Allie was having trouble breathing, but her shortness of breath wasn't caused by anything health related, or sexual, and moreso because she simply couldn't believe she was finally here, on the precipice of finality. The end was in sight. She sat in her car and exhaled again before putting her shaky hands on her steering wheel and looked out the window at the nearby hospital. She then turned the car off, climbed out and headed inside. His room wasn't hard to find, he'd given it to her directly, but still...could she stand to witness him in this state? Hell, he'd sounded bad and that was just over the phone.

Allie stopped at his door, took another long breath, and then opened the door, stepping inside. There was one bed, with a curtain surrounding it. Allie approached cautiously, concerned she was bothering him, but as she reached out to tug the curtain back, she was taken by surprise when it moved on its own, his own hand doing the job for her from the opposite side. His face, weathered and wrinkled and worn, looking older than before somehow, but his smile still warm as ever.

"You're not as stealthy as you might think," Rufus said.

"I just didn't want to wake you up in case you'd fallen back asleep before I got here," Allie replied, pulling up a nearby chair and sitting down beside his bed; she crossed her legs then asked, "so...you don't look well."

"Gee, you're such a comfort," Rufus remarked, laughing and coughing as he did, making Allie smirk; he continued, "yeah, I don't look well. I don't know how not well I look, but I also don't want to. They've offered me a mirror, like when they've trimmed my mustache, but I've turned it down simply cause I don't want to see my face."

"I can't say I blame you," Allie said, shifting nervously in her seat, "actually, I'm glad you called, cause I needed to talk to you."

"Sorry it's not under happier circumstances," Rufus said, and Allie shrugged.

"Believe me, I've spent a good chunk of time in the hospital in the last few years so," Allie said, "um...Rufus, you want to see Raymond burn, right? You want to see him pay for everything he's done? Cause I have the smoking gun, right here in my pocket, but I need your help. You're the last piece of the puzzle."

A pause, and Rufus grinned.

"Well, with an offer like that, how can I say no?" he asked.

***

Salem waltzed into the garage to find Sonia kneeling down, welding mask over her face. Hands in his coat pockets, he whistled at the bike she was currently engaged with, causing her to stand up and tug the mask off, grinning at him.

"Nice piece of machinery," he said.

"Hopefully they won't be able to pay for it and I'll get to claim it as my own," Sonia remarked, setting her tools down and wiping her grease stained hands on her jumper, "not even gonna put in the shop, just gonna buy it immediately once they lapse. I might be a pawn merchant, but nobody's gettin' this baby."

"I don't blame you," Salem said, "and speaking of vehicles, I'm gonna need that car back sooner than I thought, I think."

"Oh?" Sonia asked, grabbing a half eaten sandwich off a nearby metal tray and taking a large bite, "and why is that?"

"Because it's mine, well, my friends, and we need it," Salem said, "magic stuff, you know how it is. I wouldn't have asked you to hold onto it, but, ya know, we didn't know where else to keep it. Often people don't use cars as props, unless you're film, I suppose."

Sonia smirked and nodded, walking to the wall and retrieving a fob with keys on it, turning back and heading back to Salem as she spun it around her finger.

"Thanks, by the way, I really...we really appreciate it," Salem said, but as she approached him, she stopped and grabbed the key fob in her fist, pulling her arm back away from Salem, who looked at her with a concerned stare on his face. Sonia bit her bottom lip and Salem rolled his eyes, before adding, "okay, alright, how much?"

"Maybe I don't want money," Sonia said, "maybe I want the car."

Salem hadn't seen that coming, he had to admit. His eyes widened at this shocking admittance, and he pulled his own arm back now, confused, concerned. He cleared his throat and shook his head a little, as if he were trying to understand what he'd just been told.

"Say what now?" he asked, chuckling anxiously, "uh, please, do me a solid and run that by me again, cause I think I misheard you, either that or you said something so incredibly ridiculous that-"

"No. I didn't. And you didn't. I like the car, and I want it," Sonia said.

"Okay, well, you can't have it? So..." Salem replied, "seriously, it's for an act, and we-"

"Cut the shit, dude," Sonia said, "seriously, you think I'm an idiot? A casino gets robbed, a car gets stolen, and suddenly you and your magician friends need somewhere to store a vehicle? Yeah, not exactly subtle, Shaw. I want. The car."

Salem exhaled. There was always one more fucking problem, it seemed.

***

Raymond and Claire were seated at a fine seafood restaurant, the kind with soft lighting and smooth jazz and a pleasant aroma of money and fish. The kind only the elite could afford. And today...as his guest...Claire was one of the elite. Raymond adjusted his tiny spectacles and then pulled them off his face, rubbing his eyes with his hand as he let his menu drop.

"You know, eyesight going bad is one of the things you know is likely gonna happen, but you just...you never really expect it," he said, "when it sneaks up on you like that, you're not prepared."

"Lot of stuff like that in life, one could argue death is like that," Claire said, biting her lip, her eyes catching his and the two of them chuckling; she too lowered her menu and exhaled, "um, thank you for meeting with me on such short notice."

"Of course, anything for a friends kin," Raymond said, placing his napkin on his lap and adding, "so, what exactly is it that I can help you with?"

"My father was moving money hoping officials wouldn't notice," Claire said, "of course they did, but that's beside the point. I'm assuming it's a practice most people in your business wind up doing, so I was curious if you had any advice to give me on how to avoid any issues with authorities."

"The thing to remember is this," Raymond said, cupping his hands on the table and leaning in a little, his voice lower, more shifty now; "they'll try to tie as much proof to you as possible, but proof isn't definitive, despite its preconceived definition. That's why juries be swayed so easily to believe a seemingly completely guilty man is actually innocent. So long as you believe you're innocent, that will come through. Obviously being in control of information helps, but you'd be surprised by just how much charm and charisma can get you."

Claire smirked. She didn't need to be told that. Charm and charisma had been how she'd managed to get as far as she had in life. Hell, it's exactly why she was here right now. Claire thanked him, then lifted her glass to sip.

"Course even those things aren't guaranteed," Raymond continued, "sometimes you can spot a liar from ten feet away."

Claire slowly glanced over the rim of her glass and noticed Raymond was looking directly at her. Her pulse quickened. Did he know? He wasn't stupid. She knew that. But had she downplayed his ability to be as good at calling fakery as she was?

"Sometimes," he added, sucking on his teeth, "you can have all the charm and charisma in the world, and still be completely obvious."

Just then the waiter arrived, thankfully breaking the tension. They didn't talk much throughout the rest of the meal.

***

"Do me a favor Allie," Rufus said.

Allie and Rufus had gone over the plan, and they were now simply enjoying their time together; she'd run back out and gotten him an actual sandwich, not something from the hospital cafeteria, along with one for herself, so they could have a nice lunch in the hospital room. As he chewed a mixture of salami and cheese, he went on.

"Don't spend your life doing magic," Rufus said, "it...it isn't worth it, and I say that as someone who loves it."

"What do you do when you're only good at one thing, and only passionate about said thing?" Allie asked, "I don't...like anything else. Nothing else has ever appealed to me the way that magic does, and...without it...I don't know who I am or if I even wanna be."

Rufus nodded, picking up his soda from the side table and taking a long sip on the straw.

"I know what you mean, but nobody is only good at one thing," Rufus said, "it takes many skills to be a magician, and you can apply those skills to other things in life. You're more than you think you are, Allie, trust me. You think you aren't, because we're inherently designed to believe the worst about ourselves, but you are. You've been so damaged for so long that you have trouble seeing past the broken and the hurt to the goodness underneath, but it's there. And the broken and the hurt don't diminish either the goodness or your sense of worth in general, they're a part of you, and you can use them to do more."

Allie buried her face in her hands, crying, sandwich fully in her lap now. Rufus sat up, unaware he'd do that much damage with his words, and reached out to touch her back.

"I'm sorry, I didn't to-"

"No, it's fine."

"I just didn't want you to become me."

"Why is it so easy for other older adults to parental figures to me than it was for my own parents?" Allie asked through the sobs, "I begged my parents for things, and not physical goods, but just guidance or acceptance or, fuck, recognition as a person, and got nothing. I walk into this room and you give me whatever I want, no questions asked. Why couldn't they?"

Rufus exhaled and shook his head.

"I can't tell you that, Allie, I wish I could but I can't," he said, "but I can tell you why I do it. I see us in eachother. I see, in you, the person I was. So willing to do whatever it took to protect those we cared about, and still be faithful to our craft. But I also see in me the person you can become if you don't do something different. I want more for you than what I got. One of us deserves a happy ending."

Allie turned and looked at him, her face completely wet. He smiled warmly at her, fingers digging into her shoulder, gripping firly, squeezing.

"Especially since your ending will come so much later than mine, you still have time," Rufus said, and the tone in his voice caught Allie off guard; she looked at him again, their eyes locked. Rufus nodded, and her lip quivered.

"...no," she said.

"Fraid so," he mumbled, "yeah. Why do you think I'm so willing to do this for you, besides believing in you, and that you deserve better? I got nothing to stick around for. I had a young womans life ruined by her association with me, it just seems like last thing I could do on this earth would be to help a different young woman escape the same fate."

"Rufus," Allie muttered, her voice fragile, "I'm...I'm so sorry."

"Eh, don't be. Show's gotta end sometime right? May as well leave 'em with something to remember us by," he said, smirking, chuckling then coughing, making Allie laugh along with him. Allie scooted the chair closer and hugged him, arms clasped tightly over his shoulders. He smiled and rubbed her back as he added, "the word astounding isn't just because of your abilities in magic, you really are astounding, and please don't ever believe otherwise."

"I won't, I promise," she said softly.

And it was yet another promise she made sure she'd keep.

By the time she arrived back at Jenny's, she was a mess. She'd stayed in her car in the hospital parking lot after leaving and cried herself stupid for at least a good twenty minutes or so, just letting it all out. When she finally stepped through the door to Jenny's, Jenny, understandably, was visibly concerned. Allie brushed her off for a moment, opting instead to go to the bathroom and take a long shower, but after a bit, Jenny came into the bathroom and sat on the toilet seat, not saying a word, the two just enjoying one anothers silent presence.

"I need a favor," Allie finally said through the shower curtain, the sound of the water.

"Anything," Jenny said, "I'd do anything for you."

"Okay two favors; the first of which is to stop being so loyal to people who don't deserve your loyalty, and the second is I need to see my tiger," Allie said.

Jenny stiffened. The last time Allie had asked for this favor, Jenny had lost her face. It was understandable why she'd be so hesitant, react so heavily. The towel slung over the shower bar was tugged down, and seconds later the shower curtain itself was pulled back, Allie revealing herself standing there, wrapped in the towel. Jenny's breath caught in her throat. Allie was still so gorgeous. She wanted to do anything to make her happy. But the tiger...

...she didn't even know if she could. She didn't even know if she could get access, or if she wanted to go with her even. The idea of seeing it again terrified her outright. Allie stepped over the tub lip and approached Jenny, holding her chin gently in her palm, until Jenny looked up at Allie and their eyes met. She didn't have to say anything though. Jenny could see it in her eyes. Allie was never going to love her the way she loved Allie. It'd become excessively clear to Jenny just how one sided this entire relationship actually was, but that didn't stop her from being hopelessly in love.

"Please Jenny," she whispered, "I'm so close to the end. I just need this one last thing from you. Can you help set me free?"

Jenny slowly nodded. With that, Allie leaned down and kissed her forehead, then headed to the olive colored landline phone hung on the kitchen wall and plucked it from its perch. There was just one thing she had to do now. One more person she had to convince to meet with her.

Jackson Strange.

***

Zoe was sitting on the bed, huddled up in a large sweatshirt, when Effie flicked the lights on as she entered the room. She was immediately taken by surprise by her presence, and jumped a bit, grinning, hand to her chest.

"Goodness ya gave me a fright!" she said, "what are you doing in here, alone, sulking in the dark?"

"...I don't deserve to be married," Zoe whispered, the guilt about Raindrop, even after what she and Rachel St. Sebastian had done for her memory, eating away at her slowly from the inside; she wiped her nose on her sweatshirt sleeve and added, "I've done horrible things. I'm a bad person and I deserve bad things."

Effie settled on the bed in front of her on her knees, taking Zoe's face between her palms and forcing her to look up at here, where she smiled sweetly, warmly.

"Humans do good and bad shit," Effie said, "there's no such thing as good and evil, it's not that cut and dry. There's shades of both. Layers to each. You're not bad, baby. You've been surrounded by bad, but you're not bad yourself."

"It's so overwhelming trying to plan a wedding with everything else going on and feeling like I don't deserve it on top of it, I almost feel like I'm self sabotaging my planning progress because deep down I believe I don't deserve you, or happiness, or love, because of the things that I've been a part of."

"Well that just isn't true, and if it's that overwhelming, then don't plan it," Effie said, causing Zoe's eyes to widen.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Effie said, leaning and kissing her softly, "let's get in my car, and let's go to a chapel and let's just get married tonight. It's fucking Vegas, babe. It's kinda what we do here."

Zoe blushed, then started laughing, nodding. Before she knew it, she and Effie were in their matching dresses and out the door, in Effie's car, as she drove to the closest chapel. Unbeknownst to Zoe, Allie was also in a car. She and Jenny were headed to where Domino was currently living, though neither was saying a word, the air surrounding them completely different. As they pulled up to the lot, Jenny used her key card to get in, then Allie pulled forward, as another car followed up close behind her. The two cars parked, and Allie exhaled. She turned the car off then looked at Jenny.

"Whatever happens," Allie said, "don't get out of this car, okay?"

Jenny stared at her.

"I need you to promise me that," Allie said, grabbing Jenny's hand and squeezing it, "promise me you won't get out of this car and go anywhere near that pit."

Jenny nodded, as Allie let her hand go and exited the car. The other car opposite them opened its driver side door, and Jackson Strange leaned out. Allie stopped in her tracks and the two magicians stared at one another.

"Meers," Strange said.

"Strange," Allie replied.

"Let's talk, what is this about? You ready to come clean?" Strange asked, and Allie giggled.

"No, that isn't what this is about," she said, "no, this is about how you're going to take the blame for everything."

"Oh, is it now?" Strange asked, "Well I can't wait to hear how you plan to make that happen."

Allie approached and leaned against the car, grabbing his tie with her hand and pulling him in.

"Bitch," she whispered, "it already happened."

Strange had to admit...girl had stage presence.

Rachel St. Sebastian loved two things.

Working on cadavers, and being on her knees between a womans legs, and thankfully, rooming here at this funeral home under her apprenticeship while attending mortuary school, she got to do both, a lot. The woman who ran the funeral home, an older woman named Alyssa, had taken more than just a shining to Rachel, and soon enough, Rachel had happily become a staple in her bedroom. She'd had a perfect day. They'd worked on a corpse together after she got out of class, and then they went to dinner and then came home, where Rachel St. Sebastian now found herself on her knees at the floor by the end of the bed, her face buried deep between Alyssa's soft, warm thighs, her cries of pleasure filling the room, her fingers gripping Rachel's hair. As she climaxed, Rachel gladly cleaning it all with her tongue, Alyssa felt like the luckiest funeral director in the world. And Rachel? Well. Her parents always told her college was all about new experiences.

                                                       ***

"Why do you have taxidermy in your room?" Katie asked.

"Because I do it for fun," Rachel replied, shrugging. Katie had been Rachel's damn near only friend all throughout school, but now, about to finish high school and attend college, she couldn't help but feel like they'd grown apart, and part of that was just because Rachel's interests discomforted Katie.

"You do it for fun?" Katie asked, sneering as she looked at the bird on the shelf.

"When I was a kid," Rachel said, sitting up on her bed now, "I used to collect dead animals and stuff, keep em in shoe boxes. I just...always found death weirdly beautiful. Like...there's this odd sense of serenity, you know? The things we thought were huge, that we made grandiose gestures towards, didn't really matter, because we all end up this way in the end and I guess that's kind of the approach I want to have in life. Not be so worried all the time. Not take everything so seriously. Also, I just like birds."

Katie laughed and sat back on the bed.

"You're so weird, dude, I'm gonna miss you," Katie said, and Rachel smiled back. She would miss Katie too, but she knew that she was headed for new and better things. They both were. And they graduated, they went to their respective colleges and, as usually happens, they drifted apart slowly over the course of the next year. Katie went into interior design and fashion, while Rachel St. Sebastian wound up in an apprenticeship during her tenure at mortuary school, and becoming intimately involved with her boss. All in all, it was good. It was a new life. She called her folks once a month, kept them at arms length, and she focused on her career, her studies, and her love for women.

And then...a few years after college...Katie called her up.

"I'm glad you're easy to find," Katie told her, as she lay in her bed at home, Rachel sitting in a chair beside her, "I'm glad I reached out and looked, because it just...didn't seem right not to. I'm sorry that I got so distant. I'm sorry that now the only reason you're seeing me is because I'm about to die from illness. But I'm glad you're here. Cause there's nobody else I'd trust with this."

Rachel was confused. Trust with what, exactly, she wondered.

"I want you to do it," Katie whispered, reaching out and taking Rachel's hand, smiling warmly as she ran her thumb over the skin of her fingers, "I want you to do my autopsy, prepare me for burial, all of that. I want you to do it."

"Excuse me?" Rachel asked, genuinely shocked, her eyes wide.

"You say you see beauty in death. I dedicated my life to beauty. The beauty of homes, and people, fashion and interior design are all about looking great," Katie said, pausing to wipe her nose, "and...I don't look great now, but you could make me look great. Please. Do this for me. I trust you."

Rachel had never worked on the body of a person she knew, but...how did one turn down someone who was dying, who meant so much to them at one point in their formative years? So she said yes, because that's what Rachel St. Sebastian had been brought up to do. To say yes. She was a people pleaser, especially to those she felt connected to, such as Katie Gillis. And after Katie passed, she did exactly what she'd been requested. She received the body, and she did the work. She emptied her, embalmed her, and got her looking as pretty as possible. Standing there in the funeral home the day of the showing, in the back smoking a cigarette, Rachel St. Sebastian felt like she was changed now, somehow. Like the allure of death had somehow been jaded by this act of kindness. Women had always requested things from her that she didn't want to give them. Katie, asking her to embalm her. Alyssa, coming onto her. Her own mother had pushed her to do things in school she didn't want to do, either socially or academically. All her life, Rachel St. Sebastian had simply said 'yes' to other women.

