Corrine Paige entered her living room, clad in yoga pants and a red tanktop. Paige liked her place neat and ordered. She wasn’t obsessive about it, she just liked everything in its place. Her feet were propped up on the ottoman, relaxed as one of the dozen or so crime procedurals she so enjoyed played out on the screen. They never got it right. There was always some sort of “triangulating” or hacking going on...and why in the hell would they allow an analyst to join the assault team' Who said that was a good idea" Still, it was entertaining enough.

The doorbell almost startled her. She didn’t get many visitors, so she wasn’t at all expecting it, especially at this hour. With a grumble, she pushed herself up with her one arm, the bell ringing again.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m comin’.” She muttered, limping on over.

The last face she expected to see was on the other side of that door. Her lips parted, staring up at the man before her. Yes. Definitely the last person she would have guessed. Simon stood there, looking a bit like a lost puppy. His face was stoic as always, but there was a pain in his eyes she hadn’t seen in a long, long time.

“Hey, Corrine.” He said softly.

She eyed him a long moment. “Toews. What, uh....“ She considered him a moment, her brow furrowing. “What the hell you doin’ here"”

“Um…” he wouldn’t meet her eyes. In fact, he looked pretty much everywhere she wasn’t. “I need a place to stay.”

That was discomforting. The only time Toews ever contacted her was when he was in trouble. And even then he NEVER came to her house. Corrine was almost afraid to ask the obvious.

“Well,” she said, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t you have a big-ass penthouse you’re shacking up with the blonde chick in"”

Simon was silent. It was as if the words were there, but he couldn’t make them leave his lips. It wasn’t difficult to suss out what happened. She could see it in his eyes. Against her better judgement, she stepped aside, making room for him.

Simon forced an appreciative smile and stepped on through, a dufflebag slung over his shoulder. Paige followed him with her eyes, shutting the door behind him. He seemed lost, unsure of where to go and what to do. She was pretty sure he hadn’t expected to get in through the door.

“So.” She said, deciding to cut that tension. “You in some kinda trouble again? There a blonde out there handcuffed to a train I need to go rescue"”

“Oh, she might be handcuffed to something, but it probably ain’t a train…” he tried to joke, but it just came out hollow.

Suspicions confirmed. She nodded. “So, what, you run outta **** buddies to crash with"”

He set his bag down and leaned against the wall, letting out a sigh, the weight of the past few hours finally hitting him. “I’m sorry to come here like this. I don’t mean to inconvenience you or nothin’. I just needed to go somewhere...safe.”

“Safe from what"” She asked, trying not to pay too much attention to the boots that were on her clean carpet.

“From me.” Simon responded. “Normally, you’re right. I’d just go out, crawl into a bottle or on top of a stranger...maybe find a face to mess up with my fists...but…” Blue eyes slid shut and he shook his head slowly, wearily. “I just can’t do it anymore.”

He was hurting bad. The blonde must have done quite a number on him. Now didn’t seem like the time to push.

“You can stay here tonight.” She said. “I’ve got a spare bedroom down the hall.”

“Thank you.” he managed, hefting that bag up and starting down the hall.

“Toews"” She called after him, the man freezing where he stood. “You gonna bring trouble my way"”

He glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes meeting her’s. “No. I promise.”

Paige gave him a stern look that told him “You damn well better not.” Finally, she gave him a curt nod.

As he started away again, she called him once more. “Toews.”

Once again, he met her eyes. “Take your damn shoes off in my house, what do you live in a barn"” ========================= That first night at Mulcahy’s parish was the best sleep Simon had in weeks. He hadn’t told the man what brought him there. He hadn’t told him of the images that stuck in his head. The screaming of his foster mother. The low, stomach turning grunts and gurgles of his Tim...the drunken, violent man who had been his foster father. The sound as the bat connected with flesh and bone and blood.

He was almost certain he’d killed him. Though, through the grapevine, he’d found out the son of a bitch lived. If he had the chance, Simon would have finished the job. Too many nights, he’d heard their fighting. Seen her with black eyes, bruises, a broken finger. Too many nights, he’d gone to bed to the music of her sobs. Even at 11, it ate him up. He might have been a child, but for years he cursed himself for not doing anything.

That night, Simon did something.

The church was quiet in the morning. The sounds of the world outside filtering in to the perfect acoustics of the chapel. Light shone in through the colorful, stained glass windows. It occurred to him that he’d never actually set foot in a church as he moved through the oaken pews, his fingers trailing upon the wood. He stepped on up the altar and gazed up a the man upon the cross. The Ingrams hadn’t exactly been practicing Catholics, though they identified that way. Even holidays, they’d neglected their faith. A big no-no, or so he’d been told.

“Did you sleep well?” Mulcahy’s voice echoed into the large room, startling the boy.

Simon whipped around, gripping the altar tight. That flight response kicking in almost immediately as he looked for exits. It took a moment for him to calm himself. He just nodded.

Mulcahy nodded with that friendly smile upon his face. “I managed to find you some clothes in the donations that should fit you. After breakfast, maybe you can go through them' See if there’s anything you like.”

Breakfast. Oh GOD, did he miss breakfast.

All throughout the day, he waited for the other shoe to drop. Mulcahy gave him little chores to do. Halfway through the day, they had cheeseburgers. The priest even complimented him on a job well done. It should have uplifted the boy, but it just made him more suspicious. As the sun set, it became apparent that this man wasn’t going to throw him out onto the streets.

Mulcahy talked to him, tried to pry more than a word or two from his young friend. It was mostly in vain, of course, but he shared about his life growing up in poverty and getting into trouble as a youth before taking his vows and choosing another path. He talked about his parishioners and how they impacted his life. Simon just listened.

Every now and again, the priest snuck in a cigarette. It seemed odd, the boy thought. A judgement the father seemed to notice. Mulcahy held up the burning butt with a frown.

“We’ve all got our vices.” He explained. “I’m a priest. Not a saint.”

It was weeks before Simon got truly comfortable living with Mulcahy. Almost two months before he really let his guard down. Mulcahy was a decent man and he treated him well. Simon helped maintain the church, working hard for the man, even beginning to enjoy the structure living there provided him.

Mulcahy took time out of his day to educate the boy. Some days, they would go to the local park and play a little basketball. It did wonders to comfort Simon. Eventually, he began laughing again. They had long talks about life and the world. Looking toward the future.

Simon had found a home. Simon felt safe once again.

May 2018 Simon rose up from the sink, water splashed upon his face running down his skin. A deep breath left the man slow and long. The past six months had been a game changer. It was difficult to fight every urge he’d always indulged, but he did it.

Living with Corrine Paige had turned out to actually be a decent situation. She was a good roommate, and when she wasn’t being a smart-ass or a hard-ass, she was actually pretty fun.

A knock at the door stole his attention away. “Yo! You ready"” her voice called out.

Simon stood up and took one last look. He was dressed in a black suit. Just the mere hint of his tattoos creeping out from the rim of his collar. He adjusted his suit jacket with a little shrug of his shoulders.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

A few minutes later, they were in the car, Simon behind the wheel. Paige had her tablet balanced on her lap. “Alright. Client’s name is Tessa Bradley. You heard of her" Young singer, climbing the charts.”

“I don’t think I’m exactly her demo.” He said with a snicker.

“Not unless you’re secretly a 14 year old girl.” Paige smirked.

“She’s 17. Bit of a wild child. Last four bodyguards bailed, citing reckless behavior and extravagant demands.” Paige read from the digital file. “Frankly, she sounds like kind of a bitch.”

Simon smirked, turning the wheel. Paige had pulled a LOT of strings, called in a lot of favors to land him a job as private security. His jobs were often one-nighters, or at most a week. The Bradley Job would be at least a month. If he was successful, longer.

“Uh oh.” Paige said. “Sounds like we got a stage mom.”

“Overbearing never-was trying to live through her vastly more talented kid"” It was more of a statement than a question.

“Bingo. Mary Bradley. 48. Former nail technician turned manager.” Paige continued. “Dollars to donuts, she’d got an iron grip on that kid’s finances...when she isn’t blowin’ it on stupid ****.”

“Sounds like a dream.” He muttered.

Paige smirked over to him. “You sure you’re ready for this"”

Simon snorted. “I’ve faced down mobsters with guns. I think I can handle a 17 year old girl. Besides. I’m good with kids.”

Paige rose her eyebrows and slowly laughter built from her until she was full on belly laughting. “Oh...sweetie. You poor, optimistic man.”

He made a face and glanced over. “What?”

She suppressed her laughter and focused ahead. “Nothin’. We’ll talk when you get home.”

It wasn’t the last of the stranger Simon would see. Over the coming months, he would pop in and out on occasion. Simon would keep scarce when the man came around, though it wasn’t always so simple. He would catch a glimpse, plaster on that fake smile, and try to strike up a conversation. Simon would remain silent and Mulcahy would always place himself between the man and the boy. Whatever else could be said about the priest, he was protective of the boy.

The pair of them sat down for dinner one night after such a visit. Silence had settled over the dinner table, the sound of silverware tapping dishes echoing throughout the kitchen. Simon couldn’t get the image of the man out of his head. That tailored, pleasant facade couldn’t hide what Simon saw in his eyes. He’d seen them before, even at 12. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. A predator.

It was odd. He wanted nothing to do with the man, cowered in his presence...yet, he wanted to know more. Like the sight of a dead body in a car wreck, he was something he both did and did not want to see. A paradoxically alluring figure.

Blue eyes turned up to Mulcahy, watching the older man eating for a moment. The curiosity was too much to ignore.

“Who is he"” Simon asked.

Mulcahy looked to the boy, dread in his eyes. He’d feared this conversation for a while now, but it could no longer be avoided.

“He’s a very powerful man.” Mulcahy told him. “A dangerous man.”

Yeah, no ****, Simon thought. “But who is he"”

“His name is Jakob Falk. He deals in information...and other sordid activities. Do you know what that means"”

Simon shrugged. “Bad stuff"”

Mulcahy smiled, but there was a sadness behind it. “Precisely. Information is the most powerful currency in the world, my son. And he collects it on everyone. There isn’t much that goes on in this city that he is unaware of.”

“So, he knows things"” Simon asked as if it were a ridiculous assertion.

“Knowing the right things about the right people can bring empires to their knees.” Mulcahy explained. “Do you remember what I told you about vices"”

“That all men have them.” Simon nodded.

“Yes. Well...he is aware of this as well. Powerful men tend to have these vices and want to keep them a secret. To have them brought into the light would be disastrous. Jakob knows how to weaponize them.”

Simon realized now exactly how dangerous such a man could be. There was no doubt in his mind that Falk knew about his foster parents and what he’d done. If the man so chose, he could have Simon’s ass in juvenile detention by the end of the day.

The boy’s brow furrowed as he mulled it over. “But...how do you know him"”

“I watched over him.” Mulcahy said. “I was the headmaster of his orphanage.”

“He’s an orphan' Like me"” Simon asked.

The priest was quiet. He just nodded. “Very much like you.” Mulcahy said distantly. “He was a troubled young man from the start. No families wanted him. When he finally came of age, Jakob chose the only path that lay before him.”

That wasn’t the whole story, Simon knew. He wasn’t stupid. He squinted at the older man.

“So' You knew each other when he was a kid. Why does he keep coming here"” Simon asked.

Mulcahy had somewhat underestimated the boy. A pained look crossed over his features. He ran his hand over his lips, letting out a deep sigh. “A few years back...I...I made some bets.”

Simon quirked a brow. “But...but aren’t priests supposed to be poor" Isn’t that part of the thing"”

“As I have said...I have my share of weaknesses.” He shook his head slowly. “I lost. I lost big. I didn’t know the money would be going to him.”

