Effie said as her mug was put in front of her; she took a sip then continued, "comedy is taking a beating these days. Not getting a lot of audiences, and even when I do, they aren't packed houses like they used to be.

"You're a comedian?" Alessa asked as she took a sip of her drink.

"Well I don't generally tell people that's my occupation, because it just sounds sarcastic," Effie replied, "but yes, telling jokes is how I make my living. Hey, have you seen Zoe?"

Molly shook her head and Effie sighed.

"Trouble in paradise?" Molly asked, taking another bite.

"No, she's just been...weirdly absent lately," Effie said, waving her hand at them, "whatever, it's no big deal. I'm sure I'll hear from her eventually. I have another set in an hour, it was nice to see you Mol, and uh...whatever your name is."

"Alessa," Alessa said, holding her hand out so Effie could shake it, which she did. As Effie departed for her suite for a quick shower and a change of clothes, Alessa looked back at Molly and cocked her head to the side, like a confused puppy hearing a new noise for the first time; she asked, "who's Zoe?"

"That's Allie's magic partner," Molly said, and Alessa nodded, "though they certainly don't treat one another like partners."

                                                                              ***

Allie couldn't believe her ears.

Her idol, one of the founding reasons she was a magician...was sleeping with a 17 year old?

"I know," Marcie said, "I know...it's hard to hear. Truth is, I'm not a predator. I didn't specifically go for her, I didn't seek out someone younger, we just happened to meet and hit it off. Her parents kicked her out for being queer, and now she's here. Me myself? I'm bisexual, I could easily date a woman or a man my age, and I wouldn't mind it, but this is how things shook out, so yeah, I'm committing a crime every single day of my life."

"And you don't...feel guilty about that?" Allie asked.

"I suppose deep down there's a thin layer of guilt, certainly, thanks to the shame society has attached to the it, the stigma surrounding it, but on the surface? Nah. Everyone breaks the law and lowers their morals if they can, and anyone who says otherwise is a liar, plain and simple."

Allie leaned back in her seat and nodded slowly. She was starting to see her actions in a new light. Murder was still murder, not to mention all the crimes she'd committed after that just to stay out of custody, but then again...she was doing it for a reason that others might also have done. Was Marcie right? Would people, if they knew they wouldn't get caught or perhaps couldn't control themselves, also bend the rules to aide in their own pleasures or freedom? She didn't want to justify something so awful - in either her own actions or Marcie's - and yet...they'd done what they'd done for reasons that made sense to them. Did that make them bad?

"...you know," Allie said softly, looking at her shoes, "I used to think that being a magician would be the most amazing thing. I used to think that making people believe things that weren't true was cool. But really, we're just liars. Expert liars. Is that really a skill to be proud of? I try not to apply it to other aspects of my life, but it's gotten harder and harder because the more adept you become at something, the more you think 'why not use it?'. But I don't wanna be like that. But I can't stop now."

"I think people often believe that personality traits can't become addictions, but they absolutely can," Marcie remarked, "anything can be an addiction if it's strong enough."

Allie nodded and thought about Zoe. She'd done all of this to protect Zoe, or at least that's what she'd always claimed, but could there have been an ulterior motive hiding somewhere beneath her defense?

"And what happens if we don't stop being addicts?" Allie asked, "I mean, I know the answer, I'm an actual addict. I used to drink nonstop, used to take painkillers...I know the outcome."

"Then why are you asking me?" Marcie asked, chuckling.

"Cause I..." Allie said, trailing off, her voice lowering, "...I guess cause I wanted someone else to say what I already know. I guess I thought maybe, if I didn't say it, it meant I didn't believe it, and the outcome could be different. But it never will be, will it?"

Marcie shook her head and Allie sighed.

Her life was once again a mess, even without her addictions...

...and she had nobody to blame but herself, as usual.

                                                                              ***

Jenny spent her first day at home taking a lot of new photos of herself. Some on her phone, some on an old polaroid, some on her laptop camera. Whatever she could do she did. And she did it all with the intention of replacing all the photos of herself with these new ones, her new face, the face she always wanted to see. And then she went about her regular evening routine as usual. She ordered in food, she did some cleaning - it had been a while since she'd been in her apartment after all - and she got her work schedule figured out once more. And then, when she was ready for bed, Jenny Gibbons went to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

As she pulled the toothbrush, paste on its bristles, to her lips, she stopped and admired the face she saw in the mirror. Was she sick? Was she actually sick for wanting to look like Allie Meers? She'd long ignored it, denied herself because she couldn't accept the truth, but the truth was, she'd only ever gotten friendly with Nick to get closer to Allie. She'd found her incredibly alluring, and saw her talent with magic as something very attractive. And she'd never felt this way before, either. She'd only ever liked men up until Allie Meers, and she knew Allie only liked men, so what was she really hoping for, ultimately? Jenny sighed and brushed her teeth, then combed her hair, and then she put her pajamas on and climbed into bed. And then, lying there on her mattress, on a level even she deigned too sick, she pulled her phone from her bedside table and opened the front facing camera.

She then started to touch herself, all while staring at her own face, because to Jenny, it felt like Allie was with her.

And this was the closest she thought she'd ever get to what she wanted.

Raymond Sykes was walking down the long, empty hallway, towards his now dead adopted daughters apartment.

In his thousand dollar suit, he didn't look like he belonged, but he did belong, because in the past year, he'd lost both his children, and now he was absolutely sure that someone was deliberately out to get him. If they managed to spook Nicole enough that she felt the need to take her own life...then yes, there was something worth being afraid of. As he reached the hall that housed her loft, he spotted all the cops and medical personnel there to attend to the crime scene. Raymond entered under the caution tape strung across the door and walked in, spotting Nicole's body lying there against the large window that led to the balcony. He spotted the bottle of alcohol on the ground beside her, the gun on the other side, still gripped in her hand. He wasn't a monster. He wanted to cry. She might've been adopted, but she was his daughter regardless, and this broke his heart. Still, he managed to hold it back and keep himself composed.