She would never say yes to herself.

                                                       ***

Rachel hated these little get togethers.

She hated talking to other morticians and funeral home directors, but she came because it was good to be kept in the loop, especially about new tools, new equipment, and, of course, for the snacks. Standing at the table and picking at the little sandwiches and cheese and cracker plates, the small cookies, she figured if nothing else at least she might not have to eat dinner when she got home.

"You guys are all kinda morbid," a woman said from beside her. Rachel turned and saw a young woman with bushy red hair and big round glasses standing there, smiling at her.

"Well, we are morticians," Rachel replied, "I mean, it just kinda comes with the territory."

"You didn't seem very interested in being sociable," the woman said, "and I don't mean that as a judgment or anything, I mean, hell, who wants to be sociable, am I right? What good has ever come from knowing others? I guess I more am just wondering if you're okay, cause you seemed so reserved."

Rachel smiled weakly. The woman really got her sense of disillusion with other people, and she liked that. She also appreciated how she seemingly was concerned for her well being.

"I'll be alright," Rachel said, shrugging, "I've had a rough week. Lot of bodies. Had to order new supplies, which is always a frustrating endeavor. Dealing with suppliers is my least favorite part of my job. Having to pretend to be all friendly...as you said, being sociable is horrid."

"What did you have to order?" the woman asked, picking up a little cupcake from the table.

"Some new tools, new equipment, ether, things like that," Rachel said, not noticing the woman smirking.

"I'm Claire," the woman finally said, reaching out, leading to Rachel shaking her hand as she added, "so, if you don't like being sociable, how about we leave and we go discuss the awfulness of human interaction elsewhere, away from people?"

Rachel St. Sebastian finally turned back and looked this woman up and down. Was she...propositioning her? Rachel didn't know it at the time, but Claire really wanted her access to ether more than anything else, as she'd found that it calmed the horrible thoughts and voices that constantly ran through her head. In the end, yes, Claire would find Rachel to be a wholly intriguing and worthwhile person to know, would develop romantic feelings for her, but at the start? She was the means to an end, nothing more, nothing less, just like every other person she saw in life. And maybe it was how attractive she was, maybe it was the fact Rachel hadn't been laid in months, maybe it was the fact that, after so many years spent being closed off, she wanted to be with someone again...but Rachel was willing to give it a shot.

"Where did you have in mind?" Rachel asked, as Claire leaned in and whispered.

"Well," Claire said softly, their faces a mere inch apart now, her breath hot on Rachel's face, causing her heartbeat to quicken; Claire continued, "I've always wanted to know what it's like to be on the table. You've got one of those, right? Where you embalm them?"

Rachel nodded slowly, feeling herself flush.

"Show me the other side," Claire whispered, and that was all it took. Rachel St. Sebastian was hooked. For the next few years she would give Claire ether so long as Claire kept her satisfied sexually, and it was a mutually beneficial exchange, each one appreciating and enjoying the others company genuinely, and not solely involved for the things they got out of it. But over time, Rachel once again became aware - especially once Claire had gotten the cult going, moved onto the compound - how much she was willing to sacrifice just for a pretty girl who liked her. Once again, she didn't say no. She just went along. And when Claire finally killed someone, and begged her to help, she didn't say no.

But, would it matter, really, if she did? Would the word 'no' even mean anything to Claire?

She hoped it would. But she couldn't be certain, and that terrified her more than anything else.

***

"Would you be willing to entertain the possibility that your own parents detachment from your life, particularly your mother, is why you crave the approval of other women?" her therapist asked, causing Rachel to grimace.

"Maybe," she replied, shrugging, "but I don't think it's that simple. I wish it were, but I don't think it is. I think I just want to be appreciated. Hell, even my job centers around doing things for people who aren't even alive anymore. Even the needs of those who've shuffled off this mortal coil gain more importance than my own to myself. I do everything for other people."

"You do, and it isn't healthy," her therapist said, "but it's good you recognize it."

"Well I'm not an idiot," Rachel remarked, shrugging, "I know my flaws and my faults, that's why I'm in therapy, because I am aware enough of them to want to change them if they are, in fact, things that can be changed. But I like taking care of others, too, so it's a hard tight rope to balance on."

Rachel looked out the window, then down to her shoes. Black. Shiny. Bright gold buckles. She smiled as she tapped her cigarette on a nearby ashtray.

"Claire got me these shoes," Rachel said, "she used to do nice things for me like that. She used to think of me a lot. But I suppose that's how relationships are, right? They eventually sour or simmer down. Things stop feeling as special. You just...you're never prepared for it if you're a hopeless romantic, you want the honeymoon period to be eternal."

Her therapist nodded, taking in her train of thought before clearing their throat and crossing their arms as they sank back into their chair.

"Do you think it's healthy to want it to be eternal?" they asked, "I mean, that level of co-dependency can't be good, right? To never be, like, your own person?"

"See I don't see it like that. I don't see it like...two people coming together to form one, that isn't codependent to me, that's love. You share your life with eachother, but you won't share eachother? Something about modern romantic mentality doesn't add up to me. And now...the things Claire has done, not just to me but to people around me that we know, I don't want to be associated with someone so callous, who only puts herself at the front, especially when my entire career is built on the concept of helping others."

"That's admirable," her therapist replied, nodding some more before asking, "so then, in that case, what do you do about it?"

Claire thought, chewing her lip. That was the question, right? She didn't have the answer. She couldn't cut Claire off. She couldn't turn Claire in. All she could hope for was that the universe would eventually course correct itself. All the other evils that surrounded her were seemingly finally getting their just desserts. Maybe the same would happen to Claire. And if that day ever came...oh if it ever happened...

...maybe some new shoes would be in order, and that way she could walk away fully on her own.

***

"Do you know what the False Shuffler is?" Zoe asked.

Zoe and Rachel had been meeting for lunch almost daily. It was weirdly therapeutic for each of them; Zoe, because Rachel had been the one to clean Raindrop up, and Rachel because Zoe was the closest thing to Allie, which Claire was obsessed with. Sitting at the pizza parlor downtown, Rachel took a long sip of her soda and shook her head.

"Pray tell what is the false shuffle?" Rachel asked.

"So, obviously, it's a magic term. A False Shuffle is a card shuffling technique that makes a deck of cards appear to be randomized when its order actually remains the same or is subtly altered. Basically, you give the illusion that you aren't retaining control, when, in actuality, you still have total control over the cards," Zoe said.

"And you're telling me this why?" Rachel asked, a smirk on her lips.

"Because it feels like everyone around me is constantly doing false shuffles, you know? Allie likes to act as though she has no plan, flying by the seat of her pants, but is she really or is that all just an act so she can claim innocence? I'm sure you think the same thing about Claire," Zoe said, "either way, I trust Allie, but...I do have to remind myself at times that she's an expert liar, it's what makes her so good at magic in the first place."

"Even if you lack control, to give off the illusion that you're still in control is a valuable one," Rachel said, picking up her pizza and taking a long bite, chewing as she added, "because it throws off everyone else around you. They'll constantly question reality. That's a good upper hand to have."

Zoe shrugged and bit into her own pizza. Rachel reached for a napkin and dabbed gingerly at her mouth. She sighed, setting it back down and looking at the pizza on the plate before her.

"It is important to always act as though you're in charge, even if you're not, because it can ultimately give you the upper hand," Rachel said, "but I don't think we see magicians the same way. You act as though they're geniuses, capable of outsmarting anyone. You speak of them in terms of expert card tricksters. I see them much more in the way of someone playing the shell game on the street. Yes, Allie...and Claire...they're liars. But Allie is doing it for the benefit of those around her. Claire is not. So maybe count your blessings, and don't count cards."

Zoe nodded slowly, taking it in. Rachel had been through hell and back, she knew that, and she knew not to second guess whatever advice she had to offer up, especially on the topic of hero worship. She knew Rachel had hitched her wagon to an unhinged horse, and now was paying the price. And she also knew that, eventually, the horse would have to be put down.

***

"Your friends seemed perturbed by our age difference," Rachel said.

She and Alyssa had just finished a tryst, and Alyssa was now standing at the minibar she had in her bedroom, fixing them both drinks. Alyssa chuckled as she mixed some drinks and then turned to face Rachel, who was still lying in bed, sheet barely covering her over the hip.

"It doesn't bother you, does it?" Alyssa asked.

"I couldn't care less," Rachel remarked, shaking her head, "no, I'm not perturbed. I'm aware of it, and aware of the perception others might have of it, but I know what I like, what I want, I'm an adult. I was just making small talk was all."

Alyssa finished the drinks and brought them back to the bed, handing one to Rachel who sipped it carefully. Rachel, in hindsight, would later realize how young and naive she was, but all people that age thought they were more mature than their peers. Even as she neared her mid twenties, out of college, she still thought it. It was likely she always would.

"Do you ever think about who is going to take care of you when you finally go?" Rachel asked, "I had a friend...this friend growing up, and she...she asked me specifically to take care of her when she died. I did it. But it felt...wrong. Sex is supposed to be this intimate thing, you know, to give oneself to another fully, but embalming someone you care about, that feels so much more intimate. Seeing them at their absolute weakest. No longer alive. That's trust."

"She probably felt safe with you," Alyssa said, wiping her mouth on the sleeve of her robe.

"She shouldn't," Rachel whispered.

She knew, even then, somehow, that she would end up doing terrible things. Not of her own accord, exactly, but she would. Now, today, standing in the room over her table as she watched yet another person drain of their fluids, different fluid pumped inside them, cigarette hanging loosely from her lips, Rachel St. Sebastian realized that if she could just do one good thing...one amazing thing, maybe it would make right all the wrong she'd been a part of. Maybe karma wasn't real. Maybe fate didn't exist. Evil is rarely held accountable and justice is rarely served. The one lesson Claire had taught her was that if you want something done right, you had to do it yourself.

And she knew exactly what she had to do.

"What do you mean Nicole has a book?" Allie asked.

She was sitting up now, staring at Tony.

"When I met with Raymond, he talked about, uh...about how he and Nicole loved coffee, and that they would often go to various coffee places around the city, get coffee and take reviews of them for their own amusement. She had these little black notebooks that she kept her coffee ratings in. You say the agents say they didn't find anything damning enough, it's because the information they're looking for doesn't look like information. After that meeting I got to thinking..."

Tony stood up and started pacing slowly, one hand on his hip, the other on his face.

"...what if she kept all of it, every last pertinent detail in one of these books," Tony continued, "and that's why they didn't find it. I know they took all her stuff, right, but they obviously didn't take those. You open one, see what it is, open another, see what it is, you think 'oh, that's all these little books are, nothing of value here', but that's where the value is, hidden in plain sight. The likelihood of that information still being in her apartment...it's so high. Just sitting on a shelf."

Allie stood up slowly from the couch, staring at Tony, who was staring back at her as she started to breath heavily.

"And if I'm right," he added, "and she does have it in one of those, and they just...ignored it...that's it. That's the end. That's the smoking gun they want and need, and we will be in the clear. You need to get into that penthouse and look for that book, Allie."

Allie nodded. He was right. If the agents had simply...overlooked it, somehow, then everything they needed that would cinch it all together neatly was just sitting somewhere in plain view, staring them in the face. And Allie knew exactly who she needed to call for help.

                                                       ***

Rachel St. Sebastian gasped, leglocking Claire's head and pulling her in closer between her thighs. Rachel reached back and grabbed the headboard as her stomach muscles clenched and she screamed, making Claire blush as she kept on licking. Rachel St. Sebastian hated herself. This control Claire had over her, to both disgust and arouse her. It felt like she was so at odds within herself at all times, and it made the sex - something that should be enjoyable - feel tainted. Afterwards, when Rachel had lit a cigarette and was sitting off the side of the bed as Claire showered in the bedrooms attached bathroom with the door open, she couldn't take her eyes off her silhouette...but not for the reasons one might assume.

Oh, sure, Claire had a phenomenal body, and Rachel loved admiring it in any variety of ways, but no. Her mind was set on something different. Here she was, indifferent to her presence, her mind occupied on something else. How easy it would be, Rachel thought as she looked towards a nearby belt draped over a chair, to just...come up from behind and end it all. Strangle her until the light left her eyes. Give her a taste of her own medicine. The freedom she would receive was exhilarating. But she couldn't...she couldn't. She loved her too deeply. Rachel took another drag and thought about the work day ahead of her tomorrow. Multiple showings, funerals, reconstructions and bodies to work on. She exhaled, watching the smoke billowing in front of her face as Claire exited the bathroom, having dried herself off and now in search of clothes.

"I'm too up to sleep," Claire said, "do you want to go get some food?"

"I don't...I don't know that I'm hungry," Rachel said.

"You really expect me to believe that didn't build up an appetite?" Claire asked, glancing over her shoulder, grinning and winking as she dug into a dresser drawer for clothes, making Rachel chuckle. Claire pulled a button down shirt on and popped the collar, then began to button up, adding, "come on pet, it's my treat."

Rachel St. Sebastian grimaced at that nickname once again. Pet. Even if said affectionately, it made her feel ill. Just as she opened her mouth to respond, Claire's cell rang, and she answered.

"Hello?" she asked, before grinning wide, "Meers, what can I do for you?"

"How do you feel about committing a crime?" Allie asked, and Claire laughed.

"You don't gotta ask twice," she said.

Claire finished getting dressed, kiss Rachel goodbye and said she'd be back later. Claire having left now, Rachel St, Sebastian found herself fully alone, and, post orgasm, her mind was unfogged now. She looked back at the belt and she bit her lip. Pet. She shuttered again. She thought back to her last therapy appointment, talking about the threefold rule. If anyone deserved to be hit by that level of karma, it was Claire. Rachel couldn't be here any longer. She needed to do something to take her mind off things, off Claire, so she got up, got dressed and headed to work. Standing in the room, over a body cut open on the metal slab, digging around in someones insides, it was all Rachel could do to not lose her mind. Staring down at this cadaver, she just imagined it was Claire. She knew that, regardless of anything else, eventually time catches up to us all, and that was the one bit of comfort it brought Rachel St. Sebastian, was that, at some point, Claire would be the one on the table.

                                                         ***

The elevator was taking its sweet time to reach the bottom floor, and the silence that surrounded Claire and Allie was stifling to say the least. Standing in the lobby of what was once Nicole's high rise condo - Allie, hands stuffed in her coat pockets, chewing her lip; Claire smoking a cigarette despite the very clear 'no smoking signs' plastered to the nearby wall and tapping her foot - neither woman really wanted to speak. It was just nice not to be alone for something of this nature. Claire ashed her cigarette and spread it around on the tile floor with her shoe.

"So," she said, still looking ahead at the elevator, "there's a book?"

"That is what I've been told," Allie said, "but who knows if we'll actually find it."

"And this little book definitively ties Raymond to the crimes, exonerating Tony and ultimately giving you your freedom?" Claire asked and Allie shrugged, grimacing.

"I still killed a man, regardless of anything else," Allie said, "I think I should have to pay for that."

"Should you?" Claire asked, "I killed many people. I paid for it, for a while anyway, but incarceration is hardly the most effective form of punishment. Actual punishment can only come from the person who committed the acts they're being incarcerated for. My guilt, my shame, my regret...those are the things that leave me a different person, not being in a cell. The problem with incarceration is that, eventually, in most cases, you leave prison. But if you're your own prison, there's no escaping that. You have to live with that forever."

Allie nodded solemnly. She understood what Claire meant, and it scared her. The elevator reached the lobby and dinged, the doors sliding open, as the women walked inside. As they headed to the floor of Nicole's flat, Allie couldn't help but think about the possible outcome if they actually managed to find this book. Potential freedom. An end from a seemingly neverending nightmare. It was all so within reach now. The elevator stopped, and that's when she realized Claire had stopped it herself.

"What are you doing?" Allie asked.

"If we find this," Claire said, stubbing her cigarette out on her tongue and putting it into her shirt pocket, "I need you to promise me that you aren't leaving the city without me. You need assurance? Well so do I. We leave together, that's the deal. After that, if you wanna go your separate way, I won't stop you. I think we could do amazing things together, but I'm not going to force you into anything, outside of this I suppose. I just..."

Claire took a slow, deep breath and looked at the floor, and for the first time maybe ever since they'd met, Allie saw a brief glimpse of a human being beneath the facade that Claire always wore.

"...I need to know at least one person has my back," Claire said.

"What about Rachel? You don't trust her?" Allie asked.

"I do, and I love her deeply, but she won't come with me," Claire said, "she has her whole business here, and I wouldn't wanna uproot that. But you and me, we can get out, we can go somewhere new, start fresh. Is it a deal, Meers? If I help you find this book...that's it. We leave together."

Allie chewed on her lip and thought, anxiety coursing through her body. Finally, she nodded, knowing she had no choice. Claire smiled, reached out, and allowed the elevator to resume its ascension. The walk to Nicole's condo wasn't far down the hall, and because of the crime, it was still considered under police jurisdiction so it hadn't been cleaned - past moving her corpse of course - or rented out again. Claire pulled her lockpicking kit from her jacket pocket and got to work while Allie stood guard.

"Let me ask you a question," Allie said.

"Shoot," Claire said.

"You say you feel regret and shame and guilt, but...do you?" Allie asked, leaning against the wall and folding her arms, "or do you just feel those things about getting caught?"

Claire grinned and glanced up at her.

"You know me well," she said, "we're not that different, Meers."

"As you've said repeatedly."

"I just mean that you're more like me than you acknowledge, in your sense of self preservation," Claire said, "And I'm more like than you acknowledge, in my sense of abilities to get in and out of places like a magician."

And with that, the lock clicked, and the door swung slowly open, Claire grinning the whole time. Allie laughed and shook her head. Claire was a showman, that couldn't be denied. The women headed into the loft and shut the door behind them. Nicole's apartment was swanky, upscale, ritzy, whatever word one would want to use to describe the elite top class citizen in terms of financials, it was exactly that. And, as predicted, aside from some cleaning of blood and the stuff the agents took, it had been virtually untouched since she'd killed herself.