The boy considered this, his young brow furrowed as the wheels in his mind turned. “He came to get it"”

Mulcahy nodded, keeping quiet, shame in his eyes. Most of that payment came out of church donations. If anyone ever found out, he’d be ruined.

Simon nodded slowly and took in a breath as if to steel himself. “Okay. So what do we do"”

“We"” Mulcahy said, eyes narrowed. “No no no. You stay away from Jakob Falk.”

“Father, we can't just let him get away with it!” Simon demanded.

“I said no.”

Simon didn’t like his response, but could see it was pointless arguing. They just sat and ate in silence. ———— Simon recoiled as he pushed the door open. Crowds of prepubescent girls waited outside for Tessa outside, their high pitched joyous screams were damn near deafening. They were everywhere, hands reaching out for her. A bodyguard’s nightmare.

Tessa made a peace sign with both hands and let out a long “woo!” The crowd, somehow got wilder, louder. Those blue eyes alert as ever, he maneuvered the girl out into the stairwell. Their car waited, twin barricades leading right to the door. Simon did his damndest, putting himself between the crowd and the girl as best he could, and batting away grabs when he could. Absolute pandemonium.

The girl laughed as she piled into the car, Simon slamming the door and rushing around to the driver’s seat. Tessa immediately climbed up, and stood out of the sunroof. “See ya next time, Y’all!” She shouted, waving wildly to ear-splitting shrieks. Simon’s shouts to get down were drowned out by the deafening, high pitched roar of the crowd...

She plopped down into the seat and let out a breath. As the car rolled away, her entire demeanor changed. “Ugh. There ain’t enough fire in the world to get the grime from their filthy little claws off me…” She said, scrubbing hand sanitizer on herself like mad. “Why are they ALWAYS ****ing sticky' Bunch of ****ing bumpkins in this ****hole town.”

Simon’s blue eyes flicked up to the rearview,staring at the spoiled little brat. If she was his kid, he’d smack the **** out of her. But, of course...she wasn’t. Frankly, he had no idea what to talk about with her, but the silence was getting a bit uncomfortable.

“So.” He said, making the first step. “You been in the business long"” He immediately cringed. He could almost hear his teenage self tell him to **** off, so her response was almost not surprising.

Tessa looked disgusted. “Ugh.” She exhaled. “Who told you you were allowed to talk"”

Yes. Almost not surprising. His eyes narrowed into the mirror. “Excuse me"”

“Listen.” She said, that obnoxious little bad-girl sneer on face, and her dripping with condescension. “The only reason you’re here is because you piss off my mom and I think that’s funny. I’m not looking to find myself some half-assed ex-con surrogate brother. You are a punchline. Got it"” She asked him with that spiteful venom on her lips. “So, stop talking and drive the car like a good boy.”

Simon gripped the wheel tightly. It was no wonder this girl had been through a half dozen bodyguards in the past year. She was a terror. His eyes moved away from her and back on the road while she took selfies, a smug look of self-satisfaction on her face as she read the anger in his body language.

Simon stood in the elevator, steeling himself for the day ahead of him. The kid didn’t cheap out on accommodations, that was for sure. The penthouse had to cost an arm and a leg, he thought. It was the kind of place Tahlia would have just salivated over, richly appointed, high class, the ultimate in luxury. To him, it was a little bit ludicrous.

The ding announced his arrival on her floor. And it was her floor. The penthouse took up the entire top floor of the hotel. Because apparently, a teenager needed that amount of space. Simon stepped off and immediately heard the screaming argument between Tessa, her mother and a man he didn’t know.

“You better shut that little bitch’s mouth before I do it for her!” He called out, backing into the room.

“**** you!” Tessa shrieked back at him.

Whoever he was, the guy was built solid. He clearly took care of himself, but something about him just screamed of insecurity. For all his muscle, his tank-top clad form bore no visible scars. This guy had probably never seen a fair fight in his life. Simon appraised him silently as he approached, running a hand over his shaved head. He lifted his chin in greeting.

“What’s up"” He said to Simon, that faux tough-guy tone in his voice. “You the new guard"”

Simon remained passive, unimpressed. He could destroy this guy in three hits if he so chose. And something about this guy made him want to. Simon nodded once slowly.

The stranger looked him over, clad in that suit he hated, eyes hidden behind a pair of aviators. Simon didn’t look intimidating to him. Any hint of lean muscle was well-hidden beneath that outfit. If anything, he thought this new bodyguard was scrawny. He gestured to the couch in the main living area.

“Take a seat.” He offered. “Tess will be out in a minute.”

Simon strode over and took a seat, the brawny douchebag taking one across from him, making sure to show off his muscles as he sat.

“Everything okay up there"” Simon asked him.

The guy scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Little **** is runnin’ that big ****in’ mouth again. Oughta keep her thoughts to herself.”

“What thoughts would those be?”

He narrowed his eyes at Simon, hoping to intimidate him. “What’s your name"”

“Simon Toews.” He responded. “You"”

“Tony.”

“You her father"” Simon asked.

Tony snorted and shook his head. “No.”

Simon slowly pieced it together. “Mom’s boyfriend"”

“Yeah, somethin’ like that.” Tony nodded.

One corner of Simon’s mouth upticked. “Somethin’ like that.” He repeated the man’s words.

Silence hung between them, Simon’s face unreadable behind those glasses. He enjoyed how uncomfortable he made this guy. The insecurity raging within this alpha male wannabe was hilarious to him.

“So.” Tony said. “You some kinda tough guy.”

Simon smirked and glanced toward the sound of stomping and muffled voices. “Real tough guys generally don’t go around telling people how tough they are.”

Tony grinned and nodded, like they were bonding or something. “Yeah!” he pointed with a chuckle. “I feel that! Listen. That girl’s got a big mouth and bad attitude. You ever need to smack some respect into her, you just gotta steer clear of her face, yeah"”

Simon was still, his fists clenching. “You put your hands on her"”

Tony didn’t see death sitting a few feet away and just laughed. “Gotta do what you gotta do, y’know"”

“I do.” Simon nodded slowly. “I once knew a guy. Tough guy. Had this wife with a mean streak and a uh...difficult attitude.”

“Sounds familiar.” Tony said with that slimy grin of his.

“She used to have to hide her black eyes behind a pair of sunglasses whenever he beat the **** out of her.” Simon told him.

Tony chuckled. “God, I wish.”

Simon’s restraint was being sorely tested. He wanted more than anything to lunge over and beat the life out of this dirtbag. Instead he kept his voice level, his rage tempered.

“See...he made a mistake.”

“Yeah' What' He leave the broad with a gun"” Tony asked.

“No.” Simon told him. “He hired me to protect her.”

Tony suddenly didn’t look so amused. He got the distinct feeling he’d just been threatened. Before he could say or do anything about it, Tessa came down the stairs in a huff, dressed and tressed to the nines.

“Let’s go.” she demanded.

Simon stood up, giving Tony one last look before following her over to the elevator. Simon stood in front, removing his glasses and locking eyes with the man as the doors slid shut, Tessa immediately getting on her phone.

Simon stood backstage, leaning up against the hallway wall, waiting for her to finish whatever saccharine, phoney interview Tessa was doing now. The girl certainly knew how to play her audience. Those people just ate it right up.

If she had been around 12 years ago, he was sure he'd have been subjected to the Tess show with Cici. Those inane but catchy tunes blaring everywhere they'd go, sticking in his head like a bad migraine that he just couldn't shake.

No, he told himself. Cici had better taste than that, even back then. It was a lie, of course. The little girl loved her some High School Musical. It was impossible to get away from it. Try as he might, she never quite took to the 80's ballads, 70's rock, and Johnny Cash tunes he tried to get her into. Though, she DID enjoy some Zep, "Immigrant Song" being a fav.

Cici. The thought of her brought a smile to his face. It had felt like such a long time since he'd smiled thinking about his daughter, he barely recognized the feeling. Usually, it just brought pain. Loss. He'd only had her a relatively short time, but there wasn't a second of it, he'd trade. And there wasn't anything he wouldn't give to have her back.

The sound applause brought him back to the moment, Tessa stepping off-stage with that big, sweet smile, dropping it immediately as stage-hands rushed up and set to unclipping her mic...Damn, she was good. She kept up the glamour exactly as long as she needed to. It was almost impressive.

Simon approached her with her jacket, holding it for her to slip into.

"Ugh!" She sighed. "I need a drink."

"I can stop somewhere on the way back. Get you a soda." He said, voice devoid of any discernible emotion.

"Uh, No." She said in that obnoxious little sing-song that dragged out the end of the sentence. "I need a DRINK. Vodka, tequila, rum. ****ing SOMETHING strong."

"Yeah. That's not gonna happen." Simon dismissed her.

She adjusted her hair, looking back over her shoulder, aghast. "Excuse me?"

Simon smiled to one of their contacts as they passed, accepting an envelope. Something to deliver to her people the next time they met.

"Who do you think you are, telling me what I can and cannot do?" She asked incredulously.

"I'm the guy in charge of keeping you safe. And you're not getting wrecked and into **** on my watch." Simon was all business, checking the hallway, running over the path to their exit in his head.

"How DARE you!" She said as if he'd asked her something inappropriate. "Let's get this straight, *Simon*, you're here-"

"Listen. I dig the bitchy mean-girl thing. Really. It's very cute." He told her. "But we've got a schedule to keep. So, you wanna bark" Do it while walking."

Tessa searched for JUST the right comeback, but it wouldn't come. Usually, they just cowered and quit. She wasn't used to this. She wouldn't go without SOME duress, of course. The starlet let out a disgusted groan. "This is SUCH bull ****."

"Yeah. Life's full of little tragedies." He said, dripping with sarcasm.

"Yeah, well, you're gonna be living one when I get you thrown out on your ass, you trailer trash." She muttered.

Simon stopped and glanced back, a dangerous look in his eye. "What was that?"

Tessa recoiled like she expected to get hit, but stayed resolute. Simon could see that in her eyes. It didn't take a genius to figure out where she'd picked that up. She kept her head high and just passed him, heading down the hall. Simon watched the girl go, keeping quiet.

Once again, there was a massive crowd awaiting them as they stepped outside. The studio valet had the car waiting and a few armed officers were struggling to keep the crowd at bay. There would be no autograph line tonight. Simon placed a hand at her back and ushered her forth, trying to move quickly.

"Come on." he told her, moving briskly.

It was deafening, oddly claustrophobic. It felt like flood waters were just waiting for the damn to burst and sweep them away at any moment. It was a powderkeg. One little spark...

"HEY, TESSA!" A male voice called out. "**** you, whore!"

Simon didn't see where the bottle came from, couldn't here which direction the voice originated. All he knew was that something sailed right past his ear and shattered upon the metal fencing keeping the crowd back. Screams rose up and the pushing began. A few of the security officers abandoned their posts moving into the crowd.

He knew what would happen next before it did. Those who weren't trying to run were rushing in. Simon wrapped his arms around Tessa from behind shielding her as the bodies piled in at them. A mob, even one formed out of admiration was a dangerous thing. They didn't think about those around them, nor their own size and weight as they descended upon the object of their admiration. Simon pushed forward as the hands grabbed and pulled and scratched. His shoulder brought to bear against the throng, moving slowly forward in the symphony of shrieking teens and tweens.

Even in that chaos, Simon could feel Tessa clinging tightly to him, her own screams of terror drowned out in the sounds and buried against his chest. That pretense of the tough girl dropped pretty damn quickly now that her life was on the line.