As he stood there, thinking, the noise of the police and emergency medical response team working behind him, all he could think about was what Nicole had said, about agents coming to see her. She hadn't given him names, she hadn't given him a group they'd worked for, nothing. Just 'agents'. That was going to be hard to narrow it down. And they'd rattled her so thoroughly that she'd offed herself. Course, Raymond had no way of knowing that she was actually rattled by his threats, not the agents, but that was a benefit they had against him now.

"Sir?" a voice asked, and he turned to see a woman with her hair tied back, standing there in a cop uniform.

"Yes?" he replied.

"Just thought you'd like to know that there seems to have been some things taken from the apartment," she said, opening her notebook and reading them off, continuing, "specifically files from her home office, one of the drawers was left open. No idea what it was they could've wanted, but-"

But she didn't have to finish, because Raymond knew, and the moment she'd said it his blood ran cold. He quickly excused himself, flew to the office and shut the door behind him. He dropped to his knees and began digging through the open drawer, his eyes narrowing, his breathing shallow. No. No they couldn't have taken those. But they did. They were gone. All the doctored papers of his dealings with the casinos, everything, it was all gone. His bank account information, their joint account, all of it. Raymond let himself sit there on his knees on the floor for a moment, letting the fear flood inside him for just 5 seconds before he collected himself once more and then exited. As he passed by the cops, he spoke low.

"Send the information to my office," he said quietly, "this is an internal matter, and I'll see that it's handled right."

But the thing is...he didn't know one very important detail. He didn't know how involved Allie Meers was. And right now, Allie Meers...was looking at a pinata.

                                                                           ***

"That pinata is an affront to God," Zoe said.

She and Allie were standing right beside an enormous pinata shaped like Tony's head; each had a drink in their hand, Zoe with her soda and Allie with her ginger beer to curb her alcoholic tendencies. Allie puffed on her hemp cigarette and took a swig, before nodding in agreement.

"Maybe he WANTS to make God angry," Allie replied, "maybe that's his whole intention. For he be a wicked man, lord strike him down!"

Zoe and Allie giggled and, after putting her empty can in a nearby receptacle, Allie leaned on her cane and together she and Zoe headed on through the crowd in the yard. It felt weird, but neither wanted to admit it. Just how close to the truth they were, and yet didn't know what exactly to do with that information. Still, here they were, at his birthday party, acting like there was no weirdness surrounding them and, for the moment, each girl appreciated the facade of normalcy.

"Are you still thinking about leaving town?" Zoe asked as she picked up a little shishkabob off a nearby passing tray.

"I don't know," Allie said, shrugging, taking a long drag from her cigarette, "it sounds good, but...am I moving on or just running away, you know? It's really hard to know which it is I'm actually attempting. 'Starting over' can have many different conotations, and often not the one you want it to be."

"I think it'd be good to get out of town for a bit, if nothing else," Zoe replied, biting into the pork and shrimp skewered snack, adding, "it might do you some good to get some distance from things even if only momentarily."

Allie chewed her lip, and thought about what Zoe was saying. She had a point. It might be good to get away from everything for a bit, just to put some distance between herself and the situation. As they headed further through the crowd, coming up to a table overflowing with gifts, they spotted Nick, whom Allie had come with, dipping some chips into a bowl of hummus. Allie stopped and looked at him, one brow raised.

"Hummus? Seriously?" she asked.

"I'm a nurse, it'd look bad on me if I ate food that wasn't healthy," Nick mumbled as he chewed.

"Nobody here knows you're a nurse though," Zoe replied.

"...shit, you're right, my story doesn't work," Nick muttered under his breath as Allie leaned up and kissed his cheek, just as Tony arrived on the other side of the table, drink in hand.

"Allie!" he said brightly, catching her attention; they shook hands over the table and he continued, almost jovially, "you having a good time? Do you like the pinata?"

"That's a loaded question," Allie remarked, making him laugh.

"It's something my wifes sister made for me," he said, "can't turn down a family member, right? Walk with me a bit."

Allie left Zoe and Nick behind and, joining Tony by his side, the two hobbled further along the yard as he sipped his drink and she smoked her hemp cigarette.

"So, how old are you now, a thousand?" Allie asked.

"Heh, old enough to be your father, and let's leave it at that," Tony said, "besides, it's disrespectful to ask someone their age, regardless of gender. Men, women, nobody likes to discuss how little time they presumably have left on this earth."

"This is turning into a bummer," Allie said as Tony put a hand around her shoulders while they walked.

"Here's the thing about success, Al," he said, "and you'll understand because you're successful yourself...success isn't about working hard or even luck. A lot of people try to get you to believe that it's one or the other, or some weird fucking amalgamation of both. If you work hard enough, you'll eventually make it. People will see your value and the effort you put in. Others will try to tell you that it all boils down to luck, and that one day, that luck will turn your way and suddenly you'll race to stardom like those before you. Right place and right time, all that malarky. Well, it's all bullshit."

"Then, pray tell, what is the secret to success?" Allie asked, and Tony smirked, leaning in and lowering his voice to a dull whisper.

"Random fucking chance," he said, "that's why casinos do so well, because people who come here expect random fucking chance to be on their side. And you might ask, 'well, what's the difference between random fucking chance and pure dumb luck, and I'll tell you...belief. Luck implies you BELIEVE you deserve to be successful. Random fucking chance is just happenstance. That's why people are so willing to think they might be winners in the city of Vegas. That's why we make so much money off them. And that's why, on occasion, one of them makes lots of money off of us."

"So it's all just random chance?" Allie asked, finishing her cigarette and putting it out on the top of her cane as Tony downed his drink and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his button down hawaiian shirt.