"Wonder why he still keeps this place," Allie mumbled.

"Maybe he's looking for it too," Claire said, shrugging, "or maybe he just comes here because he misses her. Monsters are still humans."

Allie looked at Claire as she walked past, and she felt a pang of grief in her heart for her. Was Claire a monster? It was arguable, Allie would say, but she wasn't wrong. Even the most monstrous of us have some semblance of humanity somewhere inside. She continued further in, heading into Nicole's bedroom while Claire checked the office. The bedroom was minimalist, clean, maximizing her space. A large built in wall shelf that housed a small library, a stylish dresser and a large flat screen TV hung on the wall opposite the bed with the silken sheets and the designer pillowcases. Allie bit her lip as she walked further in, Claire's words about Raymonds reasonings running through her head. Her own parents had barely ever reached out to her in the time she'd left, become famous, and had all her problems. Was Raymond, monster though he was, that capable of loving his own child more than Allie's seemingly normal parents? It made her sad. She stopped by another small shelf, upon which sat trinkets, a small jewelry box, more books and some framed photos. Allie smiled as she reached out and picked up one of the photos of Sunny and Nicole together at an amusement park, grinning like idiots in front of a ride, each holding a churro.

"I ain't finding shit," Claire said, breaking the silence and causing Allie to jump.

"Jesus, don't do that," Allie said, hand to her chest, breathing hard.

"Anything in here?" Claire asked.

"Nothing except mementos and ordinary life stuff," Allie said, her eyes fixated on Sunny; she felt her eyes sting with hot wet tears, as she added, "...I didn't mean to kill him. I didn't...I didn't think it would...oh fuck."

"Hey, Meers, hey come on," Claire said, walking up behind Allie, as Allie turned and walked to the bed, sitting down, Claire joining her. Claire cleared her throat and continued, "you were doing what you thought was right for the sake of someone elses safety. They can call you a murderer, but you're not. You didn't set out with the intent to hurt him. It wasn't premeditated by any means. Meers, I killed people. I killed a lot of people. Was it because I was off my meds? Yes. I wasn't myself. But I'd be lying if I also said I didn't enjoy it. Some people are just...wired to hurt others. To want to hurt others. You're not one of those people, Meers. We're alike, yeah, but...you're not me."

Allie had grappled with their similarities so long, denying them outright to herself, trying to rationalize it all away, but to hear Claire herself finally admit it, that despite their similarities she wasn't Claire, that made her heart feel lighter. Allie looked up from the photo at Claire, who smiled and reached out, pushing Allie's hair from her face and touching her cheek.

"I don't deserve freedom," Allie said, "I did a bad thing, and I did more bad things in order to cover it up, and I need to pay for it all. It's the only way forward."

"We're our harshest critics, give ourselves the cruelest judgements. You can't say what you deserve because you're biased, but you deserve freedom, Meers. For all that you've done, all that you've been through...you deserve to be free. Leave Vegas with me. And I'm asking from an admittedly somewhat self serving place, because I...I know that I'll never meet anyone who understands me the way you do. I don't want to lose that."

Allie smiled weakly, tears rolling down her face. She nodded, and leaned in, hugging Claire.

"That's a lot of books," Claire said, making Allie chuckle.

"I know," she replied, wiping her face on her jacket sleeve, "I know, I like to read but hell, this woman really enjoyed it."

"No no, not the book books, those books," Claire said, pointing at the large built in wall shelf. Allie pulled back and turned, looking at the very top and her eyes widened. There they were. Little black books, all lined up in a row, what looked like hundreds of them. Allie scrambled to get off the bed and jump up at the shelf, but she couldn't reach. Suddenly she felt Claire's hands on her waist, as she was hoisted up. Allie giggled and reached, pulling some down. They were numbered on the cover, and together, they sat on the floor and flipped through every single one.

"These are all just coffee reviews," Claire said, sounding exasperated.

"This is making me thirsty," Allie said, "god, I can't imagine that it would be this easy. Nothing has been this easy. There's no way the answer has just been sitting here all along, all this time. It wouldn't...it just wouldn't...make sense, like, for the cops to miss it, for the agents to not look at it."

"How good of agents do you think they are? Look at how long I've eluded them, let alone you staying one step ahead that whole time," Claire said, "you stole and fed a corpse to a tiger, Meers, right under their noses. I think you give them too much credit. You've done most of the work for them."

"I just can't imagine that she wouldn't be more careful about where she kept that kind of information, you know?"

"Meers," Claire said, interrupting, snapping her fingers.

"Like," Allie continued, ignoring her, "she struck me as a much more secretive and secure individual. Someone who would be careful."

"Meers," Claire continued, snapping louder.

"Maybe I'm a bad judge of character, I don't know, but deus ex machinas in stories always feel so cheap and that's what this feels like I'm building to, some get out of jail free card, you know what I mean? Something to absolve me of my mostly willing participation in horrific incidents and give me an at least somewhat happy ending. I don't deserve that after all the things I've done. There's just no way that-"

"Allie!" Claire finally shouted, catching her off guard by using her first name; Claire grinned as Allie finally looked at her, and she slowly turned the small book in her hands over and showed it to her, whispering, "it's here. This is it."

Allie slowly reached out and took it, holding it in her own hands before cautiously flipping through it. Her eyes scanned every word, every number. This was it. This was the proof. Tony had been right. Somehow he'd been right, and somehow Raymond hadn't known about this. Nicole had in fact left it in plain sight where nobody would suspect it. Everyone had missed it. She finally, after all this time and effort, held the answer to freedom in her hands. The end was upon her. She looked up at Claire, the both of them grinning like idiots.

"What was that you were saying, about deus ex machinas?" Claire asked.

"Eh, who cares," Allie said, "those complaints usually come from people who don't know how to write anyway."

                                                         ***

Tony couldn't believe his eyes. It was here, sitting on his desk in front of him, plain as day. He looked up from the book back at Allie, sitting across from him, drinking a soda and eating peanut m&ms. Tony looked back down, then back up at her.

"You did it, it was real, and you got it," he said, sounding flabbergasted.

"Yeah well, what can I say, making things suddenly appear is kinda my whole schtick," Allie said, making him laugh; Allie leaned forward and cleared her throat, adding, "Tony...um...I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you about everything sooner, and that...that I've been the cause of all this."

"You weren't the cause, Allie. This extortion bullshit has been going on for years. You just happened to do something that cracked it open," Tony said, "and frankly, I'm glad. I'm ready for it to be over. That man is dangerous and should have no power."

"...while we were there, I wondered, like, why he kept her apartment. Claire told me that maybe, uh, it was cause, ya know...he liked coming there. Remembering her. And it made me sad, cause he's a guy who's so villainous, and yet he can love his daughter, and...and my own father barely ever speaks to me. We haven't talked in years. I guess it just hurts to know that people that evil can still be better parents than the boring folks I grew up with."

"I've told you a million times, kid, you're the daughter I never had, and I'm proud of you," Tony said, "so what if your own dad doesn't care. I care. You're a great magician and a wonderful person, Allie, and I'm...I'm so happy you were in my life."

Allie wanted to cry. She couldn't get this stupid plastered smile off her face, and Tony couldn't either.

"So," Allie said, "what do we do with it now?"

Tony looked down at it and grinned.

"You're good at slight of hand, right?" he asked.

"Course," she replied, shrugging, "one of the first things you learn in magic. You need to be proficient at it."

"Good," Tony said, "Cause we're about to plant some evidence, baby girl. Jackson Strange doesn't know what's about to hit him."

Zoe had never felt so uncomfortable in her life.

Sitting on the plastic covered couch of this home, she couldn't help but feel incredibly out of place, but she was here with purpose, and she refused to ignore it. The woman brought her a cupcake and a cup of coffee, both of which she accepted graciously, before the woman seated herself beside her husband. Both were wearing the kind of clothing one would expect from aging out hippies. Zoe sipped her coffee, then pulled the wrapper off her cupcake and took a bite. After a moment, she finally spoke.

"I know this is sudden," she said, "um, believe me, I'm aware of how strange it is, but I just...I felt so bad, and she was my friend, and I just want to do something nice in her memory."

"We appreciate it," the woman said, crossing her legs, "really, we do. Nobody else seems to have even cared, sans her boss. We've been hurting so much since it happened, we can't even go to the graveyard. It's all just...too overwhelming. To lose something you didn't anticipate having in the first place, and then loving with such ferocity."

Zoe got a confused look on her face, so the man sighed and leaned forward, hand resting on his wifes knee.

"Raindrop wasn't...planned," he said, "hell, that can likely be said for many of the children in our community at the time they were conceived. The love was free, the contraception not so much."

Zoe laughed. Fully, heartily laughed, and it felt good. He smiled.

"But," he continued, "we loved her so deeply. She was our special little girl, and she was so talented, so skilled, so driven. Ambitious. Sure, she wound up encompassing all the very things we despised in our youth, but you know what, we'd rather her betray or morals and live a moderately comfortable life for herself than try to follow in our footsteps in a world that no longer believes in those things anyway, and be unhappy as a result. We didn't care. We were just happy she was successful. She was our daughter, and we loved her."

"I only knew her a short time, while she was working at the casino right before she was killed, but we became good friends and...and I really just want to do something that honors her memory, you know? Something that she would want someone to do in her name. Carry out, like, her final wishes or whatever," Zoe said, "but I'm not even really sure what those might be."

A lie. She knew damn well Raindrop had already gotten what she wanted...a swift exit from the situation. Away from Raymond. Away from it all. Still, Zoe wanted to do something more for her. Alan and Mary looked at one another, thinking about it momentarily, until Alda snapped his fingers and pointed at Zoe.

"You know what she really loved, I mean, at least when she was a kid, can't speak for her interest in it as an adult of course," Alan said, leaning forward and grinning now as he whispered, "she loved space."

                                                       ***

Agent Rebecca Siskel had been late getting to the office thanks to having to order her coffee three separate times, because they'd been training someone new who simply couldn't get it right. Finally having parked in the parking garage and now stepping out of her car, cup in hand, she felt exhausted and it was only 9 in the morning, a whole work day stretching before her. She started the walk to the elevator, sipping her coffee, letting the warmth bring her back to life.

"You're not gonna believe what I have to tell you," a voice said, causing her to jump and spill her coffee all over herself, which, in turn, made her scream.

"Fuck! Fuck that's hot!"

"Oh god I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you!" Allie said, stepping out of the shadows.

"Then why are you hiding like Deep Throat?!" Agent Siskel shouted back.

"I'm a magician, I just like making an entrance!" Allie replied, helping wipe her shirt down, adding, "I'll pay for cleaning, don't worry, hell I'll even buy you a new suit. But trust me when I tell you that I wasn't being hyperbolic, you really aren't going to believe what I'm about to tell you."

Agent Siskel finally finished dabbing at her clothing, with Allie's help, and stared her down. Allie couldn't tell if she was going to dismiss her or not, which was stupid, because why would they come this far and not finish it? After a few moments, Agent Siskel ran a hand through her hair, exasperated, and rolled her eyes.

"Alright, walk with me," she finally said, the two women continuing through the parking garage before getting into the elevator that led up to the main offices; Agent Siskel added, "so what is it that was so imperative that I know that you had to scare the living shit out of me?"

"Tony came to me," Allie said, "I went to my loft to get some things, and found him waiting for me, watering my plants. He told me that he is terrified of Raymond. He knows I stole the car. But here's the thing, he isn't mad. He wants to work with me, and he has, as he put it, a scapegoat, a fall guy."

Agent Siskel stopped the elevator and turned to face Allie.

"Miss Meers," she said, "I'm an agent of the law, sworn to uphold and protect it, and you're asking me to participate in the involvement of blaming everything on a seemingly innocent man. Now, normally, I'd say absolutely not, but the thing I've learned repeatedly during this investigation is that fairness, justice, isn't real. It's an illusion. My case is being buried repeatedly by red tape, thanks to Raymond having so many favors with judges in the court. Unless we hit him with so many things that he can't help but cave, there's no taking him down. He's a politician. They're untouchable."

Allie stared at this woman, a woman who, at one point, believed so deeply in her work, her ethics and morals, who had now become an embittered and cynical shell of her former self, and she smirked.

"Well then," Allie said, "I guess if justice is an illusion, it's a good thing that's my specialty, being a magician and all."

Agent Siskel stared back, and then smirked as well. She was ready to hear what Allie had to offer.

                                                      ***

Rachel St. Sebastian was sitting on the porch of the funeral home, eating her breakfast sandwich and sipping coffee when the car pulled up and parked. Rachel looked up and casually took a drag from her cigarette before ashing it on the edge of the old, brass table beside her seat and took another bite of her food. Zoe exited from the car and slowly approached the car, hands in her coat pockets initially, but as soon as she saw Rachel's posture stiffen at this, she removed her hands from her pockets and Rachel immediately changed her body language, softening.

"What are you doing here?" Rachel asked.

"I need a favor," Zoe said, "um...and it may very well be immoral, I don't know, but-"

"Yeah, cause that's stopped me before," Rachel said, interrupting, taking another drag as she looked away. Zoe seated herself on a chair beside Rachel and exhaled, hands clasped tightly on her knees.

"-I need you to dig up Raindrop and...and burn her. Put her through the cremation process. I mean, what remains of her anyway, at this point, if that's possible. Forgive me, I know nothing of the decomposition process. And before you get all legal about it, yes, her parents said it was okay, and I even got it in writing."

"Not for nothing, but it can take 10 to 15 years to fully decompose to a skeletal form, so you're right in admitting you know nothing about the decomposition process. Since it's only been a few months, she'll be, more or less, relatively the same as when we buried her. And kudos on you for getting their permission, but...I do have to wonder why you need me for that?"

"Well you're the one who buried her, and..." Zoe said, shaking her head, staring at her shoes, "look, I'm gonna level with you, the whole thing's left me so shaken up that I can barely manage day in or day out. I want to fulfill her last wishes, or what her parents thought they might be. But I can't do it alone. All of this happened because I was trying to protect a woman I care about, you of all people should recognize what that's like."

Rachel nodded slowly, taking another long drag and then a sip of coffee. She did indeed know what that was like. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and nodded again.

"We can do it, but I'll need you to tell me more about what it is we're doing with her, post cremation," Rachel said.

Zoe continued staring at the wooden slatted porch and exhaled slowly, deeply, shutting her eyes.

"We're taking her to space," she said, causing Rachel to raise an eyebrow.

                                                      ***

"Everything lines up perfectly," Allie said.

She, Agent Siskel and Agent Tropper were now seated in a private, locked room, the agents at the table as Allie paced in front of them, laying it all out bare for tem the way Tony had for her. She continued.

"Tony hired Strange as a new act," Allie said, "Strange is literally an escape artist. Now he approaches Tony claiming I'm the one who tried to rob him, I'm the one who's after him, and his supposed proof? Grainy film footage from a hidden camera HE installed in the parking lot of the casino, which we can frame as him casing the joint for years in advance. He's the perfect candidate. We give Tony the car, Tony gives it all to you guys, you take Raymond down on embezzlement charges - because wealth fraud is the only thing the courts give any shit about - and Tony and I each do a bit of time. Everyone else walks free. Jackson gets the brunt of the blame."

She stopped and looked at them. Agent Tropper was eating a hashbrown from a local fast food place. He chewed, then looked at Agent Siskel and shrugged. She sighed, sipped her new mug of coffee and set it down on the table.

"It isn't that simple, Allie," Agent Siskel said, "It's just one groups word against another. We still need proof. We still need proof of everything. We have a bunch of doctored papers that Nicole kept for her father, records and such, but...we need the smoking gun. We need numbers. These papers, they're just...they're receipts and stuff, links to questionable banks and sources and funds. We need a detailed account record. Without that, it's just...heresay."

Allie groaned and sat down across from them. She put her head on the table and stared at the wood grain. Why was it always so difficult. Why, just once, couldn't everything work out in her favor. All she was trying to do, at this point, was spare her friends any more hardship, make things right. She thought about Sunny. About that night in her loft, the night that started all of this, when she killed him. She grimaced.

"All I've been trying to do this entire time is protect someone," Allie mumbled, "protect someone who only wanted to work with me. I didn't want to see her get sucked into the same bullshit lifestyle I got sucked into. But...the thing is...I think even that's sort of an excuse, cause she was never as damaged as me. She never would've fallen victim to it. I think I just saw enough of myself, or who I could've been had I been a healthier person, in her that I was scared she'd also succumb to this cities ills."

Allie finally looked up at the agents again.

"And if we can get that one vital piece of information?" Allie asked.

"Then we're golden, but we've cleaned house, there's nothing left at Nicole's," Agent Siskel said, shrugging, "I'm sorry, Allie. Tony's plan is good, but without that crucial thing that ties it all together...that irrefutable proof...we have nothing, as always."

She'd tried so hard, she'd gotten so far, and repeatedly had the end snatched away from her. Allie wanted to disappear. Thankfully, that was another thing magicians were good at.

                                                        ***

Zoe and Rachel were seated in the main viewing station of the local planetarium.

Nobody else was there, and they had the dome to themselves, an urn sitting between Zoe's legs. The star screen overhead slowly rolled by, both women staring at it intently, each lost in deep thought about something. Zoe finally broke her concentration and looked down at the urn when she heard the sound of a lighter being flicked, and looked to see Rachel lighting a cigarette. Zoe smirked.

"They really do allow smoking anywhere in this city," Zoe said, "thank you for helping me."

"I get it," Rachel said, not looking at her, "I get you. I get what it's like to want to do the right thing, especially for a woman you care so much about."

"I didn't really know her that well, I just-"

"Not her," Rachel said, shaking her head, "no. Allie. That's why you've done anything you've done, right? I get that. To love someone so deeply, be it platonic or not, that you'd be willing to do anything for them...even if it means sidelining your own best interests and well being. Only difference is, I think, Allie genuinely cares about you. I don't think Claire cares about me. Not in the way I want, or need. We're not that different, Zoe. Not at all."