Simon lurched forth, a body landing on his back. Whoever it was beat at him wildly, screaming "Let her go! Let her go!" in a shrill voice. Some dumb kid, way too fired up on hormones, adrenaline and sugar. He didn't want to hurt her, so he tried to shrug her off as best he could, but she was on him like a tick on a dog. Finally, one of the officers grabbed her and pulled, but took Simon with her just enough for Tessa to be exposed. An adult male, doughy, unkept and clearly under the influence shoved through the crowd. His arms wrapped around her waist as he pulled her away.

Simon stumbled forward as the girl was finally removed from his back, to his horror seeing Tessa being dragged away, a doughy hand clamped over her mouth, terror in her eyes. He snapped right to action, shoving his way through the crowd Tessa reached out to him as best she could.

Simon grabbed her hand and tried to tug her free, but the man just kept holding on. The abductor wasn't giving her up without a fight. It was a poor decision. Simon drew back his fist and threw a vicious right, straight into his face. He didn't have to hear it, her FELT the nose break from the impact. He saw the blood burst as he landed another punch. The man's grip loosened then. He was done. Simon ripped Tessa from his arms and pulled her to him, the cops clearing enough of a path for them to get to the car. He put her inside as carefully as he could.

"Lock the door!" He ordered her and slammed it shut. Tessa scrambled immediately, making sure every one of the rear doors was locked, taking panicked, strained breaths.

A teenaged boy climbed up onto the hood of the car and began kicking at the windshield. As his leg lifted up to kick again, Simon grabbed the other and yanked it out from under him, the young hooligan faceplanting into the roof with a solid thud. He dragged the kid off and threw him down onto the pavement. Quickly, he did a full on 70's cop movie slide across the hood and to the driver's side. They'd gotten lucky. Nobody had tried to climb in through the driver's side.

Reinforcements arrived and cleared a path for them to drive. Simon hit the gas and took off into the night.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

Corrine Paige was livid. The one-armed detective paced around the room, running her hand through her dark curls in frustration. Simon sat before her upon a couch, looking a tired and more than a little bored. Mary Bradley's rented penthouse was richly appointed with a beautiful view of the city, though neither of them was exactly appreciating it now. It had been a long night and an even longer morning. It wasn't long before word spread of the violent crowds following the girl's late night appearance. Footage of Simon taking down a teenage boy from several different angles played out over the news. It was not a good look, Corrine decided.

Simon sighed, leaning forward wearily on his elbows. "Look. It was chaos. I had people grabbin' and clawin' at me from all angles and then this guy gets up there and starts tryin' to kick in the windshield. What am I supposed to do' Reason with him?"

Paige's brows rose, a little laugh. "No, you're right, that car needed an indent in the shape of his face on the roof. Good call." She SO badly wanted to cross her arms in that moment, but settled on placing her hand upon on her hip. "You could have pulled him down without hurting him. That boy's parents are pressing charges."

Simon scoffed. "Yeah, well, maybe they should spend more time disciplining the little bastard..."

"You broke his nose and fractured his eye socket." Corrine leveled her unamused gaze upon him, almost daring him to speak.

"I was tryin' to protect her." He muttered, shaking his head.

Paige sighed, her fingers pinching together at the bridge of her nose. He had a point. He'd done an exemplary job of protecting his charge. And it wasn't like she didn't know what she was getting into with him. Simon was not subtle. He wasn't a scalpel. Simon was a hand grenade. She shouldn't be surprised that he'd hauled off and laid an attacker out in a riot.

Their conversation ended when Mary Bradley, her boy-toy Tony, and her assistant came in, phone to her ear. "Yes." She said to the other end of the call. "Excellent. Thank you."

Mary didn't bother greeting them. She barely even looked up as she ended the call and went right to texting. Simon and Corrine shared a glance. Neither of them was a huge fan of Tessa's mother. Frankly, Corrine often stuffed the urge to break a bottle over the bitch's head. But, that might not be great for business.

"I talked to my lawyers." Mary said, disinterestedly. "The kid's family is willing to drop charges if we pay his hospital bills and kick a little extra their way."

She seemed a little too casual about all of it. Rich people, Corrine thought. No way could she just blow that kind of scratch like it was nothing. If she ever did, Corrine was fairly certain her Mama would come back from the grave and slap her silly.

Paige cleared her throat and stepped forward. "Ms. Bradley, I'm very sorry about what ha-"

"Why?" Mary asked, looking perplexed.

Corrine was unprepared for the question and just blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Yes, I heard that part." Mary waved her off. "But why' You can't buy this kind of publicity."

Simon looked up, his expression bordering on anger. Had she really just said that. This bitch's daughter was almost kidnapped and...god knew what else. The girl was terrified and in danger and her mother seemed to think it was all theater.

"Well..." Corrine, stepped forward all the same. "We'll be in touch with the security teams at the venues from now on. Draw up multiple extraction routes."

Mary glanced up with a crooked eyebrow. She stared at Paige as if she just did not get it. "That won't be necessary."

"Excuse me?" Simon said, rising from the couch. Paige could tell from his body language that he was agitated and on the verge of something stupid. She held up her hand as if to say 'Let me handle it.'

"With all due respect, Ma'am." Corrine said, turning to Mary. "We were hired to protect your daughter. The crowds make that difficult."

Mary sighed heavily and gave a withering glance to Tony. The sketchy man just shrugged in agreement. Mary put on her most condescending little smile. "Listen. Sweetie?"

Paige narrowed her eyes. "Detective Paige." Sure she was retired, and it wasn't an official title anymore, but...**** this lady.

"Detective." Mary corrected herself. "Let me explain how this works. Tessa is an entertainer. She's in the public eye, and the more the public sees of her, the more people that show up, the longer she gets to STAY in the public eye."

A muscle below Corrine's jaw shifted as she clenched her teeth, her knuckles cracking as her fist tightened into a little ball. "They're a danger to her life, Ms. Bradley."

"Well, that's why your trailer trash friend is there, isn't it?" Mary said, dripping with that condescendingly sweet tone. "If he can't handle it, I'll find someone who can."

"You can't be serious." Corrine said. "You approve of this?"

Simon was fuming, like a balloon about the burst. His eyes narrowed, his body tensed and those battered fists clenched tightly. Mary Bradley didn't see death five feet from where she stood. She finally tucked her phone away and stepped up, looking Corrine in the eye.

"Sweetheart." She said. "Who do you think told them where to find her?"

"You sold out your own daughter?" Simon asked, but it came out in a snarl.

Mary scoffed at him like he was a child. "I guaranteed her the sympathy of millions. This is how it works in this business. Don't like it' Go guard a mall. But don't think, for one second, that you get to judge me. I do what?s necessary for that little brat, and I'd do it a thousand times over."

Corrine was almost tempted to step aside and let Simon do what he wanted. Almost. She turned to him and gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. He didn't like it, but he followed her lead.

"If you'll excuse me. We have a meeting with a record exec." Mary said, scooping up her jacket. "I trust you can see yourselves out?"

Paige nodded to the woman and watched her and her boyfriend leave. It took a moment for her to process what she'd heard. All the slimy, disgusting details of it. It made her sick to her stomach to even think about.

"God, I hate that bitch." Corrine spat.

"Should've let me slug her." Simon said.

"Yeah. That would've been smart." Paige snorted. "That woman would see us out on our asses without a penny to our names for the rest of our lives."

"Still." Simon said. "It'd have been worth it."

Corrine lowered herself onto the couch, her body drooping with a heavy sigh. Her hand ran down over her lips as her head shook. "Yeah..." She let out a bitter little chuckle. "What do we do about this?"

Simon stepped over to the large window, staring out over the city. "Maybe we should quit. Find another gig."

Paige laughed. "Yeah. Right."

"I'm serious." Simon told her with a furrowed brow.

Corrine didn't buy it a second. She just rolled her eyes and glanced up at him, a wry, knowing smirk on her face. "No you aren't."

"How do you know?" He asked, annoyance in his voice.

"Because that's not you." She said. "Never has been. You see danger, you run right into it. You see someone...like Tessa Bradley....like Tahlia Faras...like Lyla Cotter, " she said, "Hell, like that farmer chick you were shacked up with. You see them in trouble and you HAVE to help them. You're the big hero."

"I'm not a hero." He demanded grimly. "That's not me. I just get pulled into this ****. Maybe I'm tired of it."

"Maybe." Paige shrugged. "But I don't buy it." She glanced his way. "I think you heard her loud and clear. If we bail, she'll just find someone else. And someone else probably won't give as much of a **** as you. Someone else might get that girl killed."

"That woman's gonna get her killed." Simon insisted. "Why should I stick my neck out?"

"Because." She said simply, hitting every word for impact. "It's who. You. Are."

Simon was quiet a long moment before he obstinately shook his head. "No."

Paige stood up and leveled her gaze at him. "You want to pretend you don't care" Go right ahead. But I don't buy it. Sorry." She said, picking up her purse and slinging it over her shoulder. "I'll meet you at the house later. I've got some running around to do."

She started toward the door, stopping with her hand upon the knob. She didn't look back at him, but still addressed him. "Simon?"

He glanced her way, remaining silent.

"If it wasn't you. If you weren't the guy I said you are...I wouldn't be here." She said, throwing a look back of her shoulder. "I wouldn't be here at all. Just think about that."

Paige opened the door and stepped out into the hall, leaving him to think about that. They didn't talk about that day very often. Neither of them enjoyed thinking of it. She'd lost an arm and a career and he'd lost...everything. But it was because of him that, because he took care of her until the ambulance arrived that she even had a future. Despite the **** she gave him, despite the fact that she found him irritating, he would always be a hero in her eyes. Even if he didn't see it.

He needed a drive, just something to blow off steam. He climbed behind the wheel of the black Mercedes, no destination in mind, just a long, quiet drive to clear his head. Hero. What a bunch of bull****. As far as he was concerned, Simon was just a guy with *****y luck. Paige had made it sound like he actively looked for the situations he often ended up in. Like it was a choice. To hell with that. That wasn't him.

Not at all.

The lights of the city glowed bright in the dark night sky, a patchwork of whites and yellows and neon, reflecting off the sleek lines of the car. The one time Simon dared turn on the radio, he heard Tessa’s voice blaring out through the speakers and immediately shut it off. “I need a drink.” He thought, and for once it wasn’t referring to booze. Ahead, he could see the glowing signage and fluorescent lighting of a convenience store, almost violently cutting through the dark, beckoning him to it. The Mercedes slipped into a spot, and Simon stepped out, walking into the store. The lights were somehow brighter once inside. God, he hated fluorescent lighting. Clad in the shirt, vest, and pants of his suit, he wandered the aisles before grabbing himself a drink from the fridge.

Tahlia had been wandering, rather aimlessly of late. On her own, and slowly divesting herself of her usual distractions, she'd found herself out of her usual haunts. Pulling the Spitfire over, she parked, not sparing a glance for the glossy Mercedes in the next spot, and walked into the convenience store. The place was small, cheap and quick - and she looked a little out of place in designer ripped jeans, and a flowing shirt that somehow managed to cling to her generous curves. She hadn't thought to bring anything to drink, and though the day was cooler than anything had been in a while, driving with the top down still left her thirsty. Grabbing a bottle of fruit-infused water, she turned and made her way to the counter, a little in her own head.

Simon made his way to the counter,bottle in hand and glancing up at a pack of smokes. It had felt like years since he lit one up, and given the past week, the temptation was strong. He hadn’t even consciously decided to quit, it just worked out that way. He’d have figured he’s miss it by now. Ah, hell, he thought. No sense in ruining a good streak. With a sigh, he just moved on with the sale, forcing a smile for the clerk’s benefit..