"Well, more or less. Every now and then there's other factors, variables and whatnot, but yeah, it's pretty much random chance," he said, "now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go bash my own face in for the delicious treats inside."

Tony patted her on the back and walked off, leaving Allie to stand there and think about what he had said. Had everything just been random chance? No. That took autonomy and agency from those living life, as if the decisions they made weren't part of the domino effect that led to said moments. Allie didn't like that one bit. She glanced down at her cane and sighed. She wasn't sure exactly what belief system she herself subscribed to...

...but it sure wasn't random fucking chance.

                                                                             ***

Molly climbed into her car at the casino parking lot and sighed.

She'd been there doing layout work for Tony's vault, and was exhausted. All she wanted to do now was go home, get into her sweatpants and lay on her couch, watching reality shows about cooking. Molly turned her car on and sat there, idling momentarily, while she tuned her radio to a specific station. She pushed her sunglasses onto her face and bit her lip, finally backing up and immediately hitting something.

"God dammit it all," she mumbled. She'd been up for far too long. She wasn't very aware of her surroundings. She really needed a break. Molly climbed out of her car and saw another woman, early twenties and in showgirl regalia, climbing out of her own car to assess the damage; Molly threw up her arms and loudly said, "I apologize and I take full responsibility, so there, now we don't have to make it into a whole thing."

"Oh, it's not a thing, I'm covered," the woman said, "so don't worry about it."

"...oh, well, guess that's what I get for finally being nice," Molly replied, making the woman chuckle; Molly furrowed her brow and pulled her sunglasses down, asking, "...do you work here?"

"Here and other places," the woman said, holding her hand out, "I'm Alessa, I'm a showgirl around town."

"That's pretty cool," Molly said, shaking her hand, "I always liked the idea of dance but I was never coordinated enough to go for the gusto."

"It's an exhausting job," Alessa said, pulling her showgirl headgear off and releasing a wave of beautiful chocolate brown curly hair, which she tossed around a few times before continuing, adding, "you have to be in exceptional physical condition, and even then it's exhausting. Not to mention the ridiculous beauty standards that are often pushed on you. Always underweight. Counting every calorie."

"That's showbiz, baby," Molly replied, making Alessa laugh.

This was unusual to Molly, because she'd never approached anyone before. Allie and Zoe had come to her, Tony had hired her, she'd never been the one to make the first move in terms of friendship, but when life puts you on a literal collision course, she figured the best thing one could do was roll with the punches.

"...are you off work right now?" Molly asked, and Alessa nodded slowly, smiling.

                                                                                ***

"This is hopeless," Agent Siskel said, slumped over her desk, seated right across from Agent Tropper's.

"Nothing is hopeless so long as you have hope," Tropper replied, leaning back in his chair and reading through a file, sipping coffee as he did so.

"Yeah well therein lies the problem, I have no hope," Siskel remarked, "I'm just...this is all very useful, certainly, and it's factual, it'll hold up in a court of law, but she was right. She was right. We need to turn Tony against him, otherwise it's just all finger pointing between two very powerful, successful men, and, sad to say, they often are above the law."

Tropper sighed and finished his coffee, putting his mug back down on his desk and standing up, smoothing out his shirt and coat.

"I'm gonna go get lunch, do you want me to bring you anything?" he asked.

"Yeah, a reason to keep going," Siskel mumbled.

"Well, I don't think they serve that at this time of day, but I'll ask," Tropper replied, patting her on the shoulder as he passed by her, making her chuckle as he did so. Siskel leaned back in her own chair, feeling exasperated and at her wits end. Nicole had removed herself from the equation and had left, in her stead, many many documents chronicling her fathers criminal dealings while serving his time as governor, but Siskel was beginning to doubt that any of it would be concrete without, as Nicole had said, Tony turning on him for his own freedom.

Siskel sighed and got up, grabbed her own mug and headed towards the coffee machine. Once there, she began pouring herself a new pot and then, lifting the mug to her lips, breathed it in before taking a long, slow sip. She let it warm her, reinvigorate her, before she even thought about getting back to work. Nicole had said they'd need Allie Meers, but Siskel wasn't even sure how to go about doing that. And why would they need Allie and not just go straight to Tony? Fear of prison was often enough to get a man to turn on a business partner, so why would they need Allie? Did Allie mean something to Tony?

She shook her head and took another sip. Too many fucking variables. She couldn't take it.

And then she remembered something...Jenny. Jenny wouldn't turn on Allie, despite it being all too clear Allie had been the reason Jenny had been put in the pit and mauled, even if only accidentally. What was it about this woman that almost guaranteed her cult like dedication among those around her? She smirked. Thankfully, she could go right to the source with that question.

After all, she had a cult leader in custody.

                                                                              ***

Allie pulled her shirt off over her head and then, standing in just her jeans and bra, admired herself in the mirror as Nick came out from the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel. He stopped and watched her looking at her form, and smiled.

"Hey good lookin', what's cookin'," he said, and she laughed.

"Just admirin' the goods," she said, flexing, "like these guns."

Nick cracked up and plopped himself on the bed, watching as Allie stopped and turned to face him, hands on her hips. He smiled, looking up at her as she tossed her hair from her eyes and grinned at him.

"God you're hot," he said, "I guess that's probably why I keep coming back to you."

"It isn't my winning personality?" Allie asked, "I'm hurt, Nick, wounded even."

She climbed onto him on the bed and kissed him, pushing him on his back and mounting him fully. She felt his hands run down the curve of her back and she pushed herself closer, enjoying the intimacy between them at the moment. It had been a lot of work to get back to this, to having Nick genuinely like her again, but she'd been putting in that effort because deep down she really did love him, and missed him when he was gone. After sucking on his neck for a bit, she rested her face on his chest while he ran his fingers through her hair.

"This is nice," she whispered, and he nodded.

"It really is," he said, "I really love you, Allison."