Zoe looked at Rachel, tapping her cigarette on the arm of the chair, ashing it to the floor where she smeared it around with her shoe.

"We just want to be appreciated and loved," she continued, "like anyone does. You're a good person. I like to think I am, but I can't be certain. You can't call yourself a good person, that's the thing, because that's egotistical, narcissism. You have to have that goodness verified by outside sources. So I'm verifying yours right now, Zoe. You...are a good person. You gave this woman information for the right reasons, because, from the way you explained it to me, you saw someone else like us who wanted out from under the boot of an owner. You felt guilty about her death, so what did you do? You didn't hide it. You didn't run away. You approached that guilt head on by going to her parents and asking them point blank what could be done to make her memory stronger. Zoe," Rachel said, turning and taking Zoe's hands in her own, her eyes wet with tears, "you...are a good person."

Zoe bit her lip. Her entire time in Vegas, working with Allie, all of this...she'd struggled so much with that very question of her morality, and whether or not it even existed. Now here was a woman, a woman who'd helped another woman - much like herself - hide bodies in walls tell her outright she was, in fact, good. Zoe started to cry, and Rachel pulled her in for a hug. Rachel wasn't typically the sentimental type, but she was so tired, so very very tired, from dealing with everything, with Claire, and it'd finally broken through her walls. Rachel St. Sebastian squeezed this poor young girl as tight as she possibly could, and when she finally pulled apart, she held Zoe's hands and she smiled warmly.

"Let's do this. Let's send her to space," she whispered, and Zoe nodded.

Zoe stood up and they undid the screw lid on the urn, then they carefully tipped the urn into their cupped hands and started tossing Raindrop's ashes all over the auditorium. Here she would, forever, amongst the planets and the constellations and the galaxies. From nothing she came, to nothing she returned, stardust once more. But at least she'd be remembered.

                                                        ***

Allie entered her loft, exhausted. She slowly pulled her jacket off and dropped it on the floor when she noticed Tony, still here, looking through a photo album. He smiled as he watched her approach, and then patted the spot on the couch beside him. She smiled weakly, and took her seat, laying her head on his shoulder.

"Are you looking at my photos?" she asked.

"I like to see where you came from, before I found you," Tony said, "Allie I built this casino, this business, but you helped cement it with your stage work. I like to see where you started. You don't seem like a very happy child in most of these."

"Not sure why I even keep reminders of an adolescence I ran so far away from around," Allie replied shrugging.

"I think cause it helps contextualize our present. A sort of 'look how far I've gotten' mentality, you know?" Tony asked, "I'm proud of you, I hope you know that. You put this place on the map of the city with your act, you survived a tiger attack, you got sober. I'm so fucking proud of you, kid."

Allie looked up at him and she realized he wasn't just saying this. He really meant it. Sure, they'd drifted a bit apart since all of this started, but in the end, he really did love her. He really had been more of a father to her than her own ever was. Allie closed her eyes and nuzzled against him more, and he rubbed her back, holding her close. It was a moment of quiet reflection, of solidarity. Rufus had been right after all. Tony had never tried to implicate her, or anything of the sort, he'd done the exact opposite...protect her, at all costs. She'd gotten herself involved, albeit accidentally, of her own accord. What a fucked up pseudo father daughter bonding experience this turned out to be.

"How did it go?" Tony asked.

"Not good. I mean, they liked the plan, but they said without a bullet proof key piece of evidence, something that really is iron clad about his knowingly financial involvement, that he's untouchable," Allie said, sighing, feeling herself start to fall asleep; she yawned, then added, "I think we're done, Tony. I can't do any more."

He looked at the photos in the album on his lap. A photo of Allie in her magician costume as a teenage girl. This adorable little girl, the daughter he'd always seen her for, the talent he'd long since appreciated and admired, and he couldn't...he just couldn't let her go down for a man she had never even been directly involved with.

"What's that phrase magicians use?" Tony finally asked, "there's nothing up my sleeve? Well I still got one trick up my sleeve."

"Yeah, what's that?" Allie asked, half laughing, half asleep.

"...Nicole has a book," Tony said, and Allie's eyes slowly opened as she looked upwards at him, and he down at her. That had woken her back up.

Tony was standing in the elevator as it slowly lurched up towards the main suite.

Hands in his pockets, fingers fidgeting with fabrics, he couldn't help but think about all the things that Jackson Strange had told him. He bit his lip so hard that it bled, but he didn't even notice. Allie. No. She just couldn't...she wouldn't...would she? She wasn't the type, and after all he'd done for her, why would she turn heel on him like this? The elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open, as a man in a suit welcomed him to the floor, then led him down the hall and towards a room. Once they reached that door, and the man opened, Tony entered, only to witness Raymond Sykes picking his mug of coffee up off his desk and turn to smile upon seeing him.

"Tony!" he said, "Come in, thank you for coming on such short notice!"

Tony approached, anxious, nervous, his guts doing somersaults. Raymond motioned with his hand to a nice chair.

"Please, have a seat," he said jovially, to which Tony obliged. Raymond lifted the mug to his lips and took a sip, then exhaled, shaking his head slightly as he said, "you know, coffee used to be this thing I drank with my daughter. In fact, she's the one who got me hooked. Back when she was in high school, she started drinking coffee in order to stay focused, maintain a good GPA. I thought it was unhealthy, and, in fact, I even said as much. Didn't want her wearing herself ragged purely for academic purposes. But then we started getting coffee together, and it became this bonding thing."

Raymond leaned against his desk and crossed his legs, taking another long sip. He looked in his mug and an almost sorrowful expression crossed his face, the first time Tony had ever seen Raymond portray anything remotely close to a human emotion.

"We would go to various coffee shops," he continued, "we would order different things, see which places we liked best, which drinks we preferred. Hell, we even had little notebooks that contained our ratings and stuff on them. That's partially why she wound up as an accountant, you know? I don't know how much you know about the history of accounting, but the earliest known print use was in a 1975 Forbes article that stated 'this bean counter is the first executive to come up with a way of measuring trade offs'. After this, business writing started using it as a way to criticize people who were seen as overly focused on cost rather than things like creativity. The whole idea played on the concept of counting beans, a cheap, simple commodity, as a metaphor for tedious penny pinching work, which, well, let's face it, and we can both admit this as businessmen, that's accounting."

Raymond and Tony laughed together, and for the first time since Tony entered the building, his shoulders released their tension, his muscles relaxed, he felt more at peace. Maybe this would all be a good thing in the end after all.

"But she loved it. She loved the precision, you know? Of being the one who kept everything in check. But, as delicious as coffee is, its industry is rather exploitative. You know much about the coffee industry Tony?"

Tony shook his head and shrugged, "can't say that I do," he mumbled.

"Well," Raymond continued, "for starters, many of the farmers live below the poverty line. When global prices drop, the income they receive is sometimes lower than the actual cost of production. As a result, they only actually receive about five to ten percent of the retail price of a cup sold in wealthier countries. And it doesn't just stop at financial disparity, you know? It's all encompassing, this...this economic poisoning of the industry. Take their labor, for instance. Season workers are underpaid, housed in poor conditions, or sometimes not even formally contracted. Meanwhile the industry as a whole is dominated by a handful of multinational corporations, while millions of small farmers have very little bargaining power, meaning that middlemen and exporters capture much of that value for themselves, leaving these farmers dependent on volatile commodity markets."

Raymond put his mug down on the table with a thud, causing Tony's heart to start racing again. Raymond looked at his well maintained hands and smirked.

"You provide me with money so that I continue to stay in power so that you continue to benefit from me staying in power, you are, in essence, my coffee farmer, but you're treated far better than they are, wouldn't you say? You certainly don't live in poverty," Raymond said.

"Damn straight," Tony said, nodding, trying to grin.

"But anyone below the top dog is inherently greedy. That's the problem with capitalism isn't it? Anyone who isn't at the top is constantly clawing to be at the top, threatening your livelihood. That's the problem with the coffee industry, Tony. The global coffee industry is structurally exploitative because the wealth is concentrated in consuming countries and corporations, while the producers bear the highest risk and the lowest rewards," Raymond said, strolling towards Tony and kneeling down, their eyes level, his voice now a low rumble, "...I'm the corporation, and you...are the producer. And what happens when the producer tries to cut off the means of production?"

A man entered the room, and Tony glanced over his shoulder at him before Raymond grabbed him by the jaw and forced him to look back in his eyes.

"I asked you a goddamn question, don't look away from me," Raymond snarled quietly, Tony now visibly shaking.

"I...I uh...what...what happens?" Tony asked.

"Often times they're let go, aren't they? Replaced by someone who will do the job, no questions asked, no trouble raised. But, and here's where you get lucky, I like you, Tony, we're friends. And we work in tandem. I can't spend my time building up that kind of trust with someone new, that takes years, so you're going to work with me, okay? Because if not..."

The man handed Raymond a pair of small bolt cutters, which he took while the man grabbed and held Tony's arm on the arm of the chair, Tony breathing hard and fast as Raymond placed Tony's right index finger between the cutter blades.

"...I won't be the only one missing digits," Raymond said, before making the cut.

                                                        ***

"You look like shit," Salem said as Benny held the door open for him to pass through.

"Thanks, I do try my best," Benny replied, the men chuckling, "please, come into my home and insult me some more."

Salem laughed more as he entered fully, Benny closing the door behind him. Salem turned his sights to Molly, who was in the kitchen, making tea. She didn't even look at him. Salem continued through to the living room, hands in his pockets, nodding as he took in the architecture of the loft.

"Cool place," he said.

"It does the job," Benny replied, "I'm gonna...well, not walk to the bathroom, more like hobble, but you get the idea, and then when I come back, we'll discuss the car."

"Right," Salem said, sitting down on the couch as Molly walked over with a mug of tea, sipping it carefully as she stopped and stood in front of Salem, looking down at him. His hands were clasped between his knees, somewhat spread apart, and he jumped a little when he finally noticed her presence. He grinned, saying, "Hi, you doing okay?"

"You have it in a safe place?" she asked, sipping carefully, slowly.

"Yeah, it's hidden, don't worry," Salem said, "why?"

"Because when this is all over, I'm taking Benny and Olivia and we're leaving Las Vegas for good. So you better damn well make sure nothing happens to that car, because it is our golden ticket out of this mess. Please don't take anything else away from us, we've lost so much already."

Salem nodded solemnly. Molly spoke like a woman who was done with everything. The tone of her voice, the cadence of her speech, this was a woman who was finished. She wasn't close to being finished, no, she was finished already, and was now waiting for everyone else to catch up so she could move on. Benny reappeared from the bathroom and walked back over to the couch as he kissed Molly on the cheek while she passed by him. Benny sat down beside Salem and exhaled.

"Lemme tell ya, peeing, while on crutches? It's hard," Benny said, making Salem chuckle before asking, "so, where is it?"

"Currently it's sitting in a private garage that's owned by a friend of mine who runs a pawn shop," Salem said, "I used to perform at her shop sometimes to get eyes on the place, so it wasn't hard to call in a favor, and don't worry, I didn't explain shit to her. I just told her I need her to hold onto a car I'd used in a performance for a bit."

"Good, the less anyone else knows the better," Benny said, "what do we do with it? Do we just...turn it over to authorities? The agents?"

"That would be my guess," Salem replied, shrugging, "but that's something Allie needs to do, wherever the hell she is."

Benny grunted. He didn't know. Nobody really seemed to. Ever since the incident, she'd cropped up a few times, mostly to check on him and Molly, but even then those visits were brief, and most of them had taken place over the phone. Otherwise she'd been in hiding, and while he understood why, he also thought it was cowardly. But, maybe, he hoped, he was wrong. Maybe she was cooking up a final plan, one last grand trick to get them out of all of this. She was a magician after all, called herself astounding even. He just hoped she'd live up to her moniker in the end.

                                                         ***

Allie was sitting at the kitchen island, coffee mug shaking in her hands. She looked up across it at Jenny, standing across from her, still in her sleepwear, little shorts and a tank top. Allie, just as quickly, looked away. She had a hard time looking at herself since the heist. Jenny had made her food, a sandwich, lovingly crafted, and it was just sitting on the island in front of her on a plate, but Allie hadn't touched it yet. Her appetite had been near non-existent for days. She finally closed her eyes and hung her head, before feeling the warmth of Jenny's hands cupped around her own, and she glanced back up, looking into her eyes.

"You're okay, just take a breath with me okay?" Jenny asked, and Allie nodded.

The two then took a slow inhale, and held it briefly before exhaling. They did this a few times before Allie finally managed to crack a smile and the two locked eyes again. Jenny's eyes were the only thing that weren't Allie's, it was how Allie managed to differentiate themselves from one another, and it was the place Allie liked to look currently when she was forced to look Jenny in the face.

"You know you can talk to me," Jenny said, her voice so warm, soft, quiet.

"I know," Allie finally said, "I'm just scared. Everyone has a target on me. I feel like one of those carnival ducks, ya know? The ones on the rails that just go back and forth that everyone guns for, and eventually somebody's gonna get the shot. How long can you realistically avoid the ramifications of your actions?"

"Ask war criminals, or politicians," Jenny said, making Allie chuckle.

"Yeah but I don't have access to their level of wealth or power," Allie said, "you're the only one who doesn't hate me. Zoe is mad that I got her into the mess I got her into, Molly and Benny got shot because of me, Nick is furious at me for not being able to get sober while I was with him, and Claire...Claire doesn't hate me, but...but I also don't trust that she has my best interests at heart."

"She saved you," Jenny said, "she shot a woman in the head in order to save you."

"I'm a means to an end for her, if I go down, she goes down," Allie said, "I don't doubt she cares about me, but it's hard to know how genuine those feelings actually are. I don't know. I just feel like you're all I've got, and I guess I've never really showed my appreciation for you and that doesn't seem fair. Thank you, Jenny, for always having my back regardless of anything."

Jenny blushed and leaned in, kissing Allie on the forehead. Despite her admission, Allie still couldn't deny that she didn't love Jenny romantically. It was all superficial, all love for herself, because Jenny's face was Allie's, and Allie, in the end, loved herself so much that she couldn't help but be with a version of herself that was relatively untainted. Jenny went back to the stove and started making herself scrambled eggs, Allie still sitting at the island, sipping from her mug, her hands steady and firm now. But...this just made her exactly like Claire, didn't it? Using Jenny the same way Claire used Rachel, in the sense of utilizing her worship and devotion as a means to ground herself. Justify her actions.

Claire.

Allie and Claire had had sparse communication since the shooting, but one phone call in particular had stood out, and that was one that happened about a month and a half after it had happened. It was about 3am, and Allie hadn't been sleeping, so when the phone started ringing, she wasn't startled awake or anything of the sort, though it did catch her somewhat off guard. No good news ever arrives by phone at that time of night. Still, she picked it up, only to hear Claire's voice on the other end.

"Allie," Claire said, "I'm sorry it's been so long. Don't speak, you don't have to say a word, this is more of a voice mail and less of a phone call. I just want you to know one thing. I'm ready to leave town. I'm ready to get out of here. So when this is all over, you and me, let's do it, okay? Let me know what you think after you've had some time to debate about it. Together, Meers, you and I can do anything."

And with that the line went dead, and Allie's blood ran cold. Could do anything. Yes, she thought, Claire could do anything, and that's what fucking terrified her.

                                                        ***

Zoe was standing over the headstone, as she'd been doing for a while.

She'd get flowers, she'd bring them here and she'd stand for a little bit. Nobody knew she did this, not Allie nor Effie, nobody. Zoe stood there, umbrella over her head, her other hand in her coat pocket, just listening to the rain, the sound of distant thunder. Zoe had never really been one for cemeteries, and she didn't understand why she'd been coming here so frequently, why this was bothering her so much...perhaps it was simply because she had seen Raindrop as someone in a similar position as herself. Someone she could sort of relate to. Someone who, really, just wanted out. Sloshing of shoes on wet ground, as someone sidled on up beside her, the dim glow of a cigarette just out of her peripheral view.

"It's nice you come by," Rachel St. Sebastian said, "nobody else does."

"...it just feels unfair," Zoe said, "and I feel so responsible. I told her what was happening. I'm why it happened. I'm why she went down there, why Molly and Benny got shot, why she ended up here. All she wanted was to be free of Raymond. She was me."

Rachel sideyed Zoe and just listened as Zoe took a long breath and continued.

"I can't take the guilt," Zoe said, her voice cracking, shaky, "I'm planning a wedding, and she's dead. Where's the goddamned justice in that. I've done terrible things in the name of an other."

"So have I," Rachel replied, shrugging, "it's what you do when you love someone enough. At least that's how I attempt to make sense of my actions. But the truth is, eventually, it breaks you. No matter how much you love someone, want to see them happy, if you don't stop them from using you, their self destructive behavior will become your own downfall. I'm on a leash, but I don't bite the one leading me because I'm too afraid of what freedom may taste like. I can't tell you what choice is right for you, but either way, you'll have to make a decision or it'll be made for you. I still find it admirable though, that you come. Nobody else does. Not even her family."

Zoe looked at Rachel and watched as she took a drag, curls of smoke wafting into the air and rain. Zoe nodded slowly. She understood. She understood Rachel was right. And Allie didn't use Zoe, Allie really did care about her, but at what point was freedom actually freedom? When could she truly stop looking over her shoulder? To what lengths would Allie go to ensure her longevity? Zoe didn't know. But she did know one thing. She might be like Raindrop. She might be like Rachel. Be involved in things she didn't want to be, be used by someone who was making her a tool of sorts...

...but the thing was, Allie wasn't Claire.

And that was all the proof Zoe needed to know it would at least, if nothing else, end as well as it could.

                                                     ***

Allie had snuck back to the casino, needing to get into her loft to get a few items. It had been a while since she'd been in here, opting instead to hide out at Jenny's. The key turned in the lock, and that's when she realized it was already unlocked. Allie furrowed her brow, held the knob and pushed the door open. As she walked inside cautiously, she heard the sound of water, and when she turned the corner, peering into the main living area, that's when she saw him, Tony. He was here, watering her plants of all things.

"...so now you're my gardener?" she asked, and he jumped a little, hand to his chest. She noticed the bandage wrapped around it, and wondered what had made that happen.