If he was more observant, he'd have heard the red-soled heels clicking across the tile as she stepped up behind him, not really paying attention, herself. He'd have smelled her perfume. He’s have sensed her there and glanced back. And he’d have high tailed it out of there as discreetly as possible. But tonight, Simon Toews was not on his guard. He slid over the bills to pay for the bottle of water clutched in his right hand, reaching back and tucking his wallet in a back pocket, running on autopilot.

"Your change sir." The clerk said.

"Huh?" Simon glanced up, still not all there. "Oh yeah. Keep it, man." He nodded and put on that empty smile again. He could have chosen any other shop that night. Any other convenience store where she wasn’t. Simon wasn’t a big believer in fate or the existence of forces outside of his control, but tonight was sure as hell about to make him question it.

He took his bottle and spared a nod to the guy. "Have a good one." With that, he spun around, almost bumping into the woman behind him. "Oh, ****, sorry!"

Tahlia took a quickstep back, trying to avoid being stepped on, or run over. She'd been looking over the store, and found herself staring at a brand of beer she rarely saw anymore. One that brought to mind a long-destroyed factory, and cold chinese food. A life she'd thought, maybe, she could have been content with. But life had made other choices.

Ladies and Gentlemen, we have lost cabin pressure.

It took a second, but the face that greeted him stopped his heart. It felt like he'd been dealt a massive blow to the chest by Mike Tyson. His breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening in panic. He hadn't planned on this ever happening, let alone tonight. Some naive part of him thought he'd be able to dodge her forever and go about his days lying to himself that it ever happened. That he could have pushed that gnawing guilt and pain deep down. Hidden forever.

Pale jade eyes flashed, ready to give the guy a piece of her mind. Recognition came as she was opening her mouth, and stole the words right out of it. The face staring back at her, looking just as shocked as she was certain she did, was one she never thought to see again. Some part of her had wondered if he were dead, or had gone back to that little farm in that one horse town he'd told her about.

Stunned, she nearly dropped the bottle, but managed to recover. Still, there was no help for the breathless whisper that was all she could manage. "Simon?"

His eyes clenched shut as he clung to her with everything he had. "Me too." He whispered. For a long moment, he just let that moment settle. Romance wasn't on his mind, but whatever she was, Tahlia was his friend. Paige was alright, but she was often about as cuddly and sweet as a wasp’s nest toward him. Losing Tahlia, and everything that followed may have improved his health and general well being...but it was a lonely existence. He'd missed this.

"I'm sorry." He said, holding her back a bit. "I'm sorry I went the way I did. You deserved better than that. Far better."

"It wasn't...what you thought. Not then." She couldn't deny it had become what he suspected, It still was...at least, assuming Eddie didn't do exactly what she was most afraid of. He'd come to terms with what had happened. If it hadn't been that night, it would have probably happened eventually. Eventually, she would get another job. That job would require her to do things he couldn't live with anymore, and they'd be here anyhow. Though, it did strike a chord that he'd been wrong. At least...that night.

"I was trying...broke contracts. I went back to The Line...I wanted..." She sniffled, and shook her head. It didn't matter what she'd wanted. Not anymore. Without a word, she took one of his hands, and slid it up under her shirt, just along the ribs on her left side. He would feel the scarring - the oak leaf burned into her skin. She just hoped he remembered. He almost recoiled to tell her to slow down when he put his hand under her shirt...but then he felt it.

"You...you branded yourself?" he asked

There was no way she could miss the flinch, but he hadn't let her go, and neither had she. "The ink wouldn't stay...unless I thought about it, it kept...seeping out. So I...I got the brand." She kept her gaze lowered. "I didn't...I thought maybe the physical pain would make it hurt less. It did, for a little. But I never forgot. I didn't want to..." Alone, away from her usual areas, she let out a breath, and let go of her glamour for the first time in ages.

One corner of his mouth upturned as she let go. The lopsided smirk that was his and his alone took over. "I'd almost forgot you can do that."

"You used to love me this way..." She chanced a hesitant smile, looking up at him from beneath her now-crimson bangs. "I'm sorry, Simon...I tried. I really did. I just...I don't think I understood then...."

For months he would have killed for this apology. But now that she was here...he didn't want it. His hand came up, trying to halt her. "Tahlia...we were different people then. I was different..." He trailed off a bit, lost in his thoughts for just a moment. "I think...I think we were both confused about what we wanted...who we were..." He let out a long, shuddering sigh. "We were going through a lot. I was...raw. Confused. And when I saw you with him...and that jealousy showed up...I didn't know how to handle it."

Few things had ever hurt him as much as that night. The old him would have gone to war...but after everything with Vicelli and then with Kate and Virgil...he just didn’t have the fight in him anymore.

"I knew that if I stuck around, I'd have become...THAT guy again. I'd have done something...bad." He didn't need to explain to her what. She'd seen what happened with Vicelli. It wasn't hard to imagine what he'd do to the man who stolen the woman he’d loved.

"It...I don't want to think about it. I would have lost one of you. And I don't..." She'd seen what Simon could do, yes, and she'd seen what Eddie was capable of since then. "I guess, I lost you anyway. It...it nearly killed me. I guess, in my own way, I did what you did...I ran away. Only I just...went back to what I thought worked. Only it didn't, this time. I think I'm done, Simon. Whether Eddie comes back or not." She hadn't mentioned the giant Selkie, not directly, not until then. But he'd threaded through the conversation. "At least...I want to be."

"Do you think, maybe...Killer, I don't want to lose you again. I need a friend in the worst way, and there isn't anyone I trust here as much as you..."

Simon smiled and rested his forehead to her's, a hand settling at the back of her head. His eyes slid shut, just enjoying the closeness. "Absolutely.” It came out as a relieved breath. Suddenly, he wondered exactly what he’d been dreading the past year. Suddenly, he felt a weight lift from his shoulders and he couldn’t help the smile the graced his features. “I'm not gonna lie, it's been pretty lonely. The closest thing I have to friends are the PI's Paige is working with. I'm hanging out with a bunch of cops."

Forgive her, the burst of laughter caught her off-guard. "You" Hanging out with cops" Oh, Killer...you have changed..." Shaking her head carefully, so as not to dislodge anything, she let out a slow breath, and relaxed against him. He'd always been her safe place. "What's she got you doing?"

He forgot he hadn't told her...though, if she saw any footage of the other night (or of Tessa Bradley in general the past few weeks), she could have seen him in the background. "You know who Tessa Bradley is?"

"Some little teen pop star, right?" It was her business to know these things, although the music wasn't her style and she tended to pay less attention to female celebrities much less than the men, for obvious reasons. She shuddered as he stepped back, and clutched at his hand. If she was holding him, he couldn't vanish.

He had to admit he found it endearing and just let her grasp onto him. "That's the one. Well, guess who got assigned as her bodyguard?"

And he was ever so happy about it, too. It certainly wasn't a living nightmare that never seemed to end! Not at all!

"Oh...oh Killer...I'm so sorry." She didn't need to see much to know the girl was a nightmare. Rumors spread, and Tahlia still had access to the right ears, and the right lips. "Does it at least pay ok" Can you free-lance?"

"Actually...yeah. It pays pretty well." He chuckled. "She's a pain in the ass...but she's a walk in the park compared to the mother. I've never wanted to hit a woman before..."

"I'd heard something about her...we don't run in exactly the same circles, obviously." For a moment she considered asking Adder to hire him away, but that...wasn't necessarily smart. No, if things went horribly wrong, she wanted to make sure Simon was well out of it. "So that's what you're up to these days...I might actually have to check out one of her shows..."

That was an image...."Yeah, hope you like songs about friendship and high school drama. Talented kid, but...writing needs some work." He laughed. To be fair, the girl had pipes. She just didn't have to experience to sing about anything more than the teeny pop garbage.

"But yeah, she's obnoxious. I had to clock some old pervert who tried to grab her the other night. Be on the lookout for THAT one. It's bound to be all over the tabloids." He said. "Then, she's got this step dad who pretty much admitted to me he hits her...I had to kinda put him in his place and...."

SImon sighed and shook his head wearily. "Paige says I've got some bull**** hero complex or something."

"You do." It was almost immediate, and delivered with a wry smile. "I mean, probably not for the same reason, but...she's not wrong" She'd have to remember to ask Bret to get her a copy of that one. And see about getting her tickets to the girls next show. And earplugs. She didn't actually intend to listen to such drek, but a VIP pass might give her the chance to make Simon's life a little bit easier.

Well, that took the wind out of his sails. He let out an exasperated sigh and stepped back, dejected. "Oh, Jesus Christ...not you too."

Oh no, she wasn't letting him get away that easy. Taking two steps, she wrapped herself around his ribs, and smirked up at him. "The motel, the fire...those people in the dustbowl...Paige...even with Cotter..." She bit her tongue, knowing that was a sore subject. "You're not a cold-hearted man, Simon...you never have been. Why..." She took a deep breath. "Why do you think I fell for you so hard?"

It didn't sit well with him, that title. He didn't want it at all, despite all evidence to the contrary. "I just fall into ****. And then...I see something wrong and...what the hell am I gonna do' Turn my back" I don't WANT it, and I sure as hell don't need it. That's not heroism. It's...bad luck."

"Yeah, you fall into it. But a lot of people would walk away. You don't. Even when it costs you." Letting go of him, she took a step back, a bit embarrassed that she'd admitted as much as she had. Taking a long swallow of her water, she glanced back up at him. "Why did you come to the hotel, that night...?"

"You asked. And I'm good at burning things." His talent for deflecting with humor hadn’t diminished.

"Yeah, but you didn't need to. We'd ****ed a few times, sure. But you would have found another piece of ass quick enough. You carried me out of there, lit the place on fire...you could have dropped me on a corner, or at the Inn. You took me home. You..call it what you will, Killer...you aren't the type to walk away from a damsel in distress..." "That's a little dramatic..." He chuckled. Try as he might, he had to admit...she wasn't wrong. "But maybe you have a point."

"Of course I have a point. I'm not just a pretty face..." Tahlia scoffed, a half smile lingering on her lips. He graced her with that easy smile as he leaned back against the tree. It was so easy, just to fall back into old habits. But he was right, they'd both changed. Still, there were things...things she needed him to know. "Simon...I meant what I said, after...after you got shot."

Simon glanced at the ground a moment to watch his toe move a little pebble around before turning up to her. That twinge of guilt was back with a vengeance. "I know. I did too."

"I still...I guess I still do, maybe I always will. But it's different now. It's been...well I guess we both grew up a little. But...it’s true what they say: you never forget your first."

Tessa stared out the window as cars, buildings, and people whipped on by. Simon eyed her a moment in the rearview. She'd been quiet the past few days since the incident, keeping mostly to herself. He had to admit, it was a welcome reprieve from the constant yammering on her phone and the incessantly bad attitude she usually put on around him...but something had changed in her. She was afraid. Not that he could blame her. It wasn't every day you found out your own mother was willing to put your life at risk to drum up publicity.

Eventually, the silence got to be just too oppressive. Simon reached over and flicked on the radio The voice of Chris Cornell singing "Shadow On The Sun" radiated from the speakers, and Simon settled in. Tessa's eyes snapped forward, annoyance written all over her face. Simon did his level best to just ignore it.

"Turn this crap off." She demanded.

Simon smirked to himself and reached over, turning it up.

"Look, *** hole. I don't feel like listening to your sad old bastard music, alright' Turn it off!" She shrieked.