Her eyes widened. Nobody ever used her full name, and hearing him say it, so genuinely too, made her want to cry. She buried her face in his chest and cried quietly. Nick knew her relationship with her folks wasn't great, and he knew that, besides Zoe, she didn't really have anyone else, so he was stuck between an odd combination of true adoration and odd obligation. Still, the love gfar outweighed the obligation, and he really did mean it when he told her he loved her. Didn't matter if FBI agents thought she was a killer, or if Zoe thought she was morally grey because, to Nick, Allie Meers really did live up to her stage name, and she truly was astounding.

"That's almost the last one," Erin said, tossing the bag into Steven's car, adding, "boy, you sure brought a lot of shit on vacation."

"You have no idea how much baggage we brought," Steven replied, making Erin chuckle.

But there was one bag still missing from the group. Laura's bag. A bag she had hid for a reason, to delay the inevitable, stall for time, stay a bit longer. Okay, she hadn't really hidden it, and it was just a backpack, but she was keeping it close with her so her parents didn't get to decide when the car was fully packed. If anything, the bag wasn't hidden, but Laura sure was.

She was currently with Hannah, sitting under the animatronic tropical parrot display inside the hotel, something her folks didn't even know existed, so she knew she was safely tucked away for a bit at least. She was laying on the display ledge, her head in Hannah's lap as Hannah gently stroke her hair from her face.

"I don't want to go," Laura whispered.

"I know, sweetie," Hannah said, "I don't want you to go either, but we know this would happen. Every vacation has to end."

"...I can't...I can't go back to my life without you. My boring little room and my chess club and my studies. I need you."

"You'll have me. You can call me, you can e-mail me. We have ways of communication. We could even write good ol' fashioned love letters through the mail!" Hannah said, making Laura smirk.

"You're a sappy dork, I love it," Laura said, and Hannah leaned down and kissed her. Laura happily kissed her back. After the kiss broke, Laura slowly licked her lips, as if to savor Hannah's taste, before adding, "you know, if you'd told me that I'd find a girlfriend by going on vacation, I never would've believed you. I was SO shy, and SO scared about who I was, and you just...erased all of that. I feel like such a complete person now."

"I'm glad," Hannah said, gently stroking Laura's cheek with her knuckles, "you deserve to."

A few guests walked on by, and the parrots overhead started chatting, being motion activated. After a small pause, Laura sighed.

"I'm scared," she said, "what if...what if it doesn't work? What if, ten years from now, like...what if you meet someone during now and then, or decide you like boys, or-"

"First of all," Hannah said, "liking boys? That ain't ever happening, so no worries there. As for the first part of your fear, well, I suppose anything could theoretically happen, but...I'm crazy about you, Laura. Like, absolutely crazy about you. I don't see anything changing that, not even distance, definitely not time, and certainly not the two put together. I guess I can't say I know the future or what might occur between then and now, or heck, even between now and college for us both, but..."

Hannah sighed and smiled as she looked at Laura's face, her bright wide eyes staring up at her.

"I'm 16 now. I'm going to be getting my license soon. I have long winter breaks, long summer vacations - granted I'm not forced to do something with my folks - and that means, once I get my own car and can drive by myself, I can come visit you. And I absolutely will. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make this work because...like...I don't know if you noticed, but my parents aren't happy. Your parents don't seem that happy either. They seem better than mine, admittedly, but still. And I think it's because people our parents age settled. They found what felt comfortable enough, not what felt right. You feel right. That's far more important."

Laura wanted to cry. She never would've expected anyone to talk so sweetly, so romantically to her. It was like she was in some sort of romance novel.

"...as far as I'm concerned, you're my person," Hannah said, "and damn it all if I'm gonna let anything change that between now and then."

"You'd really put in that much effort over me? I'm not that interesting," Laura said.

"I'll be the judge of that," Hannah replied, leaning down and kissing her again. As their lips touched, Laura wanted to cry. She didn't want to come on this vacation, and now she didn't want to go home. She wanted this moment to last forever, just herself and Hannah, right here under these robotic birds, eternally lip locked. That, to her, was a life worth living. Meanwhile, as Steven got Jasmine buckled into the car with her device playing cartoons on it, Gayle was nowhere to be found. In actuality, Gayle was in the hotel bar, sitting and drinking. A long road home lay ahead of them, and she'd be damned if she was gonna face it sober. She heard the stool beside her pull out and glanced to see, of all people, Sasha seating herself.

"What are you doing here?" Gayle asked.

"My sister is flying in today, told her to meet me here, since she's staying at this hotel," Sasha remarked as she ordered a drink.

"Wow," Gayle said, "she's staying here willingly? We didn't have a choice."

Sasha laughed as she set her purse down on the bar top and sighed, pushing her hair back behind her. Gayle finished her drink and then ordered a plate of cheese fries for them to share.

"...are you okay?" Sasha asked, "cause the last time I saw you, you were feeling rather uncertain about yourself, and your life, and then you never called me back which, not gonna lie, kinda hurt. Thought I was past feeling that way at this point in my life but I suppose, with the right person, it can still sting."

"I'm...I'm okay," Gayle said, another drink placed in front of her, the cheese fry plate put between them; she added, "thank you."

"You're welcome, figured I'd ask since-"

"No no, not for asking that. In general. Thank you in general. For...for doing the things to me that you did. I...needed that. I feel like a completely different person now than I was when we got here, and I think a lot of is thanks directly to you, and what you did to me, for me. So thank you. Even if you've now complicated my life," Gayle said, making Sasha laugh.

"Happy to help," Sasha said, picking up some fries and eating them; after a minute, Sasha added, "ya know, for what it's worth, of all the tourists we've tried to pick up, you were the best. You were one of the few I was genuinely into as a person, and I realize that makes me sound terrible, like some kind of perverted man who only views other women as a sexual object or conquest of desire, but that's not it at all. I just really like you as a human being. I feel like we connected on a deeper level that I ever could've with those other ones. They all had perfect lives, just wanted some fun. But you, with your grief and your fear and your enjoyment of it all...that made you SO real to me, and that's so much more enticing than the seemingly perfect ones."