"Christ, you scared me," he said, grinning, "well, you haven't been around, so I've been tending to your plants. I don't think it's fair for them to die just because of your absence. You aren't meaning to hurt anyone, I know, it isn't intentional or malicious."

This statement made Allie tense up, as Tony walked to the sink, filled the watering can back up and then placed it gently between the plant pots on the brass multi tiered shelf she kept her plants on before wiping his hands on his pants and finally fully turning to face her, smiling softly.

"Allie," he said, "I need to ask you two questions...I've taken care of you, you're like my daughter. I know that, in the last year or so we've been so busy that we've kind of lost that closeness, but that's never stopped me from feeling that way. Your success makes me immeasurably happy, and not because it brings me success, but because it's yours. Well deserved too, might I add, you're so damn good at what you do. But I need to ask you two questions. The first is did you steal my car."

Allie stood there, uncertain of how to respond. One way or another could lead to alternate paths, and she didn't even know what the second question was yet.

"Allie," Tony continued, clearing his throat, as if he were trying not to cry, "Allie I don't want to see you go to jail. And that isn't a threat. I'm telling you I will make sure it doesn't happen. But I need you to be honest with me, I need us to work together. Now did you steal my car?"

"Yeah," Allie replied, her voice low, nodding, "yeah I did."

"Okay. We'll have to discuss why later. But first I have the second question-"

"What happened to your hand, Tony? Was that from Raymond?"

This took Tony by surprise. His eyebrows raised, his breathing quickened.

"He did that to you, didn't he? Just like he worked that poor girl to death, just like he had his own adopted daughter doctor all his books. He cut your finger off, didn't he?" Allie asked, as Tony started to sniffle, raising his hand to his face and looking at it, his eyes wet with tears.

"Allie," he said, "my second question is...what do you know about Jackson Strange?"

Allie certainly didn't anticipate that one.

"Uh," she said, wiping her eyes quickly with her sweatshirt sleeve, adding, "um, quite a bit, why?"

"Because I think," Tony said, "I think I found a scapegoat."

Tony Ephram was sitting in a bar. An honest to god bar, somewhere he never foresaw himself being in again since he owned the nicest casinos with the nicest bars possible. Why would he spend his time in some dingy dive such as this one? But the call he'd gotten, the one about needing to talk, asked if they could meet here, perhaps for the sake of further anonymity? He wasn't sure. He lifted his drink and took a long sip of his drink before looking at the large ruby ring on his index finger, something he'd bought for himself when he made his first million. Rubies had always been his favorite stones, and he figured he deserved something nice for all his hard work. His mind wandered back to the last few months. A heist. A murder. The hell had happened to his business.

"Tony," a voice said, a voice he recognized instantly. Tony turned to see someone sitting in a wheelchair, in the shadows, a large hat covering their face, wearing a large trenchcoat.

"...why are you dressed like a noire detective?" Tony asked, almost suppressing a smile.

"You won't be laughing when I tell you what I'm about to tell you," the man said, wheeling himself closer, tipping his hat up to reveal his face, not that Tony needed the visual to know his converser; they added, "because I'm about to help you. A few months back, I was involved in an accident. Lost use of my legs permanently. All because of a girl."

"I've had women break my heart, never my legs. Not that some haven't made the threat," Tony said.

"I don't know her name, but I know her face," the man continued, "and I know from grainy video footage that caught her outside your casino the night of the heist that she's friends with someone you employ."

That got Tony's attention. He now turned fully on his barstool and looked at him sternly.

"...the hell are you talking about?" Tony asked.

"You need to keep an eye on Allie Meers," the man said, lighting a cigarette, the light illuminating his face. He inhaled, then exhaled, his face covered in stubble but not the kind of carefully curated stubble that a man gives himself in such a way to be appealing, more the kind that comes from a man too depressed to shave. Of all the things that had been dealt with throughout this ordeal, all the loose ends that had somehow been taken care of one way or another, all the people caught in the crossfire, this was the one who would be a problem.

Jackson fucking Strange.

                                                        ***

The sound of the coffee machine stirred Molly from her stupor.

She groaned, leaned on her cane and started filling two mugs. She then carried these carefully by the handles back to her living room, where Benny was laying on the couch. She carefully, quietly, set one down beside him and then seated herself in the loveseat next to the couch, sipping her own. The last few months had been a special kind of hell, and Molly had so much she wanted to say to Allie, but was unsure of how to do so. Benny rolled over in his sleep onto his side, now facing Molly, and grimaced. He opened one eye and put his hand to his side, exhaling.

"Hurting?" Molly asked quietly.

"I need...something," Benny mumbled.

Molly got up and headed to the bathroom to retrieve some painkillers they'd both been prescribed. They'd both taken pretty bad, but survivable, hits and now were taking turns taking care of one another. Truth be told, it wasn't ideal, but this was how things had shaken out. Sometimes Allie came over, helped out, but generally they were either on their own or with Olivia when she had the time. Molly got two pills and then shut the medicine cabinet, catching sight of her face in it and surprising herself. She didn't even look the way she remembered, even just a year ago. Had dealing with Allie and all her bullshit really aged her this much? She shook her head and returned to the living room, giving Benny his pills, which he quickly took with his coffee.

"I'm so mad at her," Molly whispered.

"You have every right to be," Benny muttered, grimacing more but this time from the heat of the coffee moreso than the pain' he set his mug back down and continued, "whether anyone wants to admit it or not, what happened, everything, has been her fault, all the way back to the beginning."

"I mean, is it though? It's not her fault her boss is involved in shady dealings with the governor, and she just happened to stumble into that. Hell, the more I think about it, the more I realize what she's been trying to do this whole time has been noble, but-"

"You can be noble and still be a fuck up," Benny said, "just that nobody wants to be the one to villainize nobility. It's like finding moral shades of grey in heroism. We want these things to be pure as driven snow but things are far often more complicated than that. You of all people should recognize that. That's like saying what Claire did had a shred of good natured to them, despite her monstrous actions."

"I'd never make that claim," Molly said, chuckling, "but I suppose you're right."

A somber hush fell over the room as they each didn't know how to continue the conversation. After a few minutes, Benny sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"You know this can't continue, right? We have to cut her off," he said, and Molly nodded; he added, "she almost got us killed."

"I know."

And she did know. And she did agree. How much longer could she realistically entertain Allie's wild ambitions of grandeur? Of revenge? The two locked eyes, but didn't speak again. They didn't really need to. The silence said enough as it was.

                                                         ***

"Every single day I see people brought in in need of burial preparation," Rachel St. Sebastian said, "and every single day I do my job. I don't question it. I just do it. I can't let things like mortality or whatever get to me, I just can't. I have to internalize all my feelings about death, because otherwise the work is simply too morbid. But what that does is it leaves me with a gaping maw, a void, in my ethics, because if I'm capable of ignoring the brutalities of the world, what else am I capable of ignoring for the sake of my own well being?"

A pause. She pulled a cigarette case from her purse, along with a lighter, then paused as she glanced up at her therapist.

"Is it okay to smoke in here?" she asked.

"We are in Vegas, so," her therapist remarked, making her smirk as she lit it up and took a few long drags.

"I'm conflicted. I love the work that I do. Giving a face to the faceless. Preserving the memory of someone who might otherwise be misremembered. But then sometimes...a young woman came through my morgue recently. A single gunshot right between the eyes. Execution style killing, as it's known. A lawyer. Worked for the governor."

"Wow, your clientele is rather elite," her therapist said.

"Elite and cold hearted. Her family requested a closed casket, quick burial, but he wanted an open casket. Said he wanted to see who would come to see her," Rachel St. Sebastian said, "for what fucking reason god knows why but he did. Maybe to see if her killer would turn up, a sort of 'reliving the crime' situation as the police like to say on procedurals. Thankfully, regardless of your political standing, blood takes precedent and her family won out, but still."

"They...don't know who the killer is? No bullet in the head to turn over to forensics turned up in your preparation of her body?" her therapist asked, a tad confused, as she shook her head in response.

"No," Rachel St. Sebastian replied, blowing smoke, "no, no bullet, must've gone clean through. Was never found."

A lie. Everything was a lie. Her stomach churned. More turning up her nose at morality for the sake of her continued freedom. She had the bullet. She simply hadn't turned it in, because she knew exactly who it belonged to, and she wasn't about to risk having the woman she loved carted off yet again, especially if it meant her continued existence in this world hinged on Claire's freedom. Despite this act of devotion, loyalty, Claire hadn't been seen in weeks. Hadn't even contacted her. Course, this was just more proof positive she'd been the one to pull the trigger.

"What do we do with the dead?" Rachel St. Sebastian asked, "we clean them, we mourn them, we bury them. And along with them any secrets they may have held. I know I sound cryptic, but it's the truth. So many people go to the grave holding onto truths that only they will ever know. Murders not admitted to, secret families never known, hidden lovers and tucked away abuse for the sake of the family. How many fathers died not being outed as the monsters they were simply so the family could enjoy a good wake? Far too many if you ask me."

"You sound as though you're speaking from experience," her therapist said, causing Rachel St. Sebastian to shrug.

"Whether I am or not doesn't matter, cause it's still the reality of the world," she said, "you know, when I was younger, I was never spiritual exactly but I was interested in Wicca, and in Wicca there's this thing called the Threefold Law. In essence, it's a religious tenet stating that any energy or intent, good or negative, a person puts out into the world will be returned to them three times over. The energy returns with three times the force or strength."

"And you...don't believe in this anymore?" her therapist asked as she ashed her cigarette onto her skirt.

"Look at the world. Look at what people manage to get away with on a daily basis, people in power, people not in power. How can I believe in such a concept when people keep getting off scott free," she said softly, watching the rain drip off the leaves outside his office window.

Claire. Her thoughts were consumed by Claire.

Eventually, she knew, she had to pay for her sins.

                                                      ***

Zoe was sitting at Effie's kitchen table, going over various spreads featuring flower arrangements and table settings when Effie entered the room, eating a sandwich she'd just finished making in the kitchen. Zoe exhaled and ran her hands over her face, leaning back into the couch. Effie chuckled.

"A little overwhelming isn't it?" she asked.

"There's SO many things to consider," Zoe said, "I guess I never thought I'd actually get married, so I never really thought about all the aspects that go into it. We have to curate an entire menu for god sakes, right down to the sensitivity of peoples food allergies!"

"Well we don't want someone dying at our wedding, it's bad luck," Effie said while chewing, causing Zoe to slowly glance at her as she quietly added, "...also, you know, sad, cause they'd be dead."

The two girls laughed as Effie finished her sandwich and plopped herself down onto the couch, rubbing Zoe's shoulder.

"Listen," Effie continued, "if it's too much, we can hire someone to do all of this for us. I mean, the personal touch is nice and all, but if you start feeling you're getting overwhelmed or anything, you know-"

"No, I...I wanna do this," Zoe said, "it's taking my mind off a million other things, and besides, as you said, the personal touch is nice."

"Have you been looking at dresses yet?" Effie asked, and Zoe blushed.

"I'm honestly a little intimidated and a tad, uh...hesitant, as I've never really liked the way I look in dresses, so I don't know what will look good," Zoe said.

"Anything you pick will be beautiful just cause it's on you," Effie remarked, leaning in and kissing Zoe on the cheek before patting her on the back and saying she had to run off to a network meeting. As she exited, tugging her coat on, Zoe went back to thumbing through catalogues and various brochures, pamphlets, leaflets, you name it, all the while her mind doing its best to focus on this and not the fact that she hadn't heard from Allie in over a week. Allie hadn't been at the penthouse, she hadn't called, texted or e-mailed. Zoe had no idea where she was. And, in a way, she felt a sense of relief as a result. Her life was simple without her. Drama free. And she felt guilty about that. Allie was her best friend, and her business partner, and yet here she was basking in the glory of her absence, her self imposed exile. But it was a well known fact between the both of them that before they'd met, Zoe's life had been, well...not great, but at least not what it was now in terms of legal issues.

She figured Allie was hiding out somewhere, keeping a low profile. After all, she'd broken - in the weakest sense of the word considering she'd been let in with a key - into the hidden vault of a casino and been partially responsible for the shooting of two friends and the death of another person. Made sense to lay low. Maybe even doing so at the agents request until they could gather more information. No. Zoe couldn't theorize. She couldn't let her brain lead her down an endless path of questions. She had a wedding to plan.

And no Astounding Allie was going to make that disappear.

                                                        ***

"The hell are you talking about?" Tony asked.

He and Jackson had since gotten a booth in the back of the bar, hidden away from everyone.

"The woman who put me in this wheelchair, she's friends, or at least accquaintances, with Allie Meers, your resident magician. I don't know the womans name, but I could just make out enough of her facial features to know that it's her on the tape, and Allie, well, she's recognizable everywhere. S'what happens when you wind with a million billboards plastered with your likeness."

"I don't understand, you talk about grainy video footage, but...but they blacked out all the cameras on the way in, and none of the ones outside caught 'em either. How do you have footage?"

"Because I set the camera up," Jackson said, taking Tony by surprise; Jackson smiled, "please, you're not worth that much to me. It was from when I was first starting out, really, and I was trying to capture footage of my work so I could analyze it, see what I was doing wrong. I did a million impromptu street shows, often in parking lots, adjacent to big casinos so that people would think I was working at them. They didn't see this one."

Tony couldn't believe his ears. Someone actually had footage of the situation? Well, no. His mind slowed back to logic. Someone had footage of a woman who had hurt this man, talking to Allie, on the night of the heist. It didn't really prove anything. Besides, he'd known Allie for years, he was the one who discovered her, she'd been to his house, interacted with his family, she was like a daughter to him in many ways. Hell, she got sober for the sake of her career and his business. She wouldn't hurt him.

"...You say you know her face but you don't know her name, you never once thought to just...ask?" Tony asked, causing Jackson to laugh.

"I admit some oversight on my part in that regard, yeah, but when a woman as goddamn attractive as she was approaches you, your brain kinda goes stupid," Jackson replied, "we went to dinner, we met multiple times, I talked to her in depth about my magic, my career, and yet the idea of simply asking her name escaped me completely. Pretty girls can make men do stupid things."

"You ain't wrong there," Tony said, shaking his head as he sipped his drink, before exhaling and asking, "so what is it you want from me exactly?"

"That's the great thing, I don't want anything," Jackson said, "I can't really do the kind of magic I once did, I was an escape artist, what am I gonna escape from, this chair? The restrictions of an able bodied society? Please. No, I don't want anything."

"Then why offer up such potentially important information?" Tony asked.

"Because I lost everything," Jackson said, almost growling now, sneering, "and I want the same to happen to Allie Meers."

Allie was standing in Jenny's kitchen, having coffee at her counter, while Jenny sat at the kitchen table and sipped her own cup. Allie was staring nervously ahead at the fridge, taking in all the magnets and various snapshots of Jenny's life that she had posted up there for the world to see. All of this, of course, wasn't exactly a decision spurred by her curiosity to know Jenny any better, as much as it was a way to distract herself from the day ahead of her. After a bit of quiet, she looked towards Jenny, who just smiled at her.

"Are you doing okay? You seem...particularly zoned out this morning," Jenny said.

"I'm alright," Allie replied, "yeah, I'm just...thinking about what I've got to do today."

Allie walked across the kitchen and seated herself opposite Jenny at the table, taking another few minutes to drink coffee, let it warm her up. She rarely drank coffee, but today she felt like she was going to need the extra energy. As they sat in momentary silence, Allie thought back to the photos hung on the fridge, and wondered if Jenny even still knew any of those people. Allie certainly didn't recognize them, and they were all photos taken before the accident, years before, when Jenny was much younger. Did Jenny still have these people in her life and if not, when did they leave? Would it happen to Allie too? Would she one day simply be nothing more than a photographic memento on somebody's fridge without actively being in their life anymore? The thought scared her. She finally looked up from her mug at Jenny, who smiled at her.

"Busy day ahead of you?" Jenny asked.

"You have no idea," Allie mumbled.

                                                                             ***

"What does one wear to a heist?" Benny asked, "is it a formal occasion?"

"You ask like I do this on a regular occasion, this is my first one," Molly responded.

She and Benny were in the bedroom getting dressed as Olivia was in the attached bathroom doing her makeup. A knock rang out from the front door and Olivia went to answer as she started putting in her earrings. As she passed by and into the living room, Molly turned and watched, then glanced at Benny.

"Is it normal to be scared right now?" she asked.

"I'd say it'd be weird if you weren't," Benny replied, "but hey, we designed this thing together, we know the ins and outs, we have a distraction set up, everything will go smoothly okay? Trust me. Do you trust me?"

Benny took her hands in his and pulled them to his face, kissing them softly, making her blush. She nodded quietly, acknowledging that, yeah, she did. In fact, she probably trusted him more than anyone else in the world these days. Nobody had ever been so respectful, understanding, compassionate. Allie - and by some extension Zoe - had lied to her, and they were friends, sure, but that came with a big asterisk attached to it now after the shitshow they'd dragged her into. Otherwise Benny and Olivia were it. Olivia came back into the room and headed back to the bathroom.

"She's here," she said as she passed by and shut the bathroom door behind her.

"Good morning," Allie said, standing in the doorway of the bedroom, "...are we ready?"

"How ready is ready, exactly?" Benny asked, "where's everyone else, is anybody else even here yet?"

"Claire's on her way, Salem and Rufus are meeting us at the casino, and as for Zoe, I couldn't tell ya where she is but she isn't coming in with us, so. She's already done so much for us anyway in regards to this that I wouldn't ask her to do more, as it is. She can happily sit this one out," Allie said.

"...Claire is coming in with us?" Molly asked, sounding nervous.

"Yeah, she...kinda demanded it," Allie said, sighing, shrugging, "Molly, don't worry, she isn't a threat to us. If anything, she needs us, desperately. Our exclusion of her would make her a threat to us. As it stands right now, everything's at an agreeable stalemate, and frankly I'm fine with that. Besides, I'll be there, and I won't let her hurt anyone even if she tried, which she won't, okay?"

Molly nodded hesitantly, then went back to getting dressed. Olivia came back out from the bathroom and stopped looking at everyone, hands on her hips, now fully dressed in her uniform. For a moment nobody said a word, and then Olivia exhaled.