Simon began quietly singing along as he made a turn. It absolutely infuriated the girl, but at least it seemed to take her mind off of things. She slumped back in her seat with a disgusted sigh and glared out the window. He could barely hide the amused smirk on his face, glancing back at her.

For a long moment, she just sat there, hate-****ing everything in sight as they passed. Finally, she turned back to him "What even IS this ****?"

"It's called music. You should try it sometime."

Tessa laughed sarcastically and rolled her eyes, turning her attention back outside as he muttered something under her breath. She surprised him as the silence that followed didn't last long.

"Who is this?" She asked, a bit of the edge leaving her tone.

"Audioslave." He responded. "Chris Cornell. One of the best voices in rock history."

Tessa snorted. "The best?"

"One of 'em." He asserted.

"Doesn't say much for rock history, does it?" She jabbed.

"Well, there aren't any computerized pitch changes to hide the singer's lack of talent, so I can see why *you* might think that."

The girl's brows rose incredulously. "Excuse me" I happen to have an AMAZING voice. I don't NEED computers to sound great. And I sure as hell don't need to drown it out with guitars!"

"You don't need to." Simon nodded. "So, what?s the deal" You just LIKE to...or?"

He knew he was just poking the bear and probably could have just let her be sullen. But what was the fun in that"

"I do what the record company wants. They want auto-tuning, they're gonna do it." She defended herself.

"Wow. That's some artistic integrity you've got there." he said, the sarcasm dripping in his voice.

"Tell you what, Simon." She said. "When you're running with a million 30 million dollar contract and dealing with your mother and her *** hole boyfriend as your managers, you can talk to me about artistic integrity."

Well, damn. Could've gone without that little guilt trip. Subtly, he flicked the controls on the steering wheel, turning the volume down a bit.

"She always been like that?" he asked, his tone becoming less antagonistic.

"What' A straight up opportunistic bitch?" Tessa spat back.

"Sure." He nodded.

Tessa glanced out the window, eyeing a little girl walking with her mother, hand in hand. "No. She actually used to be kind of decent. A bit intense...but...not like this."

"The money get to her?" Simon asked.

"I think so?" Tessa shrugged. "Plus, I think she never had the talent or voice to make it herself. So..."

"She's jealous. And being in control of you is as close as she's going to get to the spotlight." Simon finished for her. It was a common tale of child stars, from what he'd heard. Overzealous parents with no discernible talent of their own living vicariously through their kids and losing sight of reality, running their kids and their careers into the ground.

Tessa glanced his way, unsure of his new tactic, and unwilling as of yet to let her guard down. "Yeah. Yeah, probably."

"Well, I'm gonna tell you something, and if you tell her I said it, I'll deny it...but your mother's a lowlife." He said. "If I didn't live by a strict code of honor, I'd take great pleasure in smacking the everloving **** out of her."

For the first time since they'd met, she actually smiled, a little laugh escaping her. The corners of his mouth tugged upwards into a grin. "From now on, I've got your back. No matter what bull **** she tries, I won't let anyone lay a hand on you ever again. Cool?"

The girl looked a little confused, but not at all disappointed. "Cool." She nodded.

That self-satisfied grin remained on Simon's face as they sat, driving. It was then he heard shuffling from behind. Tessa leaned over the seats and reached forward and turned up the radio without a word said, letting the song blast out.

Simon moved around backstage as Tessa was performing for a packed audience. He was keeping his eye on every aspect of the event, trying to run down a production assistant as they were going about their business.

"Excuse me." He called out to a girl in her twenties wearing a headset. She was distracted, but turned to him.

"What can I do for you?"

"I need you to check on the situation outside. North exit." he requested.

She let out a put-upon sigh and started away. "Look, I don't have time-"

"If we get out there and there's another mob awaiting us, you're going to wish you made the time." He said firmly. "Check the exit."

She glared up at him and pulled on her headset. "Jerry, can you check the north exit for me" Yeah, for the girl." The young woman crossed her arms, staring daggers at the man before her, but he didn't seem to care. He had bigger fish to fry tonight.

Slowly, her face softened, melting into a concerned grimace as the color drained from her complexion. It was all Simon had to see to know exactly what the scene awaiting them would be.

"It's-" she began.

"Yeah." Simon nodded. "We'll need another exit. Who's your chief of security?"

"Mr. Desmond."

"Great. Take me to him."

Simon followed her through the busy backstage, dodging crew members as they passed. As they ascended the metal staircase to the security head's office, he glanced down. Tessa was belting her heart out for those people, and damned if they didn't love her for it. Off-stage, she was unhappy, withdrawn, and a bit miserable. But there, in front of 30,000 screaming fans, singing her heart out, she was alive.

The door opened and a rotund man in an illfitting uniform sat before a wall of screens, sucking back on an extra large soft drink. One of the screens had a rerun of some 70's cop show playing. The PA knocked and peered in. "Mr. Desmond?"

Desmond wiped his pudgy, greasy fingers on his stained shirt, barely glancing back. "Yeah?"

"Mr. Toews asked to speak to you?" It was more of a question than a statement.

"Who?"

"Tessa's bodyguard." She explained.

"Oh. Right, Whatever." He mumbled, waving them in.

Simon hated the guy immediately on sight. Something about the careless, slovenly way he carried himself. This guy was there for a paycheck and nothing else. Simon moved toward him, eying the screens.

"Help you?" The fat man muttered.

"We're going to need an exit." Simon told him.

"You've got one." He pointed at the screen showing the already gathered mob. If looks could kill, Simon's glare would have splattered the man all over the room.

"Do you see all those people?" Simon asked incredulously.

"Eeeyup." Desmond said, clearly disinterested.

"A few days ago, my client was attacked in a mob like that. That's NOT happening again." Simon was furious, but the guy clearly didn't see death two inches from his face.

"Look," Desmond rolled his eyes and swivelled around to face him. "The girl's mother or manager or whatever called ahead and told us the plan. You got a problem with it' Take it up with her."

"Mary Bradley set this up?"

Desmond gestured to him as if to say "Get it now?" Simon could feel his blood boiling. In his time, he'd met countless despicable people, but none of them fueled his rage quite like Mary Bradley.

"You done?" the non-plussed security head asked dismissively.

"I need another exit." Simon demanded.

"Again." Desmond rolled his eyes. "You have a problem, talk to-"

Simon grabbed him by the shirt and rolled him back against a wall, his right fist cocked back and ready to slug him. But he caught himself, seeing the sudden rush of fear in the man's eyes. Beating the living hell out of this guy wouldn't make Tessa any safer. In fact, it would probably cause more problems for the girl. Didn't mean he couldn't use that fear though.

"Does it look like I'm asking?" Simon growled.

Desmond's chest was heaving, his entire body shaking. "W-w-west st-staircase! Take it down, th-here's garage! Lets out on the other side! Okay"!"

Simon shoved him back into the seat, letting him go and stormed out and down the stairs just as Tessa finished her final encore. He pulled out his phone and told his contact with the car the new plan just as the girl walked up, chugging a water bottle and wiping the sweat from her brow. Simon hung up and handed her a jacket. It was a lot chillier when you weren't under stage lights and pyrotechnics.

"God *damn*, did you see that?" She said, beaming as assistants converged and took the mic pack off of her. "Haven't had a show like that in months!"

Simon's smile was genuine but distracted. "We've gotta get going."

"Okay...can I at least get some of this makeup off first' Maybe a change of clothes because I'm sweating like a pig." She said, that petulant tone still in her voice.

"No. I'm sorry. We need to move quick." He said, all business.

The shadow of panic crossed her face just then, memories of the other night flooding back to her. "Is something wrong?"

Simon eyed her a moment, debating how much to tell her. "Not if I can help it." He said. She didn't need to know about the dirty details. Not right now. To her credit, Tessa swallowed her fear, set her jaw and zipped up her coat. The corner of his mouth twitched into a grin and he canted his head to the left.

"Come on. Follow me."

The pair moved through the bustling backstage and down a stairwell. Outside, the crowd was getting restless. Hundreds of fans had gathered outside along with paparazzi. There were, of course, the troublemakers interspersed looking to do just about anything to make a scene. Even 15 minutes of infamy was enough for some people. The chants began, Tessa's name shouted over and over and over. The longer they waited, the more restless they got. The metal barricades were barely holding them back as the crowd shook them. Security was already on edge, lining the sides and desperately trying to keep order.

Simon and Tessa stepped out into the empty underground garage as the black Mercedes pulled up in front of them. Simon's contact stepped out and handed him the keys.

"Thanks." He nodded and slipped inside. He glanced in the rearview to see the girl sliding in back. "Buckle up, keep your head down."

Outside, the damn burst and the crowd poured in. It was utter chaos. Later, they would find out 3 security guards were hospitalized along with several over-enthusiastic fans. But Simon and Tessa simply drove away unscathed.

They were on their way to Tessa's penthouse when the phone rang. Simon glanced down, eyeing the screen. Mary Bradley. Great. He hit the accept button, letting the bluetooth pick up. Tessa was going to hear this.

"Yeah." Simon said. He could sense the irritation before she even spoke.

"Where the hell are you?" She asked.

"On our way to the hotel."

"Yeah, well, why am I watching the news and NOT seeing you two?" She asked.

"Plan changed." Simon said, making a turn.

"You don't have the authority to do that!"

"Job's to protect her. I'll do what I have to." He was in no mood for this woman's bull ****.

"Your job is to do what you're told! When I set something up, you follow it to the letter!"

Tessa's eyes went wide. She scoffed and leaned forward, her voice a bit shakey. "Hey, Mom?"

There was silence then. Her daughter was NOT supposed to hear this. "Tess" Sweetie" Thank God you're-"

"Mom!" She interrupted.

"Yes, sweetheart?" Mary laid the concerned, loving mother act on pretty thick.

"**** off." Tessa leaned forward and pushed the red button to end the call. As she leaned back in her chair, a smile spread across her face, the slightest bit of laughter leaving her as she stared out the window.

Simon glanced back at her, quiet for a moment. "You alright?"

"Screw 'er." the girl said flippantly.

"I'd rather not." Simon cracked with a smirk.

Tessa chuckled and nodded up to him. "Put something on. I'm not big on silence."

"Sure." Simon nodded. "Anything in particular?"

"Whatever, dude. You've got good taste. Surprise me." She said.

Frankly, he was unprepared for such a compliment from her. For a moment, he sort of gawked. As he pulled up some Johnny Cash, a genuine smile worked its way to his lips. There would be consequences for tonight, but right now he didn't care. The girl was happy and safe.

The roar of the crowd could be heard from the cages. The kids were stuffed in there, and a grim demeanor swept over all. Simon's body was wracked with pain from the beating he'd received, and the panicked confusion at what was happening.

The door creaked open, the kids all cowering as two burly men forced their way into the crowded room. The two of them looked over the throng.

"Two." One said to the other.

There was general panicked murmurs as they all tried to make themselves small. Except for a few. They were the ones who lived for this. Hardened fighters who saw the only freedom they had in these fights.

They moved through them, touching the shoulder of one of the meek young ones. The kid immediately started bawling and trying to escape as he was dragged off. Simon's heart pounded against his chest as the men moved further in.

They were coming for him. He just knew it. The hand reached out for him. He clamped his eyes shut and waited for the inevitable.

But it didn't happen. Instead he felt someone from behind push past him. A bigger kid that looked like he'd seen more than his fair share of fights. Maybe it wasn't his time. Not yet.

"You need to stay small." The familiar voice behind him muttered quietly.

Simon turned to find Anna, fading back into the shadow as best she could. Try as she might, , the brilliant mess of red hair gave her away.

"I did." He replied.