Gayle smiled and blushed as she picked up some more fries and chased them with her drink. He stomach would surely be upset for the remainder of the day, but she didn't care one bit. If she'd learned one thing on this trip it was indulge, indulge, indulge.

"Well, thank you," Gayle said, "gotta be honest, I'm pretty grateful that you were my first. I could've done so much worse, but you were so understanding and respectful. You made me feel not just understood and heard, but safe, and that...that just sadly isn't something most women get in a relationship, regardless of the gender of their partner."

Sasha smiled and patted Gayle on the thigh, making Gayle quiver.

"So what's the plan for when you get home?" Sasha asked.

"Honestly, not sure just yet, but it's looking more and more likely that we'll try to see someone together," Gayle said.

"You mean like a marriage counselor?" Sasha asked, smirking, making Gayle laugh as she sipped her drink.

"Yeah, we're gonna fuck a marriage counselor together, that'll really complicate matters," Gayle replied, the both of them cackling now. Back out at the car, Steven and Erin had finally finished loading the bags. Erin shut the trunk as Steven opened his wallet and Erin scoffed.

"Dude, you don't have to tip me at this point," she said.

"Oh, I wasn't," Steven said, "no, um...listen. When I won on the game show, this vacation wasn't the only thing I won. I also won money. I did some calculating based on the distance between here and where you grew up, plus the distance between there and where we live, and of course the cost of traveling all that way - gas and whatnot - and I managed to round out a figure that's completely affordable. I'm going to give you a percentage of my winnings as a charitable donation writeoff so you can go get your sister, then come to us, and we'll help you legally gain protection over her."

"...you're using me as a tax shelter? Oh Steven, you've made me the happiest girl in the world," Erin said, the both of them laughing. Steven pulled out a blank check and then asked Erin for a pen. She looked around on her person for a moment before finding one and handing it to Steven, who took it and wrote out the check. He then tore it off and handed it to Erin, whose eyes widened at the sight of the number on the paper; she bit her lip, then looked up at him and mumbled, "Steven, this is too much."

"It's not too much, it's just enough. Enough to save you and your sister. We'll carry the legal fees, so don't worry about that. You just do what you gotta do, then come to us. Our address is on the check," Steven said, before Erin lunged into him and hugged him tightly, crying. Surprised but not at all put off, Steven smiled and rubbed Erin's back, whispering that it would all be okay. Back in the hotel, Hannah and Laura were still under the parrots, in the same position, holding hands. Laura's eyes were beginning to water. The thought of going home, of not having Hannah around...it really stung.

"I really wish...mmmm," Laura said.

"What, what is it you wish?" Hannah asked, "tell me all your fears and dreams."

"I wish I could just skip ahead," Laura said, "you know? Skip all of this stuff. I don't get any enjoyment from this phase of life, well, outside of knowing you I mean. But still, I wish I could just skip ahead and be in college or be an adult and be working. I wish I could just skip ahead, just a little bit. Ten years, max."

Hannah smirked and leaned down, kissing her, whispering, "it'll come sooner than we think, trust me. Seemed like only yesterday I was 6."

"Don't say that, that's creepy," Laura said, making Hannah laugh as Laura continued, "either way I just wish I could make the future come already. I hate high school. I do well in it, but I hate it. I just wanna be grown up and do whatever I want and not worry about judgement from others."

"Oh, don't worry, they're gonna judge you even as an adult," Hannah said, "I know my parents definitely will."

Laura looked up at Hannah, a sad look in her eyes.

"And that doesn't bother you?" Laura asked, "to know you're gonna lose them?"

"The way I see it is this...either my parents love me and the person I love, or they aren't allowed to be involved in my life. Until then, sure, I'm kind of at their whim, but once I'm 18, I don't care anymore. I'm going to be who I am, and be with who I want, and that's you."

"It's just...there's no guarantee," Laura said, "I know I keep bringing that up, and it must feel bad cause of the effort we both wanna put in to making it a reality, but the truth is you never know what's going to happen in ten years time. Doen't that scare you? Because, well...when I think about it...the idea of you kissing another girl ten years from now, a girl who isn't me...it just breaks my heart."

"Then let me protect your heart," Hannah whispered as Laura sat up on her elbows as Hannah leaned in, holding her face in her hands, "let me protect your heart and prove it wrong. It won't break. If anything it'll only get stronger."

With that, Hannah kissed Laura again, and this time, it lasted a good few minutes, because inside, Laura knew this would be the last kiss they had for a long, long time. Gayle exited the bar and walked past the girls, telling Laura it was time to go. Laura gathered her things and, with Hannah, walked towards the parking lot. Erin was sitting outside on the curb, smoking, while Steven was already in the drivers seat. Gayle got into the car as Laura walked around to the opposite side and tossed her bag into the open door before looking at Hannah. Hannah smiled, both had tears in their eyes, and they hugged. They hugged tighter than either had ever hugged anyone before because they knew that this one had to last a while. Hannah raised Laura's hands to her lips and kissed them a few times, then Laura climbed into the car and shut the door. As the car began to pull away, Laura looked out the back window at Hannah, who was chasing after the car waving at her. Finally, Laura caved, and the tears started coming. Tears of relief, tears of gratitude, and tears of fear.

Because she had every right to be afraid. Ten years, after all, IS a long time, and anything can happen, regardless of how much effort you put into it. Her mother would tell her on the way home that even if nothing ever came of the relationship past this vacation, it didn't make what happened meaningless. It was still a pivotal turning point for both girls, and one they'd remember fondly forever. But this sort of sentiment didn't bring Laura any peace of mind. If nothing else, it only made her all the more certain that things would go wrong. So Laura went home. She went back to her life, to her school, to the girl at her chess club, but now she didn't fancy her at all. All she wanted was Hannah. They would spend hours on the phone, emailing, sending love letters through the mail, just doing all they could to stay in touch no matter what. And then one day, sometime in 11th grade, the calls and the emails and the letters from Hannah just stopped coming.