"Welp," she said, "I'm going to work. I'll be clear across town. Please be careful, both of you."

"We're just breaking into a casino vault, what's the worst that could happen?" Molly asked, pulling her shoes on while standing. Olivia and Benny laughed as Olivia leaned in, kissed Benny on the cheek, then leaned the opposite direction and planted a kiss on Molly's head, making her blush. With that, she walked towards Allie, still in the doorframe, and stopped again.

"...don't lose them," Olivia said sternly, and Allie smiled, nodding.

"I won't, don't worry," Allie said. Olivia nodded in responded, then headed past her. Once they heard the front door shut, knowing she was out of earshot, Allie turned back to the others and continued watching them get ready before checking her watch. They were supposed to meet Rufus and Salem at the casino anytime now, but...where the hell was Claire?

                                                                          ***

"Are you nervous?" Claire asked, standing outside a deli across the street from Jackson's performance space, the two of them each eating their own sandwiches. Jackson chewed, swallowed and nodded. He waited a moment to reply, thinking about how exactly to put it, and finally sighed before speaking as Claire lifted her sandwich up to her face and took another bite while he did so.

"I'm always nervous before stuff like this but not...not really for the reasons you might expect," he said, "uh...not because I don't think I can't do it, because I know I can, I'm well aware of my skill level and I designed the damn thing, but moreso because I don't want to disappoint people, you know? It's a tightrope of being a performer; escape too fast and they're upset, stay in too long and they get bored. People want excitement. They want drama. I just want to give them a good, safe show."

Claire grinned as she chewed, listening. Jackson leaned against the brick building and took a sip of his soda, licking his lips afterwards.

"Either way," he said, "I know I'll be good, and I know it'll be good. I just hope everyone else thinks the same."

"I'm sure it'll be a day they don't forget," Claire said, patting him on the arm, making her chuckle. Jackson was never nervous around women, but something about Claire...something about her really got to him. He couldn't help but be a little nervous around her. She was so headstrong, so forward, but so soft and comforting. A deadly combination for a man of his ego, honestly, and she knew this, which made her deadly as well, not that that was news to anyone. Claire looked back towards the box, being lifted into the air now, testing it's ability to hang just once before the event. She smiled to herself, taking another bite of her sandwich.

When all is said and done, she thought, she knew two things would be true. The first was that what they were about to do today would be the talk of the town, and the second...well, the second was that nobody would ever forget who Jackson Strange was.

"I have to get going," Claire said, checking her watch, "I have an appointment."

"Are you coming back for the show?" Jackson asked, and Claire nodded.

"Of course, wouldn't miss it for the world," she said, "break a leg."

As he watched her walk off, Jackson felt this gnawing in the pit of his stomach. He'd long since avoided getting involved with women on any sort of romantic level, but this woman...this woman he just couldn't get out of his head. Claire, of course, was just using him. She didn't care about him one way or the other, which only made what was about to happen that much easier on her conscience. But Jackson had fallen hard in just the short time they'd known one another, and he was excited to see her at the event that night. Little did he knew she'd be deep down in a casino vault...holding a gun.

                                                                           ***

Raindrop was sitting at the bar in the casino.

She was thinking about her night out with Zoe, about how she hadn't drank that much in ages, and how it'd really gotten her thinking again about her life, her choices, her anger at the people who felt she was below them - more often than not the very clients she sought to represent - and how sick of it all she was. She was drinking again now, and it was only 1pm in the afternoon. She needed to get herself back in check, because this simply couldn't continue. A stool scooted out from beside her and she turned her head to see Zoe sitting on it.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," Zoe said.

"You have? That's...weirdly sweet," Raindrop replied, "for what reason?"

"Well, there's two magicians showing up today to do an impromptu flash performance in the main hall," Zoe said, "figured, as the insurance lawyer, you might be inclined to check it out. You know, safety and all that. Are you okay? You're drinking kinda early in the day."

"Why not," Raindrop said sullenly, shrugging, "I mean, really, why not. What fucking difference could it make, honestly. These people will never face consequences for their actions, they're all criminals on one level or another, and I'm the one who has to cover it all up, defend their despicable beliefs to a justice system that's so flawed that it wouldn't convict them even with the right amount of evidence."

"You're not, like, a regular lawyer though," Zoe said, "how often do you actually go to court?"

"Often enough, and besides, I'm still hiding things for them, doctoring information. Just once, just one goddamn time, I want things to be about ME, I want people to remember ME. I'm sick of being everyones fall guy," Raindrop said, finshing her drink and plopping the mug down onto the bartop, adding, "I want what's coming to me after a lifetime of essentially indentured servitude."

Zoe nodded. She actually understood how Raindrop felt. Between being controlled then abandoned by her parents, protected yet used by Allie, she really did see where Raindrop was coming from and how she could feel so extremely frustrated. Zoe sighed.

"Well," Zoe said, "maybe one day that chance will come, and maybe one day the universe will course correct itself and they'll get what they deserve, but until that time, you have a job to do, right? Those guys will be starting their performance anytime now. You should probably get out there."

"I guess so," Raindrop said, standing up from the stool and wobbling a bit, clearly somewhat drunk. As Zoe watched her toddle off to the main hall, where the car on the pedastal was displayed, she couldn't help but feel remorse. Here was, much like Molly and Benny and so many others, yet another innocent - well, in this instance somewhat innocent - bystander they'd duped into being remotely involved in their dark dealings, and look how it had affected her now. Zoe understood the need for the deceit...but that didn't mean she liked it.

After a few minutes, Zoe herself climbed off her stool and went to join the others in the back lot where they'd gathered. There she found Allie, Molly, Benny, Rufus and Salem, but surprisingly, still no Claire, much to Allie's chagrin at this point. As she stumbled into the group, she could hear them loudly chattering about something, somewhat heatedly, but wasn't sure what. Zoe stood a bit aways, to keep her sanity for the moment, as she watched. After a minute, a car pulled into a space beside her and parked, Claire climbing out of it and walking up beside her, stopping.

"Quite the little ragtag team we've assembled here, isn't it?" she asked.

"How is this possibly going to work?" Zoe mumbled.

"Well that's the allure of magic, isn't it?" Claire asked, grinning, putting a hand on her shoulder, "you get to wait and find out."

                                                                            ***

The thing is...it wasn't even a break in. Molly had the keys. She had designed the thing, after all.

All they really had to do was stay somewhat incognito, black out cameras where they saw them along the way - Claire's doing - and get in and get out. Allie, being a prominant part of the casino, also wouldn't be bothered for being down here either, if they were stopped, because who was going to argue with Tony's top draw entertainer? Really, this group was in the clear from the get go. The issue was getting back out, which, thankfully, wasn't going to be difficult. Between the tricks Molly and Benny had learned from Strange's glass box design and Benny's overall knowledge of sleight of hand, they had a clear cut way out through a hollow section of wall, which came as inspiraton from Claire's crimes. Everyone had, whether they knew it or not, come together to make this as simple and viable a thing as possible.

The ones who had it somewhat rough...were Rufus and Salem.

Up in the main hall, watching the car spin around on the pedastal from a distance, Salem himself couldn't understand how he'd come this far. Just a few months ago he'd been approached by these people for information, and now here he was, attempting to help them steal a car? From a casino, no less? Wild. Rufus adjusted his tie and his cape, as Salem nervously twitched at his beard, stroking it casually with his fingertips. He knew the plan. They'd gotten it all set up. A curtain would come up around the car, fully engulfing it away from the audience, and then the pedastal would detract down into the floor, taking the car with it, where it would be moved by Salem's wife before the pedastal raised back up, and they drove the damn thing out of the back of the building from the underground. Plain and simple. Didn't make him any less nervous though, honestly.

"You doin' okay, kid?" Rufus asked, and Salem shrugged, shaking his head.

"That's a real loaded question," he replied.

Rufus laughed, slapped him on the back, and together they walked towards the car, ready to make the casino goes gasp. Watching a bit from afar was Raindrop, keeping a keen eye on what was happening. She knew impromptu flash performances such as these took place all the time, that wasn't out of the ordinary, but still...something about this made her anxious in her gut. Course, that could also be all the alcohol. A sizeable crowd soon gathered to witness the act, as Tony himself stopped beside Raindrop, watching, eating a burrito in a foil wrap.

"What's this all about?" he asked. Raindrop glanced up at him, confused.

"Wait, you...you didn't authorize this?" she asked, and he shook his head, chewing, watching. Now that awful feeling made sense. Something was wrong with this. As the act came to a close and the car pedastal raised back up, the car gone, both Tony and Raindrop stood there aghast...what had just happened? Tony turned, storming off in a different direction, looking for answers, while Raindrop started to approach Salem and Rufus when she was stopped by Zoe.

"What the hell did they do with the car?!" she shouted, and Zoe held her by the shoulders.

"...you wanna get back at these people? The people you claim to hate? Now is your chance," Zoe said.

A pause, as they locked eyes.

"I'm listening," Raindrop said.

Meanwhile, the group had reached the vault door. While Molly fumbled with the keys, Claire and Allie watched down the hall together in a sort of daze. Honestly, despite their rather sturdious dispositions, neither one really could believe they were currently doing what they were doing. They were completely phased. Claire looked at Allie and cleared her throat.

"I visited Raymond Sykes," Claire said, and Allie looked at her, her eyes wide; Claire nodded and continued, "I went to him, disguised as the unknown and abandoned daughter of one of his business associates, and we spoke. He gave me information. Told me about my 'dad', if you will. I can continue gathering more, and you can take it all and hand it right on over to the agents. I just want one thing. My freedom. I want a cut of whatever is in this vault, and I want to leave town, for good. Are we understood, is that clear? I'll be out of your life forever."

Allie shook her head slowly, mouth slightly agape.

"Who the hell are you?" she asked, whispering, making Claire smirk.

"I'm the answer to all your prayers, sweetheart," Claire replied.

"It's a good thing Tony opted for old time lock and key instead of those identifying key cards," Benny said from behind, "probably because he doesn't want his own activity traced back to it if it's discovered, but it's certainly working in our benefit, that's for sure."

The door swung open and the group headed inside and...well...what they saw...

...it definitely wasn't what they expected.

                                                                              ***

Jackson couldn't see her.

He was scanning the crowd for her face, but he couldn't see her. Why was he so hung up on this girl that he'd met a few times? How had she so successfully wormed her way into his psyche? He was crazy about her. He sighed and shook his head as he approached the box, putting a hand on it. Showtime was in scant minutes, maybe she was just running late. He stepped inside the box, looked at one of the assistants, and whistled, an audible indicator for them to begin raising it into the sky overhead the crowd, crammed between these two buildings. As he was lifted up, the crowd below cheered, clapped, whistled, and he smiled. Even in spite of her absence, nothing would ruin this day for him. He'd spent months preparing for this.

And then the box shifted, and he stumbled, catching himself, breathing hard. Had they hit the side of a building? The creaking, the sound of metallic grating on something. Jackson looked around, unsure where the noise was originating from. Until he saw it.

One of the chains holding the box to the lift in the air was breaking. It was loose. His heart caught in his chest, and he thought back to the woman. She'd been so interested, come about so suddenly, wanted to appreciate the box with him. She'd gotten him right from the start. She'd done this. And indeed Claire had. Claire had sneakily damaged the chain so that it would snap while Jackson was high in the air, and there was nothing he could do about it because the people down below, the people working for him, didn't even know it. For all they knew, everything was going fine. And that's when the reality really sunk in. Jackson looked down at the crowd again. Children. The elderly. Young couples. All within striking distance of shattering glass. His heart began to race. No. The one thing he didn't want, his audience being harmed, that was the worst part.

He'd trusted her. He'd always been so trusting of women because he'd always been so charming, so easily able to get their attention, that he never once thought a woman might have it out for him. The chain snapped more, and Jackson steeled him for the inevitable. The glass box was going to fall, people were going to be hurt, and he could very well die. He scanned his brain for anything she might've said, anything she might've done that would stick out to him, but she'd been nothing but encouraging and supportive and interested. Were those crimes, really? Jackson started breathing hard and fast, and then he realized the biggest thing of all, she hadn't been interested in him...she'd been interested in the box.

The chain snapped.

Jackson could feel himself falling through the air freestyle inside the box as it plummeted to the ground, the crowd below screaming in sheer panic, shoving one another, trampling eachother to try to escape the hit zone. But it didn't matter. The thing shattered hard, taking other innocent people down with it. Jackson, however, was alive. Shockingly, he was alive. He laid admist the broken glass and the chains and the metal rigging, but he was alive. His back hurt, and he couldn't move much, but he'd survived the fall. Jackson looked around, then glanced down at his legs, which were not only bent in awful directions, but had glass shards sticking out of them. He started to cry. What had he done to deserve this?

The truth?

Nothing. He was a jerk, sure, but he was a pawn, and nothing more. Something to simply buy time to distract in case the heist went wrong. Something else for the police to be bothered by, busy with. To buy them some time. It was a failsafe, there was no guarantee it would be necessary. Except...well...Claire's intuition was spot on. Because things in the vault...were about to end violently.

                                                                         ***

"A car?" Allie asked.

The group circled around it like vultures admiring a fresh kill.

"A car? That's what he needed the space for?" Allie asked again, "I'm...I'm flummoxed."

"Baffled?" Benny asked.

"Bamboozled even," Allie said, the both of them laughing nervously at the exchange as she added, "why would he need to store a car? Unless...what did Zoe say about chips? About stealing chips?"

Allie approached the car and tried to open the trunk, but to no avail. Benny and Molly got to work, looking for the handle inside to do the job, while Allie stepped back and stood beside Claire. Allie folded her arms, confused. She simply couldn't fathom why he'd need a car, except to perhaps move chips without being detected. Claire coughed anxiously and Allie looked towards her.

"Well, looks like you might have your ride out of town," Allie said, and Claire laughed.

"Stop," a voice said, and Allie and Claire turned to see Raindrop entering behind them. She looked ragged, worn out, like she'd run all the way down here. What the hell was she doing here? Zoe was supposed to keep her occupied. Nobody said a thing while Molly and Benny continued to look for the handle to open the trunk, as Raindrop slowly, and cautiously, approached the gang.

"What's this?" Claire asked, putting a hand into her leather jacket pocket.

"I work for Raymond Sykes," Raindrop said, "he's been looking for proof that Tony's been cheating him, planning on pulling support. I fucking hate Raymond Sykes, but I can use this as leverage. I can take this to him, get Tony shut down, and Raymond will let me quit. He won't let me quit. I've tried."

"Yeah, that sounds like Raymond," Allie scoffed, remembering the things others had said about him, "but we can't...we can't let you do that, we need to give this information to the agents we're working with. Come with us. Join us. You can get out with us, Raindrop."

Raindrop bit her lip, her eyes scanning to Molly and Benny digging around in the car, their backs to everyone. Benny whistled to them that they think they found the handle, and Allie and Claire turned back to see. Raindrop shook her head, reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small, snub nosed pistol. She walked past Allie and Claire, shoving them aside, as Allie screamed. Molly turned to see what was happening when the shot went out and she stumbled back against the car, feeling the heat of the bullet in her gut. Benny screamed and looked towards Raindrop before she plugged him as well, the both of them sliding down against the car and to the floor. Allie screamed and stood up, but Raindrop shoved her away and aimed at Allie, tears running down her face. Allie felt her heart drop. No. This...this wasn't...her eyes looked towards Molly. She'd promised Olivia they'd come back safe. Allie started crying and squeezed her eyes shut tight, preparing for the shot, when she heard the sound of a gun go off. Allie opened her eyes and saw Raindrop dead on the floor, a hole between her eyes. Claire was standing there, holding a pistol, before looking down at Allie. Claire reached down and held her hand out, but Allie wouldn't take it. Claire knelt beside her, taking her face in her hands.

"It's all gone to shit," Claire whispered, "You need to get these guys out of here, and I need to get ghost."

"...you could've let her kill me," Allie whimpered.

"And you could've shot me instead of Kristin," Claire replied, "but that's not what we do. You and me, Meers, we're in this to the end. Now we're even. Get Salem down here, get these guys out, they don't deserve to die for this."

Allie nodded, in awe of what had just transpired, reeling in the aftermath. Claire looked at her watch and shook her head.

"I say you got about a half hour before anyone comes down here to see what's going on, and even less time for them for the shock to set in, which will make saving them harder. Get them out, Meers. I'll contact you."

Claire pulled Allie up to her feet and Allie stared at Claire. She didn't know how to react. Claire held Allie's face in her hands and kissed her, surprising her, before turning and briskly exiting the vault. Allie turned and looked at Molly and Benny, quickly rushing over to them. She pulled out of her phone and texted Salem to get down here immediately. She crawled up beside Molly and took her hands in her own, not realizing the amount of blood covering her now as she wiped one across her face to rid it of the sweat that had formed. Molly's eyes fluttered open and she looked up at Allie.

"I'm so sorry," Allie sobbed, her lip quivering, "I didn't...I didn't know that...Molly I'm so sorry."

"...you always are," Molly whispered, before looking towards Benny. Allie stood back up and opened her phone, calling Salem now. As she shouted at him about what was going on, Molly reached over and took Benny's hand. He wasn't moving, but his hand was still warm. Molly leaned herself back against the tire, shut her eyes, and slipped into the darkness she'd so long been afraid of.

Sirens.

Sirens across the city. Multiple ambulances parked at Jackson Strange's performance, a few more - along with a dozen police cars - parked at the second Card Shark, mayhem and grief spreading rapidly. Allie was stood outside the casino, Salem beside her, holding her hand tightly, her hands and face smeared with blood. 3 people loaded into various ambulances. Allie didn't understand how this happened. How did this happen? Everything had gone exactly as planned. How could this happen? Salem squeezed her hand tighter, and she grimaced, tears running down her face. This wasn't how it was going to end. She was going to fix this. She was going to make this right.

"You couldn't have known that-" Salem started, but Allie just shook her head.

"I took them down there," she said quietly, "this is all my fault. I did this."

"You did not do this, Allie," Salem said, "Allie, seriously, you had no idea that that would happen."