"Really?" She said, annoyed. "You looked them in the eye. That's the dumbest thing you can do. You might as well send up a flare and yell 'pick me, pick me.'"

He wasn't sure why the rush of embarrassment rushed through him just then, but he could feel the burning in his face.

"They're gunning for you." She said, a thousand yard stare directed through the locked door. "You embarrassed Stills the other day. You get in that ring and he'll make sure you hurt. Bad. Probably put you up against one of the bigger kids."

Simon felt the need to act tough. Whether it was genuine or if he just wanted to impress her, he couldn't say. "I can take care of myself."

He felt her hand grab his shoulder and yank him around hard. The girl was strong. "Listen, you dumb bastard! I'm trying to save your stupid little life! You have no idea what?s in store for you. You think you're tough because you landed a lucky punch' They will beat you into the ground and leave you mangled and bloody. And then...then it gets worse."

There was a distant look in her green eyes that sent a chill through him. Anna had seen true horrors in her young life. Horror he could not imagine. Before he could enquire further, the roar of a crowd flooded in, the doors opening and a limp, battered body dragged along. The burly man carrying him tossed the unconscious kid in a corner like a sack of potatoes.

Anna got low, keeping her eyes to the ground, so Simon followed suit, his eyes on her tattered, filthy sneakers.

"Round two, mongrels!" The man shouted. Simon heard the clang of the cell opening and almost flinched. Whimpers resounded as the adult pushed through the group, looking for their next fighters.

A laugh that sent chills up his spine came just before he heard "You."

For a moment he was certain his time had come. But the hand didn't touch him. He allowed himself to calm as he heard someone move through the crowd of children to go into the ring. One of the bigger, more aggressive kids, he was certain. God help his opponent. He dared let his eyes flick up to Anna. It was as if she could sense his gaze. She turned those bright green eyes up to him, and offered the barest hint of a smile.

But it suddenly faded, replaced with...something else. She quickly looked away. Before the confusion could fully set in, a rough hand jerked him back around. The big man sneered down at him. "Yeah. Stills is gonna love this. You'll do nicely."

Simon's heart seemed to stop. As he was being dragged forward, he panicked, trying to resist against the much stronger man. "You better knock that **** off before I get angry kid!" He snarled.

Simon reared back and spat right in his face. The backhand that followed took the young boy off his feet and had him stumbling into the others. His face stung and his eyes were a bit blurry when he was put into a headlock and dragged out toward the arena. He clawed and pulled to no avail, stopping only after catching eyes with Anna. She looked sad and a bit defeated, giving the slightest shake of her head.

Then, he just stopped, watching her slowly disappear into shadows.

“What the Hell happened?"

Corrine was livid. The one armed woman paced back and forth as Simon sat like a little kid getting chastised by a parent. One moment, she was finishing up some work at the agency and the next she was getting word that not only had Simon been fired, he'd actually attacked Tessa's...well, she wasn't entirely sure what he was,beyond Mary Bradley's boytoy.

Simon knew the deal. No fighting. But Corrine knew how hard he'd been working at changing. Maybe he deserved the benefit of the doubt. Didn't mean she had to like it, of course, but some credit was due. Those brilliant blue eyes turned up to her. The shame in them wasn't from what he'd done to the man. It was the feeling he'd let her down. That was new.

"They were deliberately putting her in danger." He said. "I protected the girl like I was supposed to and they fired me."

"Yeah" Paige's brow cocked. "And when, exactly, did suckerpunching the boyfriend come into play?"

She saw defiance in his eyes when he looked up, sharply. "When he was moving in to hit her."

Corrine balked at him, her brows rising high. "He's hitting her?" She asked incredulously. How the hell dumb were these people that they would risk injury to their meal ticket' She'd met Mary Bradley. The woman was about as warm and cuddly as a rattlesnake, but she certainly LOVED the lifestyle that girl's talent provided for her.

"He bragged about it to me the day I met him. I made it pretty damn clear what would happen if he ever did." There wasn't a word strong enough to describe the hatred Simon had for that man. "He's a predator. He got less than he deserved."

Corrine sat beside him, finger and thumb to the bridge of her nose. There was a small part of her that still didn't quite believe him. But the rational part had met Tony, and he seemed every bit capable of what Simon described. Plus...it WAS kind of the tattooed mess's MO.

"We need to get her out of there." Simon said.

"You get the girl to come forward, sure." Paige said. "You think you can manage that?"

Simon grimaced. He'd seen that look in her eye. It was one he'd had in the past. This foolish idea that only the weak reported abuse. The strong survived it and turned it on their abusers. Tessa Bradley was not one to ask for a savior. She was in control of her own destiny, her own survival. She would handle her parents in her own way.

"That might not be so easy."

"Then we may be **** outta luck." Paige said grimly.

Simon sat outside the highrise, waiting for his new client to come down and meet him. Some bigshot CEO, he'd been told. That world never really interested him, outside of the paycheck, but a gig was a gig. It had been weeks since the blow out with Tessa's parents. Corrine pulled some serious strings to get him here. Part of him considered taking the generous chunk of money Tahlia had kicked his way and live off that for a while...but two weeks without work and he was going stir crazy.

Simon wasn't a "sit around the house" kind of guy. Part of him missed life on Virgil's farm. The routine had done him a world of good when he'd needed it most. He rearranged the condo twice before Corrine got home and tore him a new one. He'd never admit it, but if we was honest, he spent most of that time looking for any information on Tessa. He saw that she had tour dates, so she must have healed up since that night. Simon couldn't get her off his mind. He felt responsible, as if he'd abandoned her. It ate at him every second he wasn't occupied with something else. The day Paige told him about the new job was a gift. The sentiment would not last.

The client exited the building. He was tall, in decent shape. Not a single salt and pepper colored hair was out of place. His impeccably tailored black suit accented with a red power tie. Simon could see him talking before he heard him, yacking away into the Bluetooth headset on his ear. On first sight, Simon could tell he didn't like this guy. Just the way he moved reeked of an excess of unearned confidence.

The client yanked open the door and slipped in without so much as a "Hello."

"Triton Corp.". He said. "123rd and Gale. Radio off."

Like he was a ****ing cab driver. Simon eyed him in the rearview with silent disdain, images playing through his head of dragging the man out of the car and beating him to a pulp, but he just reached over and turned to volume down to zero. The man went right back to talking way too loudly to the person on the other end. Simon summoned up every last bit of patience he had and put the car in drive.

For a half an hour he listened to every racist, misogynistic, homophobic and braggadocious thing this jerk off said, hating him more and more by the second. Simon was actually grateful the son of a bitch barely spared him a glance, let alone a word.

To say the rest of the ride was in silence would be inaccurate, with the client bragging to whoever was on the other end of that call about some hooker he'd ****ed. Simon couldn't help but notice the wedding band around his finger then, the bile rising again. Flashes of men he'd known in his past came in waves. Vicious, soulless men who never quite left his mind. Their faces forever etched upon his being, haunting his dreams. That he was now forced to protect one of them made him sick to his stomach. Suddenly, Tessa Bradley was a breath of fresh air in comparison.

The day went on, Simon playing chauffeur to his deplorable client. Running into convenience stores and getting his food for him, the urge to quit rising by the second. But he needed the work. Grin and bear it, he decided. And if all else fails...just lock him in the car and drive it in the river!

He was forced to escort the man to some meeting with other such bigwigs, but was not allowed in the room. He wound up sitting in the waiting room, alone with the secretary. Pretty girl with auburn hair done up in a professional, tight bun. Ice blue eyes kept flicking his way. Whether it was out of nervousness or intrigue, he couldn't tell. Simon was aware of the positives and negatives of his appearance and his effect on other people. Some women saw a tough, sexpot. Others saw a possible danger that was more likely to be escorted by cops than leave of his own volition. He just offered that mildly bemused little smile and nodded her way whenever he caught her.

The secretary forced a polite smile and went back to work, burying her head in her typing. Simon watched her out of the corner of his eye a moment.

"You like working here?" He asked her, disliking the silence.

She looked up, almost startled, her brows rising upwards. "Hm?"

"Working for these guys. You like it?"

"Oh..."She said, a bit awkwardly, glancing back toward the door. "Uh...yeah. It's got its moments."

That amused little smirk crossed his face. He could tell she was lying. "Does it?"

For a moment she looked unsure, almost offended. She went to speak, but the words didn't come. Instead, a little grin came over her features.

"I gotta tell ya," he said "If it's half as fun as my job, I'm thinkin' you and me should go halfsies on lobotomies."

A little chuckle left her, but she immediately tried to suppress it, lest they somehow magically were listening.

"Guy's a ****in' nightmare..." Simon chuckled. "What's your name?"

"Bridgette." She said, visibly relaxing a bit.

"Simon." He said, hand to his chest.

"What do you do, Simon' Personal assistant?"

"Bodyguard." He responded.

Those blue eyes of her's ran over him and she nodded. "Yeah. That makes sense."

"Yeah?" Simon said wryly. "Tell him that. ****er thinks I'm his goddamn go-fer."

Bridgette glanced back at the door a moment and leaned forward conspiratorially. "To be honest, they're all like that." She said with a roll of her eyes. "I swear, another one of them walks by and stares at my chest like they're the damn stock market, I think I'm going to scream."

Simon grinned and nodded. "What is this place" What do...uh...what do they do?"

"Oh. We oversee a lot of the trade coming into and out of the city. Or...they do, I suppose." She muttered.

"But not you?" He said.

"I fetch them coffee and bring them papers." She practically pouted.

"Not the dream job." He nodded.

"No. Not at all." she grimaced.

"Well, sister. I feel your pain." He said standing up from that Italian leather chair and started toward a cubby hole in one corner of the room, stopping and glancing her way. "Coffee?"

There was a moment of panic in Bridgette's face then. "Oh. Um...you-" she glanced back at the door. "I should really be getting that for you."

Simon made a face. "Come on. Old friends like us" I can do you a solid." he joked.

"No. I could get fired." She said firmly. It stopped Simon in his tracks. "I shouldn't even be talking to you like this."

Simon frowned. What a life they lead. Terrified of losing something they hated. Part of him thought he would have been better off if he did. As much as the world put forth the idea that people are all in control of their own destinies, he knew better. Men like his client, like her employer...they had real power. They had sway. Simon could take a life, end it quick, but these men could take a livelihood. Bleed people out until they had nothing. Make them wish they were dead.

The door opened and the businessmen filed out talking and laughing loudly, making sure everyone could hear how clever and hilarious they weren't. Bridgette immediately ducked down and went back to typing. The client didn't even address him upon exiting, just walked right past him. It was a nigh imperceptible glance, but he caught a look from her. Wordlessly, they said to each other "Good Luck."

The client's assistant called Simon at 7 am, waking him from a dead sleep. He was to accompany the businessman to a gala event that evening. Great. He'd get to spend the evening with the obscenely wealthy and people just like or worse than his client. One was bad enough, this sounded like a wide-awake nightmare.

Still, he took in a breath and confirmed that he would be there. The phone hung up, he ran his hands down his face before brushing one through his short-cropped hair. With a deep cleansing breath, he pushed up off his bed. Living with Paige had him keeping the room damn near spotless. A far cry from his old place, an abandoned factory in the industrial district. That place was a bit of a hole. It looked better now that it was burned down, Simon often joked.

He shuffled out, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, making his way down the hall toward the main living area. Corrine sat at the table, flicking through the news on her iPad, giving him a glance as he entered. "Mornin'." she greeted him. "Coffee's on the pot."

"Thanks." Simon said, a bit groggy. "You need breakfast?"