The way Gayle described it, if her parents really were as bad as they seemed, they likely forbid her from having contact with Laura, and while it was nice to think it wasn't an intentional ghosting, it still stung deep. Laura didn't find interest in anyone else, and all her calls were blocked, all her emails rejected by the mail server, all her letters returned unopened. Laura spent the remainder of her high school years even more isolated than before. She withdrew, she read more, she didn't date at all. She clung tightly to the keychain of Hannah's name, and she often cried herself to sleep holding it. She graduated high school with honors, and went to college to attain a degree in journalism, like she'd suggested she might do. The pain had eased, but just barely. She found other girls interesting, but didn't pursue anything. How could she? Nothing would ever measure up.

There's a reason so many people pine for their first love.

   10 YEARS LATER

The doors to the hotel opened and Laura walked inside, feeling exhausted.

All she wanted to do after such a long trip was climb into the shower and lay down before getting into bed. She stopped at the front desk and plopped her bags on the ground before handing her information over the desk to the clerk.

"Hi," she said, "Laura Walton, I have a reservation, Room 219."

"Alright," the clerk said, running the card and furrowing his brow, "this says it's for two."

"It was, but...they aren't coming. I was being stupidly hopeful," Laura said.

"Alright, well we can easily change that for you then, you'll only need one key card," the clerk said. Even now, the full decade after the fact, despite all evidence to the contrary, Laura still was hopeless enough to think Hannah might come. Might even check in before her. But at this point, her heart couldn't drop any further. She was used to the crippling disappointment. The clerk furrowed his brow and said, "...that's strange. It won't let me cancel. It's saying someone has already called ahead."

Laura's eyes widened. The doors behind her slid open, and she glanced instinctively towards it.

"Laura!" Hannah said.

Laura smiled bigger than she ever had before.

Gayle and Steven were seated in their suite, Jasmine watching TV in the other room. Neither had said a word for a while, but really...what had to be said at this point? They'd all but aired their grievances with their life by now, over the course of this vacation, and now, neither was exactly sure what to say. Steven had brought up Erin, brought up wanting to help her, and this had cause Gayle to be intrigued, because she was nothing if not interested in helping someone help their sister, if their sister was like her daughter. But that was just the tip of the iceberg, because when Gayle had gotten back to the hotel the previous night, Steven could tell she had had sex with someone, and could smell Sasha's perfume on her. Gayle said they would discuss it tomorrow, and now here they were, in tomorrow, not discussing a goddamned thing.

"...Is it her specifically?" Steven asked.

"No, it could be any woman," Gayle replied, "don't get me wrong, she's gorgeous, and very sweet, which is nice, but it could be any woman."

"Are you...gay?" Steven asked, and Gayle smiled, but shook her head.

"No. I still love you. I'm still attracted to you. And I don't want a divorce," Gayle said, "but I think something has to seriously change, and...and not just with you, but with me. I'm part of the problem. I work too much, and I recognize this, and it isn't healthy even if it's financially helpful."

"I want to change jobs," Steven said, surprising her.

"Re...really?" Gayle asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, Erin, she said I'd be really good working with developmentally disabled children," Steven said, "and, honestly...she's not wrong. I'm good with Jasmine, and I know how they work. I mean, not every kid is the same, of course, but...but I feel like I'd be good at it regardless of the differences."

Gayle hadn't expected this. She knew Steven had been unhappy with his job for a while now, but he'd never brought up the idea of switching careers. Gayle smiled, and nodded.

"I think that's a really good idea, and I think you should try it," Gayle said, "and I think I'm going to ask to step down, just have some more hours to myself, for the family. I think I have proven my worth enough to be given that, and they won't lessen my paycheck as a result. I'm the best consultant they have, and they've seen that proof tenfold. Still..."

Gayle hated admitting that she'd miss working so much, but after spending time with Laura during this vacation, witnessing her become who she was, she realized she was missing out on her childrens development, and that scared her. She didn't want to become her mom. She wanted to be there for her kids, when they needed her or even when they didn't, just to watch and see them grow and change. She wanted to help.

"Then what do we do about us?" Steven asked.

That was the real question, and Gayle had no answer.

                                                                           ***

Hannah opened up the door to her parents suite, grinning as Laura walked inside. Laura was...surprised, to say the least. The lights had been dimmed - not hard, thanks to the built in dimmer switch every room had - and Hannah had even put on some quiet instrumental music over the stereo. Laura blushed deeply, and when she turned, she found Hannah standing behind her, holding a white rose.

"I got you this," Hannah said, "I had to buy it from a lady downtown, but...but I got it for you."

Laura graciously took the rose and smelled it. She didn't know what swooning was, exactly, but later on in life when she learned what it meant, she'd look back on this moment and realize that was indeed what she was doing right now. Laura smiled at Hannah, who giggled.

"This is very sweet of you," Laura said, and Hannah shrugged.

"I mean, I just...I wanted you to have something pretty, because you're pretty," Hannah replied. Laura let her fingertips gently touch the rose's delicate petals, afraid she'd damage it if she pressed too hard. Hannah then reached out and, gently, took Laura's free hand, leading her further into the bedroom suite. Laura felt her heart catch in her chest, unsure if she could actually do this. She wanted to, so badly, but she was nervous. Hannah sat herself on the end of the bed, then patted her lap. Laura giggled, put her rose carefully on the nearby dresser and sat in Hannah's lap. Hannah held onto her waist and kissed her collarbones. Laura shut her eyes and just let Hannah press her lips against her skin, loving the sensation.

"...you're so pretty," Hannah whispered as Laura ran her hands up into Hannah's hair.