"Everything has been my fault, and I deserve to go down for it," Allie whispered, "but if I'm going down, so is Raymond Sykes. He will face fucking consequences for what happened here today, what he's done to everyone...he will not get away with this."

Allie exhaled.

"I need rest," she whispered, and Salem nodded.

"Go on home," Salem said, "I'll go see Olivia. You shouldn't have to-"

"No, I'll do that too, but I need a break first," Allie said, "...thank you Salem."

Allie turned and walked away, heading to the back lot to her car. As she approached, pulling her keys from her pocket, she spotted a note left on the windshield. Allie leaned over and grasped it in her fist, then smoothed it out and read it.

"Allie, please let me know you're okay. I heard there was an incident at the casino, Jenny."

Allie smiled weakly. She then climbed into her car and headed back to the previous Card Shark, where her suite...and someone else awaited her.

                                                                           ***

The door swung open, and the place was dark. Allie flipped on the lights, which had been set to dim mode, when she spotted someone sitting at her kitchen counter on a barstool. Allie slowly approached them, relieved to discover it was only Zoe. Zoe looked up at her as she entered the room, but neither one said anything. After a minute or two, Zoe stumbled off the stool and walked to Allie, who just opened her arms. Zoe collapsed into her chest and sobbed as Allie hugged her tight, stroking her hair.

"I've got you," Allie whispered.

"I did this," Zoe whispered, "this happened because of me. I felt bad for Raindrop. I sent her down there."

"You did what you thought was best, just like I did," Allie said softly, "we all screw up. But it can be fixed."

"Are they okay?" Zoe asked, and Allie shrugged.

"I...I really don't know," Allie said, trying not to think about Molly or Benny, as it hurt her heart far too much; Allie sighed and added, "but right now, I've got you. We're safe."

"We're never going to be safe," Zoe cried, and Allie scoffed.

"That isn't true," Allie said, "I'm going to make sure of it. We will be. Because Raymond Sykes isn't going to be arrested."

"What?" Zoe asked, looking up at her, confused.

"He can't be," Allie said, "he's wealthy, he's the governor for god sakes. He'll face no consequences. Which is why I'm going to kill him."

Rachel St. Sebastian was sitting on her bed. She had pulled the blankets up and around her, cocooning herself within them as she took slow but steady breaths, attempting to process what had occurred the night before. She had consented, that much was true, but if so...why did it feel so...wrong? Why did she feel taken advantage of? She thought she'd wanted it. She thought she'd liked the intimacy. She thought...she thought she'd loved Claire, but really...did she? Or was she simply a victim who had become too attached to her owner. She didn't know. After a minute, the door to the bedroom opened and Claire entered, carrying a bag of breakfast sandwiches and two cups of coffee in takeaway cups. Rachel looked up as Claire sat on the bed and opened the bag, reaching inside and pulling out a bear claw, handing it to Rachel, making her smile weakly. Claire really did know her, she couldn't deny.

"You," Claire said, sitting behind Rachel, arms around her shoulders, her lips on her neck, "sure put on a show last night, and I for one appreciate theatrics. I'm a patron of the arts, what can I say?"

Rachel chuckled as she continued nibbling on the bear claw, sipping at her coffee. Claire got up and started to get dressed, torn jeans and a crop top with a tight leather jacket. She did her earrings, then stood in front of the vanity to apply her makeup, all while Rachel watched, one eyebrow raised in confusion.

"Where are you going all dolled up again? You're not...are you seeing someone else?" Rachel asked, causing Claire to laugh as she applied her eyeliner.

"What, jealous?" Claire replied.

"I don't...no...I don't know. It was just a question. I was just wondering why you're getting dressed up all nice and pretty. Seems like something someone would only do if they're expecting to spend some time with someone," Rachel said, and Claire turned, finished with her thin layer of makeup, reaching out and putting a hand on Rachel's face. Rachel shivered at the warmth of her skin.

"I do have a luncheon to attend, Allie asked me to meet someone for her" Claire said, "but don't worry, it isn't like that. It's business. Not pleasure. You're all the pleasure I need, my pet."

She leaned in and kissed Rachel, then told her she'd be back in a few hours before leaving quickly. Rachel sat there and ate the entire bag of breakfast sandwiches and pastries, trying to make sense of her life. When it'd been just them...when it'd been the cult, it was one thing. She wanted so badly to protect Claire at all costs, she'd never loved another woman as deeply as she'd loved her. Rachel St. Sebastian had spent a good portion of her formative years denying her sexuality to herself simply for the sake of keeping the peace amongst her family and friends. But Claire...Claire had shaken all that loose within her, and she was so very dedicated to her. Dedicated enough to help her hide bodies in walls. But, she wondered...if she spent all her time protecting others...

...who was going to protect her?

                                                                         ***

Multiple knocks on the door only to find, after the 5th, that Jenny finally answered, discovering an annoyed looking Allie standing in her apartment hallway. Jenny sighed and stepped aside, allowing Allie entrance, after which Jenny shut the door behind them.

"What gives?" Allie asked, "You come to my place, you comfort me, you say that I need someone looking out for me, and then you don't answer my calls, you don't show up at the thing I invited you to, did I do something wrong?"

"You didn't do anything wrong, I just felt awkward," Jenny said, shrugging, walking by Allie and back towards the kitchen in her tank top and sleep shorts, where she was currently making steak and eggs for breakfast. Allie followed her and sat down at the kitchen table.

"Then what the fuck is it?" Allie asked, "Cause it's...it's bothering me."

"It isn't anything," Jenny said, "really, it isn't...it isn't anything, I have a job, I'm busy, I'm bad at communication."

"Didn't seem so bad communicating with Nick," Allie said, putting her legs up on Jenny's table and folding her arms.

"Hey, that isn't fair, I told you, everything we ever talked about was about you, alright?" Jenny replied, "let's at least try to keep this civil."

"Jenny, I am about to do something terrifying that might change my entire life, and I guess I just need to know I've got security in someone outside of those I'm involved with, someone who will give me a sense of-"

"Are we not involved?" Jenny asked, turning her stovetop off, finishing cooking and looking towards Allie, one hand on her hip.

"...I mean, we are, we're friends now, I guess? I don't know, you know I didn't mean it that way, come on," Allie said.

"We can be more involved, if that's what you'd like," Jenny said, taking Allie by surprise. Jenny set her utensils on the counter and approached, looking down at Allie. Allie looked up at her, and it was...so weirdly...comforting? Looking into her own face, like a mirror without any glass. Allie felt like now, finally, there was a good version of herself in the world who she could converse with. Jenny sat in Allie's lap and put her arms over her shoulders, causing Allie to tense up.

"Why don't you tell me what's bothering you, and I'll help best I can?" Jenny asked, and Allie nodded slowly.

She wasn't gay. She'd found women attractive before, sure, but she had no interest in sleeping with them? So what was this feeling exactly?

                                                                           ***

"I'm surprised you'd want to have anything to do with someone such as myself," Raindrop said, "I know I've been kind of...stuck up and snobby, but it isn't anything personal, I hope you know. I'm just hyperfocused on work when I'm at the casino. I know I don't come off exactly...friendly."

"Eh, nobody in a casino is friendly, to be fair," Zoe sad, shrugging as she watched Raindrop finish her second drink and put the glass back on the table; Zoe reached for a buffalo wing from the basket and started eating it as Raindrop sighed.

"Of course, but when you have to be extra professional all the time, it's...it's hard. It makes people never want to socialize with me, so this was a nice surprise, thank you," Raindrop said, unclipping her dark oak brown hair and letting it fall over her shoulders as she ran her fingers through it; she continued, "I want to have friends, go on dates, but all I do is work, and work for the worst kinds of people."

"Then why keep doing it?" Zoe asked.

"Cause they pay the best," Raindrop said, laughing, which made Zoe chuckle.

"Guess I can't exactly argue with that," Zoe said.

"For example, and I shouldn't even be telling you this, but, Tony? He's paying me exceptionally well," Raindrop said, "and I feel guilty accepting payment cause I'm barely even doing anything for him. I'm hoping, maybe, if he pays me enough, I can gamble enough of those earnings off to win that stupid car he's got parked in the casino. Lord knows I could use it."

"If you're paid so well, why not just buy a new car?" Zoe asked.

"Living in Vegas ain't cheap," Raindrop said, taking a wing for herself now, biting into it and chewing as she continued, adding, "rent, food, other expenses. A fancy car, despite being a crooked lawyer, is surprisingly low on my list of priorities. At this point my reputation speaks enough for itself that outside visuals aren't going to help much anyway."

"Once again, guess I can't exactly argue with that," Zoe said.

As Raindrop chowed down, Zoe motioned to the waitress to bring them more drinks and food. She was in this for the long haul, and boy...would it be long.

                                                                           ***

Jackson Strange was standing outside by the glass box, planted firmly on the ground, as he inspected it with two other men, both of whom he'd hired as help for the event. Really, though, what they were inspecting weren't even the box itself, to be fair, but moreso that surrounding area that the event would be taking place in. Jackson was concerned that the space was too tight, too cramped, could be claustrophobic - not for him, he'd already be in a glass box - but for anyone who wanted to witness the spectacle.

"I just don't want people to be afraid is all," Jackson said, "it's very important to me that my audience feels safe and comfortable."

"Well, then they probably shouldn't be attending a magic show," a voice from behind said, "after all, it's such a dangerous profession, but you know that don't you?"

Jackson turned and saw a woman standing there in torn jeans, a crop top and a leather jacket. Jackson raised an eyebrow in interest, as she approached them. Jackson told the other men to take a break as he turned his full attention to the woman now.

"And what would you know about that?" Jackson asked.

"Nothing much," Claire said, shrugging, "just that I'm a fan."

Claire walked past him a bit and looked up at the box, then looked back at him and grinned.

"Can I touch it?" she asked somewhat seductively, and Jackson nodded slowly, completely entranced by her. Claire pulled a hand free from the pocket on her jacket and reached out, placing her palm firmly on the glass wall, letting the coolness of it overwhelm her and make her shiver. Jackson walked up beside her and folded his arms as he stood there.

"I'm gonna be honest with you, mostly cause nobody else is here," Jackson said, "but I'm a little scared. This is easily the most extreme public escape stunt I've ever performed. I know I can do it, that's the thing, but it's that little gnawing doubt that is in the back of your head, you know? Can't logically convince my brain of the truth, regardless of its veracity. I know it'll be fine, but I always get nervous before a show."

"Not unsurprising," Claire said, shrugging, "I think if you didn't get nervous, well, that would be...strange, though perhaps that would suit you."

Jackson grinned as Claire pulled her hand off the box and stuffed it back into the jacket pocket. Jackson laughed a little and looked around. For some reason - despite being extremely successful with women - he was having a hard time acting cool in front of this woman, and he wasn't used to that.

"Listen," he said, scratching the back of his head, "if you'd like to know more about how it's done, we could have dinner tonight, if you're free."

"I would love that, actually," Claire said, smiling at him sweetly, biting her lip. Jackson was about to say something else when his attention was pulled away by one of the workers, and he excused himself momentarily. After he was a bit aways, Claire pulled a small camera from her jacket pocket and started taking snapshots of the box, the apparatus, the whole setup, and that's when she noticed the fault in the design. The chains weren't exactly secured in the way they should be. Whether this oversight was Jackson or the workers faults she couldn't know, but she knew exactly where to hit it now. She glanced over towards him and for a brief moment, she felt a twinge of regret. He was such a good conman, and she had some modicum of respect for him on that level, but...well...Allie had been mauled, so it wouldn't be that far fetched for Jackson to have some kind of accident doing his own work.

If she'd learned one thing since being here, it was that Vegas wasn't exactly safe.

                                                                          ***

Jenny was gathering up clothes in her bedroom, tossing them into a hamper that Allie was carrying around for her. After their brief moment in the kitchen, Jenny had asked for help with her chores around the apartment, and, considering Jenny had previously done her chores for her, Allie felt somewhat obligated to return the favor. Jenny picked up a few shorts, a pair of shorts and some underwear and threw them all into the hamper as Allie leaned against the wall and watched.

"I guess I just don't know what to make of it," Allie said.

"Why make anything of it?" Jenny asked, shrugging, "I mean, not everything has to be assigned some kind of meaning. Some things can just BE, you know? Why drive yourself crazy trying to make something out of nothing? I mean, shit, you of all people should know the power that comes with not knowing every little detail about something, considering you perform magic for a living. Those audiences know nothing, and they are thrilled at the experience."

Allie laughed a little and nodded as Jenny grabbed a robe and a pair of sweatpants, some tank tops and tossed them into the hamper as well. Standing in front of Allie, Jenny stopped and looked at her, causing Allie to stop breathing momentarily as their eyes locked.

"If I don't make anything of anything, then does anything mean anything?" Allie asked.

"What are you, a community college philosophy student?" Jenny asked, causing Allie to laugh nervously as Jenny reached out and put her hands on Allie's face, holding it so gently, leaning in, "just let things be. Not everything has to mean something. Some things just are."

Allie couldn't take it anymore. She dropped the hamper, took Jenny by the waist and kissed her...or rather...kissed...herself? The thing was, it wasn't Jenny she was interested in. It was this pastiche of herself that she was after. Sure, Jenny was very sweet, very soft, but her face looked exactly like Allie's and that was what made Allie want to do this. She wanted someone to love her in a way that only she could love herself. Jenny pushed forward, pinning Allie to the wall and kissed down her neck, causing Allie to pant heavily as Jenny held her wrists over her head.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," Jenny whispered.

"I have some idea," Allie replied quietly. Jenny kissed downwards, kneeling, tugging at Allie's pants. There wasn't much Allie could've wanted, but to be with herself...that had long been the dream. Was it narcissism? Maybe. Or maybe it was the fact that everyone she'd ever been with romantically, sans Nick on occasion, had had so much trouble loving her unconditionally that perhaps she had finally bought into the concept of loving herself instead. Afterwards, laying on the bed, a single sheet half covering them as Jenny sifted her fingers through her tussled hair, Allie couldn't believe what she'd just done. Staring up at the ceiling, she thought about it. Jenny probably thought it was personal, about her, and Allie hated that that wasn't the case at all. She'd already taken her face from her, now she was going to break her heart too? How callous could she be? Allie rolled onto her side and sighed as Jenny did the same, rolling towards her, facing Allie's back and kissing her shoulders as she put a hand on her hip.

"You're so beautiful," Jenny whispered, and Allie blushed.

"So are you," Allie replied, and she meant it, just not in the way Jenny probably hoped.

                                                                             ***

"People with money, they make me sick," Raindrop said.

Both she and Zoe, at this point, were pretty sloshed, and still sitting in the booth. A dozen baskets of varying appetizers now scattered on the table amongst them, Zoe was starting to get a pounding headache. She rarely drank as it was, and it was not something she ever wanted to do again, not after tonight, not after this. Raindrop was sat in the booth, her head completely craned back, as Zoe slid down the side and laid flat on the booth, out of sight as Raindrop continued to complain.

"Yeah people with money suck," Zoe mumbled.

"I don't want to be like them, but it's so nice to be comfortable, so I continue doing what I do and I feel like an enormous hypocrite. I'm on retainer for so many wealthy fucks, and they all act like their lives are soooo hard. Raindrop, hide this money for me! Raindrop, sue this already marginalized business owner for me! Raindrop, hide my assets in a secret vault! Disgusting."

Zoe sat up a bit, glancing over the table.

"Secret vault?" she asked, and Raindrop laughed.

"I shouldn't say anything," she said, "but god, Tony is so scared of his business partner that he wants to hide his best earnings in a vault under the casino. He even had a contractor special build it for him, because he wants it totally hidden so he can eventually take it and leave town. He's sick of the city. He wants out. And actually, I don't blame him, of all the people I work for, he's the most down to earth. My other boss, his business partner, is a straight out psycho when it comes to money. I don't blame Tony for being scared. Oh my god, you can't tell anyone I said any of this, okay?"

"I'm a magician," Zoe stuttered, slurring her words, "what benefit would this information really gain me?"

"You wouldn't believe what's down there," Raindrop said.

"Really?" Zoe asked, sitting upright more now, pushing her curly bangs from her face.

"Mhhhm," Raindrop said, crawling over the booth towards her and lowering her voice as she leaned in, "I'll give you a hint, you think that car in the casino is a prize? It isn't. It's a coverup. He's using a car as a cover up! Nobody is ever gonna win that thing! The odds of winning a car in a casino are so low, and even then, even then..."

Raindrop started laughing, causing Zoe to furrow her brow in confusion.

"...and even then," she continued, still half whispering, half laughing, "it isn't worth what you think it is!"

                                                                              ***

Rachel was sitting at the dinner table, having eaten. A lot of food was on another plate across the table from her, now completely stone cold. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime of waiting, the front door opened and Claire entered, pulling her leather jacket off and tossing it onto the armchair in the living room before entering the kitchen, not bothering to turn the lights on as Rachel had lit candles going on the table. Seeing Claire in her tight low rise jeans and her sleeveless crop top, Rachel had to bite her lip to control her attraction as Claire retrieved a beer from the fridge and uncapped it, standing by the table and drinking for a moment before her eyes widened.

"Did you...did you make dinner for both of us?" she asked.

"Does it matter?" Rachel asked, sounding totally defeated.

"...I'm so sorry," Claire said, sounding genuine - but of course, that's part of being a good liar and Rachel knew damn well that's what she was now - and very appreciative as she added, "my meeting ran longer than I intended, but it was very important. Not...not that having dinner with you isn't. That didn't come out right."

"I stay here and I hope every day that you love me," Rachel said, on the verge of tears, "and I'm so stupid cause I know you never will, not in the way I need you to, the way I hope you will. I'm such a goddamn idiot."

Rachel scooted her chair out from the table and gathered her plates, taking them over to the sink. Claire set her drink down on the counter and approached her from behind, putting her hands on her hips, nuzzling her neck.

"Please don't be upset," Claire whispered, as Rachel fought the urge to give in, but she didn't.