"You makin' breakfast?" She smirked back. The months they'd lived together had developed an easy, mellow routine for the two of them. They were comfortable with each other, and Paige would never admit it, but she appreciated having the company.

"Yeah, what the hell?" He shrugged and started gathering the accoutrements for the meal. "That guy called."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Simon muttered unhappily. "Guess who gets to hang out with the rich and powerful tonight."

Paige snickered. "Oh, you'll love that."

"Fuckin' nightmare." Simon shook his head. "I swear. This gig lasts much longer, I'm going to boot this dude out the door in the middle of a bad neighborhood."

Corrine glanced up from her iPad, an unamused look in her eyes. "Toews. Don't you fuck this up. I'm warning you."

"Come on." Simon complained. "He's a dick."

"He's a wealthy, powerful dick who can shut us down if you fuck with him. So, for me...just deal for now. Please." She pleaded sternly. "Besides, you make more contacts tonight, and maybe we might be able to find you something better."

He didn't like it, but his options weren't exactly in abundance. "You're gonna owe me somethin' fierce for this." Simon told her.

Paige looked at him like he MUST have lost his mind, a derisive laugh leaving her. "Yeah, we'll take it out of the massive pile of debt you currently owe me, Toews."

He felt helpless. Weak. Dirty. Even victory now came at a price. The shame was unbearable. Everywhere he went, he was certain everyone knew and everyone was judging. They saw his weakness, his filthiness. He couldn't even look Anna in the eye.

She sat over him, watching as he withdrew into himself, refusing to eat or drink. Refusing even to sleep. She knew his pain all too well. The perverted rich and bored paid top dollar to bed the young "gladiators". Those first few times were soul shattering, but once the hope of salvation went, it became just a part of the whole, messy situation. Hatred filled you, not just for the abusers, but for yourself.

Some embraced it, just to cope. Some couldn't handle it and let it consume them until they just let themselves die. Others, like herself just learned to live with it. Somehow, they forced themselves to survive. To her, there were no other options.

Simon lay there night after night, a despondent lump. Even the slightest affectionate touch made the boy recoil and she withdrew. Letting him have his space.

Anna sat at his side, hugging her knees to her chest, just listening to him breathe. Finally, she stole a glance at his back. "I know it hurts." She said softly. "I know you feel like nothing will ever be good again."

Simon didn't respond.

"I know you want to give up and just let the end come. I wanted the same thing. I wanted to show them they could take everything, but my life would be my own to take." Her voice quivered. "But if I did that...if you do that...they'll just replace you with another. If you wither away...give up...they win. And fuck them, Simon. You can't let them have this. You can't. You need to be strong. Even when you feel like you just can't be. If you want to beat them...you need to get back up, look them in the eye, and say 'Is that the best you can do, you cowards?'l

Simon didn't so much as stir.

"And if...". She paused, reconsidering her words. "WHEN you do...I'll be here. Right beside you. To the end. I promise." She said.

"Please, Simon." She whispered. "Don't leave me."

She leaned down and kissed the top of his head, going to move again and give him some space. The last thing she expected was for his hand to grab her's. He didn't look back, but pulled her toward him. Anna didn't fight it, she just slid in behind him, curling up against his back, and held him. His body shook as the tears left him, but she just held tighter, resting her forehead against the back of his. He would survive this, she decided. They both would.

Three years passed. Three years of fights and abuse. Three years of blood, broken bones and broken bodies at the hands of the wealthy. Simon learned to internalize it. To retreat within himself when it happened. To shut out the pain and degradation. After three long years, he began to accept that even victory had it's price, and that maybe, it was all he was truly good for.

All through it, Anna remained. When she started to develop, they began to doll her up a little more for the crowd, sexualizing her, even in the brutal violence of the fight. She was an object, a product they were selling. The perceived pampering drove a wedge between her and all of the other kids. All but Simon. It was Simon who cleaned her up after a loss and kept her sane through the victories, just as she had done for him time and again. The pair were a team in the ring and out, always protecting one another. The more they won, the more popular they became. Soon they were winning almost every fight, earning the ire of their peers and the vicious, lustful love of the crowd. The fights were their sanctuary. The one place they could let out their rage and have some manner of control. Everything before and after would be a nightmare, but in the ring, that time was theirs. They lived only for the fight and each other.

Rumors circulated about them amongst the other kids and some of the audience. Some romanticised pile of crap that it was an inspiring, heart-warming tale of young love. The kind of morbid delusion that could only be cooked up by the ignorance of privilege and extreme wealth. They ignored the brutal, vicious reality to attach some made-up narrative to kids who were, in reality their victims. THEY allowed this. This demanded it. Were it not for the crowd, Simon and Anna might be living in foster homes with families who cared for them. Their biggest concerns might be dealing with classes in school instead of worrying about dying in a ring surrounded by the soulless rich. But no. They were clinging to one another simply to survive the hell these people created and perpetuated for them.

The two of them paid it no mind. Rumors weren't exactly a concern for them. However, as time went on, the more desperate they became to escape. Their relative fame put targets on their backs. Some of the other kids made attempts on them in fits of misplaced jealousy. They were met with swift retribution from the two of them. During the day, they did what they were told, towing the line for Stills, but in the dark of night, they conspired. They would whisper their plans as they lay, wrapped close together for warmth as well as comfort. The illusion of safety was everything in those days. Were they wiser, they might have been quieter, or more selective of where they spoke. It was youthful naivete to think they couldn't get caught, and blind dumb luck that it hadn't happened already.

Anna lay on her left hand side, her leg draped across Simon's hip, her head resting on his slowly rising and falling chest. The sound of his breathing relaxed her and often sang her to sleep at night. Her green eyes turned up, glancing at him. He'd become lean, strong, and tough. Scars decorating his body liberally, his fists a busted mess that would never properly heal. A far cry from the boy she'd seen dragged into the cell 3 years ago. She had been certain he wouldn't last a week, let alone 3 years. He'd come in a wad of cookie dough. Now he was carved from granite. Simon was her rock, the one thing she could always count on. The girl didn't quite understand or even think she had the capacity for romantic love, but she felt in that moment that maybe she did love him. Maybe that's all love was, trusting someone and having them trust you through anything. Even through this nightmare life of theirs.

One day, they'd be free of this place. One day, their lives would be their own again. Maybe then, she'd begin to understand. Maybe then, she could figure out what she felt. Until then, Anna lay at his side, safe with Simon.

The world was a dull, hazy blur. Everything that moved trailed, all sound was muffled. Thank fuck for that, she thought. She could tell even then that his weak, nasally voice would have turned her stomach more than his paunchy, hairy gut hanging out from the robe. The "client" was a cherub-esque man with a bad toupee. He was pouring them wine, really trying to romance the thing up. He whispered something to her she couldn't make out and offered her the wine.

Hurry the fuck up, Simon. She thought, weakly smiling for him. Her hands shook, reaching out. One doughy fist wrapped around her's, holding the glass steady and raising it to her lips slowly, a skin-crawlingly creepy smile on his fat, mustachioed face.

Suddenly, he whipped around in surprise, the glass falling from his hamfisted grip. Her distorted vision took a moment to make sense of what she was seeing, but eventually, the out of sync figure melded into the visage of SImon, and he was carrying a pistol. The fat man rose a fuss until Simon pointed it at him, then he cowered and shrunk into a corner of the room.

Simon moved to her and checked to make sure she was okay as best he could. The fat man was shouting, this was not what he was promised. Her friend helped her to her feet, tucking away the gun, and helping her toward the door. Her hearing was just good enough to hear the disgusting client screaming and getting closer to her. The entitled son of a bitch was actually running for them. Well, she decided. Fuck that.

She grabbed the pistol from the back of Simon's pants and turned it on her would be assaulter. The barrel leveled at his forehead, his eyes going wide with shock just one moment before she pulled the trigger.

That stunned look remained as the back of his head burst against the expensive mahogany woodwork. She thought she would feel something, some regret or remorse from it...but there was nothing. Just a cold indifference as he crumbled lifeless to the ground.

Simon stared in silence, slowly taking the weapon from her. "Come on." She barely made out.

The adrenaline was pumping, and the drugs wearing off but she was barely able to keep up as they rushed down the hallway, head pounding. They just had to make it to the stairwell and they'd be home free...and then who the hell knew what would happen?

Anna allowed herself to hope for once in her life. That was when she felt it. SImon was ripped from her arms, her legs giving out, sending her to the cold marble tile of the hallway. She shook off the daze from the fall and looked to see Simon being thrown against a wall by Stills. The larger man grabbed him by the throat and lifted him from the ground.

She should have known better.

Simon pounded on the stronger adult's arms, trying in vain to pry them from his neck. Stills' muscles bulged, straining against the weight of a 15 year old boy. Her friend's eyes bulged with panic and anger. She willed her limbs to move, crawling toward them, but completely unsure of what she could possibly do.

The boy tried kicking, but it just made Stills angrier and squeeze harder. Anna was almost certain he'd break Simon's neck before he could even fully strangle him. She knew it was because of her. They had to have heard the gunshot. She grit her teeth, willing herself to crawl faster on those trembling, weakened limbs.

Simon was weakening by the second....and then she saw it. The scalpel gleamed upon the ground, the light reflecting red with the blood staining its blade. Go. Go, Anna! Move your fucking ass!

Stills grinned, watching the light begin to fade behind the boy's eyes. "I've wanted to do this since the moment they dragged your sorry ass in here, you little fuck!" He shouted moistly in Simon's choking, strained face.

Anna plunged the blade into his spine with every last bit of her energy, the big bruiser's body going ramrod straight as he yelled in agony, her ears clearing just in time to hear it. Simon fell coughing and gasping as Stills dropped to his knees. She struggled to her feet and reached for him, Simon propping an arm on the wall as she helped him up. The two of them hobbled away, but then Stills grabbed him by the ankle and Simon almost fell, but she kept hold of him. Stills was filled with rage, roaring at them both in what seemed like a different tongue. He pulled Simon toward him, but she wrapped her arms around his chest, trying to pull him back. Simon clenched his jaw, seeing red and kicked him in the face with the heel of his boot.

Stills' head snapped back and slammed onto the tile. Simon pulled free from her grasp and put two arms upon the wall, propping himself up as he stomped on the back of Stills' head again and again and again and again. He poured every ounce of pain and suffering he'd been put through in the past 4 years into it. Every touch, every punch, every bit of despair. He stomped as hard as he could, as viciously as he could. He stomped on him until the resistance gave way and his foot met bone and floor. The sight left her queasy. Somehow it gave her comfort to know that there were still things that could disturb her.

Finally, she wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him back. "SIMON!" She managed to say. "Please..." It was all she could manage.

Simon panted, staring down at his big kill. It wasn't enough. He deserved worse. They all did. But it was time to go. It was time to run and leave this place in the rearview. He looked to the weak, sickly-looking Anna and took her in his arm, both hobbling to the stairwell.

They were free. They were finally free.

The world was so big outside of that place. Simon had almost completely forgotten. Anna, it seemed had never known. She never talked much about her past. It made him wonder if she'd ever truly seen anything outside of Falk's little kingdom. She looked around with wide eyes. It was all so beautiful, so overwhelming in scope. People went about their days, no fear of death or punishment constantly weighing them down. They were completely unencumbered.

A chill had settled into the air around the city. Winter was fast approaching, and the filthy, ill fitting clothes they wore made them stand out like a sore thumb. Anna's old tanktop and ripped up old jeans weren't going to cut it. Simon lead her to a thrift store, securing them a new wardrobe.