"Are you kidding me? You're the pretty one. I'm a sack of potatoes next to you," Laura said, making Hannah chuckle. Hannah pulled her face away and then, holding Laura's face, making her look at her, she smiled.

"You're so pretty," she repeated herself, "Let me show you how pretty I think you are."

With this, Hannah started kissing her lips, one hand still on her hip as her other hand slid between Laura's legs and rubbed the crotch of her shorts. Laura's breath caught in her chest as Hannah unbuttoned Laura's shorts and slid her fingers in, rubbing her properly with her fingertips now. Laura had always wondered what this kind of intimacy might feel like - she knew that a lot of the girls at school were having sex with their boyfriends, and while she hadn't exactly been in a rush to find out herself, she couldn't deny the natural curiosity was there - and now that she was experiencing it firsthand, she couldn't believe how good it felt, yet also couldn't shake how awkward she felt at letting someone be this close to her, even if that someone was Hannah. Hannah backed up on the bed and pulled Laura onto the bed with her, Laura landing on her back as Hannah climbed up over her, continuing to kiss her, rub her.

"Is this okay?" Hannah asked, and Laura nodded, panting heavily.

"This is perfect," Laura replied, "please don't stop."

Hannah grinned as Laura blushed, and Hannah kissed down Laura's bare arms in her tanktop, before pushing her shirt up and nuzzling her tummy with her lips, continuing to head south. Laura knew what was coming, she knew where Hannah was headed, and she was nothing if not surprisingly eager to feel it happen. Hannah gripped the loops on Laura's shorts and tugged gently, then stopped and looked up.

"Is this okay? Can I-"

"Yes, please, please do," Laura said, her eyes shut, biting one of her fingers. Hannah nodded and continued, pulling her shorts down and then burying her face between Laura's legs as Laura wrapped her legs around Hannah's head as their fingers laced together, holding hands tightly. Laura had never felt such pleasure before, and she never wanted it to stop.

                                                                               ***

"I think it's a good idea," Gayle said, "I really do. But it's not a decision I can make on my own, it's a decision that affects both of us, so it needs to be mutual."

Steven nodded, listening. He wanted Gayle to be happy. But the problem was, what she was suggesting would only benefit her. Sure, it'd make her happy, which in turn would make him happy, but...to allow her to see women while being married? He didn't want to see anyone else. He had no interest in anyone outside of his wife. He buried his face in his hands and did his best not to cry.

"I'm sorry, I won't bring it up again," Gayle said softly, putting a hand on Steven's back; she then added, "it was just a suggestion because, outside of getting a divorce, which neither of us wants, I don't know what to do."

"I don't either," Steven whispered, "I want you to be happy, I do. I know you're not happy like this. But I also...I'd have no interest in seeing anyone else and it would be super one sided. I worry I'd get jealous and-"

"Jealous? Steven, anyone I would sleep with would be just that, someone to sleep with," Gayle said, "there's no replacing you emotionally. You're...you're so good. You're such a good person, a good man. I'm such a lucky woman to have someone like you love me. All I'm interested in is sex with other woman, nothing more, nothing less. Purely physical."

"But not sex with me?"

"Of course sex with you," Gayle said, "why...why do you-"

Steven stood up abruptly and started pacing, his hand over his mouth. He finally stopped, leaned on the sliding glass door to the balcony and sighed.

"Do you remember the first time we slept together?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah, I do, it was special, so, kind of an important memory, my first time with my future husband and father of my children," Gayle said, the both of them chuckling nervously.

"Okay, well, you must not remember all of it," Steven said, "because...after about fifteen minutes of attempting to get into the groove, so to speak, you broke down crying. Do you not remember this?"

A hush fell over the room and the expression on Gayle's face changed dramatically.

"N..no, I...I really don't," she said, "but Steven, it was a long time ago, so-"

"You broke down crying, and I comforted you. Held you, stroked your hair, just told you that everything was alright and that if you weren't feeling up to it, we could try another night. Just tried to be as accommodating as possible. Tried to do the right thing, you know? Anyway you were just sobbing. Sobbing in a way I've never seen you sob before or since, actually. To be fair, we had been drinking a bit, and you were somewhat more sloshed than I was, so to speak. And then, at some point, you mumbled something, but cause you were crying, I couldn't make it out. I asked you to repeat yourself, and you did."

Gayle shifted anxiously, holding her own hand in her lap, biting her lip. Steven looked down at the floor and put his hands in his pockets.

"...and you did. To your credit, you were either willing enough to be that brave and open, or drunk enough, still never been sure which one it was, but regardless, you repeated it. You said, in quite possibly the saddest, meekest voice I've ever heard in my life, 'you're not her'. I didn't know what to make of that, honestly, so I didn't even bother asking a follow up. I just sort of took it at face value. But now, after this vacation, with all this context...I don't think I need to wonder anymore what you meant."

Gayle sniffled and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. Steven sat down beside her again and put a hand on her thigh as she exhaled, shakily.

"...it was this girl before you," Gayle said quietly, almost as if scared to discuss it, "her name was Casey. She was an interior decorator major, so when I got my first apartment I asked her to help me decorate it. I thought, ya know, this is what she's literally in school for but also it was a good way to get to know her. Anyway, it worked. I got to know her rather well as a result. We started spending all our time together, and she...she was so beautiful. Ethereal, almost, like an angel. Always had perfect hair. Perfect makeup. But she was also the first girl I'd ever been openly attracted to, and I was terrified of what would happen if my parents would find out."

"Understandable," Steven said.

"I was absolutely head over heels crazy for her," Gayle said, sniffling, trying not to cry now, "but, as it turns out, I was nothing more than an experiment for her. Started finding her at parties kissing men, which, I mean, I also like but still. When you're with someone, you expect to be the only person they kiss. She didn't even discuss it with me. I guess I've adapted those mannerisms now though..."