"I'm sorry but I am," Rachel said, "I do things for you all the time and you can't even give me a single evening. What even ARE we? You call me your 'pet' as if I'm supposed to be honored by that title. That's...that's not honorable. That's insulting. Dehumanizing. I'm a person, not a German Shepard. You're not going to change. And...and I wouldn't want you to, because I love you for who you are, but at the same time who you are isn't healthy for me."

Claire felt her heart break. Rachel pulled away and took some tupperware from an upper cabinet before walking back to the table to put the rest of the food away. Claire leaned against the counter and sniffled.

"One morning," Claire said, "when I was 13 years old, I made my bed. Getting me to do anything related to cleaning my room as a child was always a problem for my parents, so this was completely out of the blue for me. But I was tired of fighting about it, and I figured, ya know, I'd do the right thing and just make the bed. So I made the bed. And when I got home from school, what do I find? I find a note pinned to my headboard. They couldn't even talk to me in person about it, I wasn't even worthy enough of an audible explanation, no, I got pen and paper. It said they couldn't believe I'd done it, and that I must be doing it to mess with them and they didn't trust my intentions. I do the wrong thing and it gets a bad reaction, I do the right thing and it gets a bad reaction. That was the moment I realized that it didn't matter what I did, because who I was was inherently distrustful, so I may as well be anyone else. So I started applying new personalities."

Rachel stopped and turned to look at Claire, knowing she was finally telling her the truth about something. Rachel was, perhaps, the only person capable of hearing the change in her tone when Claire told the truth.

"I eventually ran away, came up with a persona people seemed to like, and you know the rest. But here, now, with you...it feels like it was with my parents. No matter what I do, I can't please you. If I'm controlling, which you seemed to find attractive, then I'm bad, and if I'm apologetic then it doesn't make a difference either. You're the only person I ever wanted to actually trust me, past my parents I mean. To hear you don't...it hurts so much."

Rachel set the tupperware down and approached Claire, putting her hands on her face and lifting it so she could look in her eyes.

"I was a little girl, and I made my bed," Claire cried quietly, as Rachel kissed her, then pulled her in for a hug. And the thing was, Claire wasn't lying. Everything she said was the truth. But she wasn't telling Rachel these things because she had any intention of changing, she was doing it to emotionally manipulate her into continue helping her, trusting her. Yes, Claire loved her, but what Claire loved more...

...was loyalty.

                                                                            ***

It was almost 2am, and Allie was finally getting back to the suite, unlocking her door and entering. As she turned the lights on, she saw Zoe laying on the couch, and sighed. Allie walked over to the couch and sat down on the arm, reaching down and gently touching Zoe's head, causing her to wake up a bit.

"Are you drunk again?" Allie asked.

"Yes, but not for the reasons you may think," Zoe said, hiccuping, "and believe me, I'm never drinking again."

"What are you doing here?" Allie asked.

"We need to talk," Zoe said, sitting upright with Allie's help; she continued, "I took Tony's lawyer out tonight, at the Agents suggestion. Was told to get information out of her. Allie...the vault...what's in it...it's not what we think. She wouldn't tell me exactly what it was, but she did tell me about the car in the casino."

"The one on the spinning pedestal?" Allie asked, and Zoe nodded; Allie added, "what does that have to do with anything?"

"Because my math was wrong," Zoe said, "remember when I brought up all that math before? Well I was wrong."

"Wrong? You?" Allie asked, smirking, making Zoe chuckle.

"I mean, I wasn't wrong in the math, but I was wrong in how to deal with it. If Tony hires someone to win the prize, as I said, he's covered. But theft? Theft isn't protected in the same sense as someone winning it properly and having to pay the earnings on it. So I went back to the casino and I took pictures of it. I then went home, went to the website for the manufacturer and looked it up. I figured, okay, I’ll find the same model car, and get an idea of the features such a car model might typically offer. But here's the thing...here's what we didn't take into consideration...a car loses value as soon as it's driven off the lot, so the car is already worth less because he's bought it to put it in the casino. Therefore whatever value whoever wins it would get for reselling it would be so much less."

"...okay?" Allie asked, "Zoe, what are you telling me?"

"Allie, and I hate that I have to say this, but..." Zoe said, looking at her feet before looking up at Allie and grimacing, "...we have to steal that car."

Raymond Sykes was never late.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                                                             ***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Allie chewed her lip and nodded, listening closely.

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

                                                                           ***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                                                         ***

Rachel St. Sebastian was making dinner.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I told you, I had a meeting."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                                                           ***

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

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

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

"Yeah, hi, hello," Zoe said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And to be honest...

...she was fucking scared to find out.

Allie woke up and groaned, rolling onto her side from her stomach. As she gained consciousness, she gripped the top of the couch with her fingers and managed to hoist herself up further, and glanced around the suite, her eyes adjusting to the light of the new day, only to be surprised when she spotted Jenny standing in her kitchen, making coffee. Allie sat upright fully and licked her lips, rubbing her hands over her eyes as Jenny came back to the couch with a mug, handing it to Allie before taking a nearby blanket and putting it over her shoulders. Allie lifted the mug to her lips and took a long sip, then looked up at Jenny, standing in front of her, smiling down.

"...what are you still doing here?" Allie asked, her voice hoarse, making Jenny shrug.

"Didn't feel right leaving you," she replied, "you just seemed like you shouldn't be alone."

"I can handle myself," Allie said.

"Can you? Cause anytime I see you you're about to self destruct," Jenny remarked, sitting down on the couch now. Allie pulled her legs up under her, continuing to drink her coffee as Jenny went on, adding, "just seems like you're always looking out for others but nobody's looking out for you, I guess."

Allie thought about what an astute observation this was. She was always there for Zoe, for Molly, for everyone around her, always trying her best to shield them from the consequences of her actions, their actions as a group, but they had support systems of their own as well. Zoe had Effie, Molly had Benny and Olivia. Seemed like she was the only one being unsupported for the most part, especially now that Nick was distancing himself once again. She sighed and, much to even her own surprise, she scooted closer and rested her head on Jenny's shoulder.

"...I guess it could be nice to be taken care of now and then," Allie said.

Though, with Jenny's face mirroring Allie's, it was like she was taking care of herself.

                                                                        ***

Molly, Benny and Olivia were out, eating breakfast nearby the casino. Molly was having a dish made of cheese and scrambled eggs, while Benny and Olivia shared a stack of waffles. Molly scooped food into her mouth with her fork and chewed, looking out the window by their table as she did so, thinking. Benny looked up from the plate and swallowed, then put his fork down and picked up his water glass, taking a long sip.

"You okay there sport?" he asked.

"I just keep thinking about how we're going to accomplish this," Molly said, "I mean, realistically, what's the outcome? We get in there, get some photos and get out? That's hardly evidence. We can't take anything from it, because he would know, and who's to say there aren't cameras down there?"

"All valid questions," Olivia said, stabbing at the waffles.

"We could get masks, like those guys in bank heist movies," Benny said. Just then Zoe dropped onto the bench next to Molly and sighed, running her hands through her hair. Everyone looked at her and smiled politely. She waited a moment until a waitress came around and ordered a breakfast sandwich and some espresso and then looked at the table.

"I went to see Salem Shaw," she said, catching everyone off guard.

"You went to do what now?" Benny replied.

"We need someone who can be a distraction," Zoe said, "he can be that distraction. I'm not going in, so he and I can work the floor together, do a floor show in the main casino. This will provide ample distraction to anyone who should instead be focusing on security. Who's going in, by the way, do we know?"

"Me, Allie, Molly, Rufus and, apparently, someone else that Allie won't tell me yet," Benny said, "I think that's far too many, but who knows. Maybe we'll need that money."

A moment passed and Zoe grinned, then held up her hand, flashing the ring on her finger. Everyone took a minute to try to comprehend her message, until Olivia's eyes widened and she put a hand to her mouth.

"Did you get engaged?!" she asked excitedly, and Zoe nodded.

"Yeah!" she replied, "yeah, Effie asked me last night. It's...it's so weird. I'm so happy but it's also something I never saw myself doing. Then again there's lots of stuff in the last few years I never saw myself doing, so who knows."

"Congratulations," Molly said solemnly, without looking up from her eggs, making Zoe feel confused. While she and Olivia continued to discuss the ring and the engagement and the potential wedding plans, Molly excused herself to go outside and have a cigarette. After a minute or so, Benny opted to join her. He found Molly standing on the side alley by the dumpster, smoking, and stopped right beside her, as she passed the cigarette to him and he took a puff, coughing a little.

"Haven't done this in a while, and certainly not in a location that makes me feel like I'm in high school," he said, making Molly smirk as she took it back and continued smoking; Benny swatted at the smoke in the air, cleared his throat and asked, "are you okay? Your whole demeanor seemed to shift there real quickly."

"...I'm not supposed to be happy," Molly said, "I'm not...that just isn't for me. I'm glad Zoe's happy. I'm glad she's getting what she wants, or didn't know she wanted until it happened. But I can't be around that kind of happiness because I'm not destined for it myself, so."

"Destined for it? Molly, you're not a lead in a fantasy novel," Benny laughed, "and I had no idea you might even want-"

"I don't know that I do, I just...it'll never happen for me, regardless, and that's kind of sad," she remarked.

A pause, and Benny kicked the ground in front of them.

"You know," he said, "there was a point in time where Olivia and I discussed marriage. She was never kinda for it, it was always very, uh...whatever to her, ya know? Me, I grew up around lots of happy couples, my parents are still together, and so I...I always liked the idea and I was certainly the one who was pushing for it more than she was. I guess what I'm trying to say is that, we eventually came to an agreement that, if we were gonna be together, and be open, we wouldn't mind bringing in a third so long as she didn't care if I got married."

Molly slowly turned her head to look at Benny, who reached over and ran his knuckles across her cheek.

"I think subtext is enough, right?" he asked, and she laughed, nodding, as he came around in front of her and pinned her to the alley wall, kissing her, and she happily kissed him back. Molly never expected to be involved in crime, but she also never expected to fall in love. First time for everything, she figured.

                                                                            ***

"I wonder if there's irony in the fact that a person who performs magic for a living feels like such a fraud in their personal life," Allie said.

She was still sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket while Jenny picked up around the suite, gathering items into a large trash bag, putting dirty laundry into a nearby hamper, just taking care of the things Allie had been willfully neglecting for a while now.

"I mean," Allie continued, "nothing about me is real. My personality is simply an amalgamation of people I've admired, my interests and hobbies are just things I picked up from others and not anything I discovered on my own, and my ability to have friends and romantic partners is always tainted by the fact that I feel like I'm putting on a show. Everything is so performative. Nobody really knows who I am or how I feel because I'm scared if they did...they'd hate me. And why wouldn't they? That me is worse than the version they know, and the version they know they already hate, so logically it just makes sense they'd hate the real me too."

Jenny stopped and looked at Allie, hand on her hip as she tossed her hair back behind her head.

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe, the facade isn't a bad thing?" Jenny asked, and Allie looked up, one eyebrow raised in confusion; Jenny sighed, rolled her eyes and added, "everyone makes such a big deal about being real, being raw, being authentic and true to themselves. But all the most famous people in the world are entertainers who's actual personhood we know nothing about. We like the fraudulent. We embrace those putting on a mask. So maybe the facade isn't an inherently bad thing, Allie. Take it from a girl who no longer has her own face...sometimes fakery is better."

Allie watched as Jenny plopped the bag down on the floor, tossed another pair of jeans into the hamper and then sat back down on the couch beside her, sighing, shaking her head.

"Because nobody recognizes me now, but they sure like me more than they used to," Jenny continued, "because I'm not who they used to think I was. Now I'm somebody different. In some cases, someone they like or recognize or admire. They like me cause I look like you."

Allie looked at Jenny, who looked back at her, and for a brief moment, Allie saw her own self worth in someone elses eyes. Jenny smiled weakly and flopped back into the couch cushions, exhaling, blowing her bangs from her face.

"I think, when we spend our entire lives hating ourselves, it becomes hard to believe others might like us," Jenny said.

"...then why doesn't Nick like me the way he claims to?" Allie asked, sounding genuinely defeated, and Jenny shrugged.

"Maybe the problem isn't with you," Jenny answered, "maybe the problem is Nick doesn't know what he actually wants. Do you know what you actually want?"

Allie hesitated, bit her lip, and then nodded.

                                                                             ***

Rachel St. Sebastian was finishing up work for the day.

She tugged the rubber gloves off her hands and tossed them in a nearby bin, before adjusting the tubing leading into the corpse on her table, and then backed away, reaching into her coat pocket and pulling out her cigarettes. She unboxed one, lit it and then lifted it to her lips, where she took a nice, long puff. She shouldn't be smoking around the dead, she knew this, but it wasn't like they'd get cancer. Besides, the embalming process basically guaranteed they were wax figures, so the smoke wasn't any harm to their skin. Rachel stood there, tapping her foot on the floor, thinking about her job. She could've done something 'normal'. She could've been just an ordinary doctor. Lord knows she had the smarts and ambition for it. She could've helped people, saved people, but...the thing was...nobody ever wanted to help the dead. Only the alive.

She could remember being a little girl and going to a funeral, she was maybe 12 years old, and she could recall how someone had called the service "a celebration of life", and she found that viewpoint far more morbid than anything that was actually supposed to be morbid. Everyone was so afraid of death that they couldn't even spend a single day discussing it. Instead, they turned what was meant to be a goodbye into a "celebration". That felt wrong to her, somehow. So disingenous. So maybe she was in the right career field after all, doing what she could to help the dead. After all, she certainly couldn't help the living.

"You should keep this door locked," Claire said as she entered down the stairs, causing Rachel to jump in surprise, putting a hand to her chest.

"Jesus don't do that," she muttered, "what are you even doing here?"

"I like to keep tabs," Claire said, grinning, "actually I just missed you. We don't see eachother much anymore."

"Well, that's partially because I'm busy working and you're busy being a fugitive, so," Rachel replied, taking a long drag off her cigarette, as Claire got closer, took it from her lips and popped it between her own, taking a drag herself before blowing smoke into Rachel's face, causing her to cough, and feel her heartbeat quicken. Claire knew exactly the kind of attitude she liked, and she hated herself for it. She hated how attracted she was to her.

"So," Claire asked, turning to face the table, "who's the deadbeat?"

"Um," Rachel said, chuckling as she scratched her forehead, "his name was Chuck Bastion, he was a...a prominant politician, nothing really high up but very well respected. Leaves behind no family, no wife, no children, not that anyone knows about anyway."

Claire glanced down at Chuck's body and grinned.

"Is that so?" she asked, taking another drag.

                                                                            ***

"Thanks for keeping me company today," Allie said.

She was now sitting on the kitchen island counter as Jenny finished doing the dishes. Jenny sopped the excess water up, then dried her hands with some nearby paper towels before turning away from the sink and back to facing Allie, smiling warmly at her.

"I didn't have much else going on," Jenny said, shrugging.

"That's a ringing endorsement for the enjoyability of my company," Allie said, both of them laughing; Allie continued, "no really, I think I needed a day off. A day with no magic, no drama, no nothing. I've been burning the wick at both ends and I feel like I was finally running out of steam."

"And metaphors," Jenny said.

"Right," Allie said, chuckling, "and to have some company from someone that isn't someone I see all the time, that's nice. There's no expectations in regards to our interaction. Everyone else I deal with...they expect things from me, you know? My friends expect leadership, my audience expects entertainment, my boss expects financial return on his investments. I think you're the only person who doesn't expect anything from me. Nick sure expected things..."

Jenny walked up to the island and put her hands on Allie's knees, looking up at her.

"Love, be it romantic or platonic, should never be required to be reciprocal. It should just be reciprocal by nature. You should want to help those you care about, not feel forced to. I just thought you might need some help, so I came by to check on you, cause...well...seemed like nobody else was. And it's understandable, people get wrapped up in their own lives, but...at the end of the day, maybe, ya know...try to care about those you claim to? You can tell someone you love them all you want, but unless you show it, it doesn't mean shit."

Allie nodded, listening closely. She then leaned in and let Jenny hug her, stroking her hair. Here, hiding in the background the whole time, was the one person who genuinely wanted to be around her, and she'd never even expected it. Jenny was what Allie needed. Zoe came with so much baggage now, Molly really wanted nothing to do with any of them, and Nick...Nick wanted her to be someone she wasn't. But Jenny...Jenny just wanted to make sure Allie was okay, and didn't need anything in return.

"We're all getting together next week to see Jackson Strange's practice at his public performance soon," Allie said, "you should come. I want you to come."

"Then I'll be there," Jenny replied, patting her on the back before pulling away, grabbing her by the shoulders and looking her dead in the eyes, smiling and saying, "it isn't just a stage name, remember that. You ARE fucking astounding."

With that, she kissed her on the cheek, then grabbed her coat, and exited the suite. Allie continued sitting on the kitchen island counter, just thinking about the entire interaction. When Jenny had told her she'd had feelings for her in the hospital, Allie had been flattered, but had said she'd never really been one to be interested in women. Sure, she could see women being attractive, and sure, she had celebrity crushes like anyone else, but she never once felt any real intense interest in being in a romantic situation with another woman, not like Zoe did, and so she brushed it off. But after today...after the kindness, and the sincerity she just experienced, something she'd never once gotten from men, not even the good ones like Nick, she was feeling confused.

Allie finally hopped down and, blanket still wrapped around her, headed into the bathroom. She flicked on the lights and looked at herself in the mirror. What was she feeling? She didn't even know. All she knew was that she liked having Jenny around, was sad when she left, and wanted her to come back. Allie wasn't gay. She was still attracted to men very much. But something about the softness that Jenny had given her...that was something no man had ever managed to achieve. Allie felt safe, and not performative for once. She felt simply understood and seen, and allowed to be herself regardless of the wallowing. Men didn't like it when she wallowed. Jenny, however, just told her she would be okay. Allie sighed and blinked a few times. She was so tired. She had so much about to happen, she didn't need to be grappling with this sort of identity crisis on top of it all as well. She needed to talk to her cousin. She needed advice. But before she could do that, someone else knocked on her door. Allie left the bathroom and walked to the living room, pulling open the door and was surprised to see Salem Shaw.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked.

"...I'm in," Salem said, "let's rob these fuckers blind."