"No, you've been more than open about your attraction to women," Steven said, trying to assuage her guilt.

"Well thank you," Gayle said weekly, "uh...it got so bad. We started fighting all the time. We stopped being friends. We stopped being more than friends, and I say it like that because she never let me put a label on it, no matter how badly I wanted to, she refused. I was beyond devastated. I finally open up and act on my bicuriosity and what do I get? Bullshit. And then a few months later, I met you. That's...that's why I said that. I'm sorry, I know it's not a great explanation, but I was still pretty hung up on her even then. I'm sorry if that hurt you. I was just hurting so bad, and trying to move on brought it to the forefront."

Steven nodded, understanding his wife now better than he'd ever had before. He pulled her into him and squeezed her tight, kissing the side of her head. Gayle felt so safe with Steven, and really did love him. She didn't want what they had to end. She wanted to stay married, continue being a mom. But how could she possibly reconcile this with her interest in women?

"Gayle," Steven said, "you deserve to be happy, satisfied. Be yourself. This isn't...this isn't fair to you. Help me figure out how I can fix this for you."

"...I don't know that we can," Gayle whispered, and this broke Steven's heart.

                                                                           ***

Hannah lowered herself over Laura, one hand holding herself up, the other on Laura's face, making her blush as Hannah slipped herself between Laura's legs, grinding down against her. Laura craned her head back and breathed hard, panting, her eyes shut tight. The entire time she'd been with Hannah during the duration of this vacation, all she wanted were things of a physical nature that only seemed to progress the more they did. First she liked just holding her hand. Then she liked kissing her. But now, to be having sex for the first time, it was an amazing way of connecting that she never expected to experience at this age. Hannah kissed Laura again on the lips, whispering into her mouth.

"You're so beautiful," she said, her breath warm and wet; she continued, "I can't believe we're doing this."

"My dad always told me to wait until I was older," Laura said, half laughing as she grabbed Hannah's thigh and rolled her hips upwards, making Hannah moan; Laura added, "but all my peers are doing it."

"If all your peers were jumping off a bridge, would you do that too?" Hannah asked, the both of them cracking up.

Laura ran her hands up onto Hannah's hips and gripped them tightly, her fingertips sinking into Hannah's soft, warm skin. This felt almost...natural. Like she knew exactly what to do. There was no awkwardness, and that surprised her. She'd listened to some of her peers talk about how awkward the whole experience was, how painful it had been (of course for them they were doing penatrative, which makes sense to hurt the first time, and this wasn't the case with Laura) and how uncomfortable they'd felt throughout.

But...none of this was awkward or painful or uncomfortable. In fact, Laura had almost never felt more sure of herself than in these moments. She sat up and kept grinding against Hannah as she buried her face in Hannah's chest, Hannah's fingers becoming lost in Laura's hair. Laura knew what masturbation was like, she'd done it more than enough times to count, but the feeling she was getting from this wasn't like that. She opened her eyes and looked across the room, through the space under Hannah's arm, at the rose that was sitting on the dresser. She shut her eyes and buried her face back into Hannah's chest, as she felt her stomach tighten, her breath sharpen, her muscles clench. Whatever this was, it felt incredible, and she didn't want it to stop.

And before she knew it, she and Hannah were laying motionless on the bed, Hannah still on top, kissing her neck gently. Laura had never, in all her time masturbating, experienced a proper orgasm, so this entire feeling took her by complete surprise. Hannah kissed just under Laura's ear and whispered.

"You smell so good," Hannah said.

"I love you," Laura said suddenly, before widening her eyes and blushing. Hannah giggled and kissed her again, holding her face in her hands, her forehead resting against Laura's.

"I love you too," Hannah said, "...please just stay with me."

"I will. I promise," Laura mumbled, her brain scrambled from the concoction of hormones and emotions, "I promise."

Laura was not certain about much, but she was certain about two things. The first was that she was happier with Hannah than she'd ever possibly imagined, and the second...the second was that she would never become her mother.

                                                                               ***

Gayle was leaning on the balcony, smoking a cigar with Steven, passing it back and forth between the two of them as they looked out over the pool below. Gayle knew Laura had gone to Hannah's a while ago, but she had no idea her daughter was losing her virginity, nor would she really care. As far as Gayle was concerned, only Laura could make that decision of when the best time was for her. She was, however, expecting her back by now. She took a long puff then handed the cigar back to Steven.

"I could dress up as a woman," Steven said, making Gayle laugh.

"That's a very sweet offer, and honestly kinda hot, but no thank you," Gayle replied, "Steven, let's just go to counseling. Maybe I can just...push past it. Ignore it and-"

"You should never have to ignore who you are," Steven said, "that's the last fucking thing I want you to do. Well, I don't know, kind of a tie between that and leaving me. Neither are preferable, frankly."

"Then what do we do?" Gayle asked, and Steven shrugged.

"Right now, I say we go home tomorrow, we help Erin out, and we work through things one day at a time. And if there's no alternative than just...ya know...you meeting women, then that's what we-"

"What if we both did?" Gayle asked, "...what if we found a woman we both liked, who liked both of us? We could be a thruple. I know we're going from a fairly traditional family unit to something somewhat nontraditional in no time at all, but...what about that? That way you wouldn't feel neglected."

"But the only woman I want is you," Steven said, leaning in and kissing her shoulder, "you're...you're it for me."

Gayle blushed and laid her head on his shoulder.

"Marriage kinda sucks sometimes," she said.

"Yeah, it can," Steven said, "but it's worth it. Maybe your idea isn't too bad. We can look into that."

Gayle smiled and hid her face in his arm. She was so lucky to have a man so understanding, and so willing to work on things with her. When Laura finally got back to the hotel about a half hour later, she told her mother what happened, and her mother held her and cried. Not because her daughter was growing up. But because she was getting everything Gayle herself had never gotten.

Parenthood also kinda sucks sometimes.