Anna stood in front of the mirror, staring for a long time. It had been a long while since she was able to for more than just a passing glance. Often Falk's people would doll her up for the clients, never really giving her a chance to look. She didn't quite recognize the girl in front of her. Her red hair had faded slightly, her fair skin marred by scars. The girl in the mirror was skinny, but muscular. She skated the edge between thin and malnourished, probably by design. They would often deprive her of meals, marketing her for a specific kind of clientele, she was sure. She, of course knew about the curves, Falk's people weren't exactly shy about how they'd sought to highlight those. But Anna, herself, hadn't truly appreciated just how much her body had changed in all that time.

What she saw in that mirror wasn't a victim. What she saw was strong and beautiful, and not for what they'd done to make her look a certain way. She saw a survivor who refused to back down. For that, she was proud.

Anna pulled a t-shirt emblazoned with the logo of someone called "The Ramones" over a long-sleeved, white waffle knit and pulled on a pair of clean jeans. Immediately, she felt better. Amazing what a clean set of clothing could do. Aside from being outfitted for one of Falk's clients, the kids she'd grown up with were issued new clothing as they grew out of the old ones. New clothes were a luxury seldom afforded. She left the booth, stepping out to find Simon, dressed in a pair of cargo pants and a green and black flannel. An old, black peacoat missing some buttons thrown over it all. He reached out, handing her a jacket himself, a maroon, thigh-length wool coat with black accents. It, too was missing a few buttons and had some light staining, but it was might as well have been a ball gown to Anna.

"You look good." Simon said, eyes tracing over her. For some reason, it sent a warm feeling through her belly.

"You too." She said, a bit sheepishly. And he did. The boy cleaned up nicely. Anna cleared her throat and looked around. Back to real life. "So...what now" We just run out of here with this stuff on?"

Simon grinned and shook his head. "Nope. Already paid for."

Anna balked a moment, staring at him suspiciously. "And where did you get money?"

The boy pulled out a wad of money he had pinched from Stills' wallet. "Compliments of Stills."

She couldn't help the laugh that escaped her. "You took it from him"!" She said, trying to keep it quiet.

"Not like that piece of shit has any use for it anymore." Simon shrugged.

She couldn't shake the image of what Simon had done to him. Stills got the least of what was coming to him, but it was such a vicious, relentless attack that she couldn't quite shake it. Anna shook it off, trying a smile on. After everything he'd put them through, having his money fund their little shopping spree was a pretty sweet slice of karmic justice, she supposed. She'd killed before, but, though it was always about survival, it never sat well with her. Even shooting that fat pervert in the face made her queasy, and she didn't even want to think about what he would have done to her. All the planning and the fantasies didn't matter when she was confronted with the real thing.

The pair stepped back out into the approaching cold. They would need a place to bed down for the night, but first, Simon had a stop he was dying to make. Simon lead her to a diner, holding the door as she passed. An old Elvis song blared over the radio as waitresses in vintage uniforms made the rounds. The smells and lively nature of the place absolutely enchanted Anna. People sitting, chatting, laughing over plates of REAL food. God, she couldn't remember the last time she'd had a real meal that wasn't the disgusting, gloppy gruel they'd slopped onto styrofoam plates for them.

Even then, she couldn't relax. Every smiling face was one that could turn on them, get them put back in Falk's hands. She couldn't do that again. She'd rather kill herself than go back to all of that. Her eyes darted around as they slid into the red, vinyl booth, glittery sparkles twinkling in the fluorescent lights above.

The menu was just so expansive. She didn't know what half the foods listed even were, let alone if she'd like them. Her brows knit with concern as she read it over, glancing up to find Simon grinning.

"What?" she demanded.

"Troubles?" He asked.

Anna let out a frustrated sigh. "I don't know what any of this is. What's good?"

"Oh." He said. "Burgers. You gotta get a burger."

"Burger" That's meat, right?" She asked, legitimately unsure.

Simon breathed out a little laugh and nodded. "Yeah, that's meat."

The waitress arrived, and took their orders. Anna couldn't be sure if the brassy, gum-smacking attitude was at all put on or just her personality.

"When I was out on the streets, I used to steal food from the back of this place all the time. Really good stuff. You'd be amazed at the things people just throw away."

Anna shifted in her seat a bit. There wasn't usually much conversation between them, beyond their plans and what came next. They NEVER talked about their pasts. This was uncharted territory.

"How long were you on your own?" she asked.

"About a month and a half." He said.

"Really?" To her that sounded like freedom. She didn't have much concept of homelessness and not having a roof over your head.

"Ran into this guy. A priest."

That just sent off warning bells in her head. She'd dealt with men of the cloth, and it was never pleasant. The desires of repressed men were terrifying.

"Good guy." Simon continued. "Took me in, fed me. Gave me a place to sleep. Then...well." He opened his hands and gestured to her and then himself. She could guess what that meant.

"I'm sorry." She said.

Simon shrugged. "Sooner or later...everything ends."

That sent a chill through her she did NOT like. It made a scary amount of sense.

"Yeah." She agreed. "I suppose it does."

The door to a room at the Deckard Discount Motel creaked open, Simon stepping in with a bag full full of medical supplies from the drugstore and his duffle strapped over a shoulder. He limped in, setting the bags down on the bed and headed into the bathroom, turning on the shower.

He turned and looked at himself in the mirror. The dried blood had been washed away, but the bruising was beginning to set in and those cuts and gashes remained. He could see red blooming at the bottom of his white dress shirt. One by one, he undid the buttons of his shirt, exposing the damage the boy had done. The brown and red spreading beneath the skin over his ribcage told him all he needed to know. At least two broken ribs. A cut at the right side of his stomach had slowed bleeding, but was still fresh. He'd definitely need stitches.

Worst of all, though, he was alone. Completely and utterly alone. For a moment, he considered getting a burner and calling Tahlia...but that was swept aside.

"Everything you touch turns to absolute shit!" he heard Corrine's voice in his head. "You wanna save someone" Then stay the fuck away from them!"

No. Calling Tahlia was out of the question. He wouldn't drag her into his mess, not again.

Falk would probably have people looking for him. He was on the run once again. He couldn't help but remember the last time he was here. But that was a long ago...when he wasn't alone.

~~

Simon stood nervously in a sleazy motel reception office. Tom Deckard, the too-thin scraggly old man behind the counter regarded him dubiously. One so young didn't exactly come asking for a room very often, but he had money. Anna waited outside, ready to run at a moment's notice. For a moment, he thought they were pinched. The clerk would call the authorities and they'd end up in lock up until Falk dragged them back into that hellhole.

But finally, the man slid the key across the desk. "Room 4."

Suddenly a weight lifted from his shoulders. They weren't exactly out of the woods, but they were both exhausted and this seemed like the best plan at the moment. He snatched the key and nodded. "Thanks."

"Behave." The man said to him pointedly. SImon merely nodded and walked outside.

"Come on." he said to Anna.

"Wait." Anna ordered, eyeing the clerk as best she could through the curtains. Only when she saw him settle back down to watch TV did she join him, walking toward the room. A bed, two night stands, and a small couch decorated the room in front of a TV on a dresser. In the back was the bathroom. The accommodations weren't exactly the lap of luxury, but to them, it might as well have been a 5 star hotel.

Anna checked outside the window again, making sure nobody had followed. Falk would no doubt be looking for them now. They couldn't stay more than the night. Simon gently placed a hand on her arm. "It's okay. We're alright." he assured her with a slight smile.

Anna eyed the boy a moment before she seemed to ease up, a smile crossing her lips as she eyed the bed, those green eyes flicking back to him. He smirked and both of them rushed over, sinking down onto the mattress side by side, letting out a long drawn out "ahhhhhhhh". The pair of them giggled at one another,. It was the first time he'd truly heard that come out of her. In that moment, he decided it was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.

"This is amazing." She said, not only referring to the bed, but the day they'd had..

"Right?" he responded blissfully.

"People actually live like this?" she asked as if it were a revelation.

Simon rolled onto his side, facing her. "Well, get used to it, sister. It's real beds from here on out. No more concrete floors and folded up, ratty clothes for pillows."

Anna grinned. She couldn't help but appreciate his optimism, even if she knew better. She turned her head, looking to him. "I never said thank you. For saving me."

Simon's eyes lowered a bit, a hint of bashfulness there. "Part of the plan, right?" he tried to play it off cool.

"Yeah." She said, smiling warmly at him. "Part of the plan."

Simon's blue eyes flicked back up to her, catching the look in her's. She wasn't at all buying it.

"If it weren't for you...I don't think I would have made it. I'd have probably just...given up. Let them kill me and end it all a long time ago."

Simon blushed. He wasn't sure he deserved such a compliment. "I don't think that's true.." he said. "You're the strongest person I know. And...and if I didn't have you, I wouldn't have lasted more than a week."

Anna shifted onto her side facing him, propping herself up on one arm. "I don't know how much I helped. I was cold. Mean, even. I still think about the things I said that one night." her voice was quiet. "You needed a friend and I was-"

"You were exactly what I needed." Simon said. "At all times. You made me stronger. What they did to us...it was...." his eyes shut, trying to push away those images.

She reached over and brushed her fingers across his cheek. "No." She said. "We're not thinking about that. Not now. Not ever again." Her fingers ran through his hair gently, a thumb running over his eyebrow. Simon's eyes closing, grateful for the distraction. "We're free."

It was all so overwhelming, the thought that they'd never have to go back to that place, to have to fight to survive as they had. It had been a pipe dream for so long and now it was real. Tears welled in her eyes and he couldn't help but join her. Anna wrapped her arms around him and pulled him to her, the two of them clinging tightly to one another for dear life, all the pain of the past years melting away into something else. Something warm, comfortable and intoxicating.

Their foreheads pressed together, as they slowly calmed. His eyes opened, finding her's staring back, a sudden tightness in his chest. Anna looked at him, as if for the first time seeing him, those green eyes darting back and forth over his face. She was memorizing that moment, just as he was. The person she trusted most. The ONLY person she trusted, here with her in the world outside. This was perfect. This was their's.

He saw something new in her eyes. A decisiveness mixed with nervousness. Anna leaned in, her lips lightly pressing to his. For a moment, he panicked inside, but eventually, he melted into that kiss. Those lips were soft, gentle, a bit moist...they were the most wonderful things he'd ever felt. But then the images flowed in. Lips on his, rough, chapped and stubbled. Rough hands upon his body. The dull, numbed ache in his body when they did what they did. His heart began to pound, those flashing images becoming more and more intense.

Simon pulled away suddenly, gasping and rolling onto his back. He lay there a moment catching his breath. It was all too much. He just wasn't prepared at all. Anna stared at him, her face flushed red.

"What is it' What's wrong?" She asked in a concerned, breathless little voice. She propped herself up on one arm.

Simon's brow furrowed as he searched for the words to explain. "It's just...I can't...." He just turned those eyes up to her. "What are we doing?"

Anna couldn't deny that she understood his fear. Neither had been allowed to choose such intimacies. But here and now, she wanted something they had power over. To take back what had been taken. Her fingertips ran along his cheek softly. "Whatever we want. Nothing we don't."

Something was reassuring in that, Simon decided. A warmth seemed to fill his body, an electric charge he'd never known before running through him. Once again, Anna was comforting him, making him feel safe. He wanted exactly what she did. He turned onto his side, facing her.

"Slow." he said, voice shaking with nerves.

"Are you sure?" she asked, fingers returning to his cheek.

"Are you?"

Anna smiled then, those emerald colored eyes locking on him. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life. All my life, I've never had a choice, Simon. In anything except you. I choose this. With you. But only if you want."

The smile remained, but a hint of worry and need crept into her eyes. He had his fears, of course. It wasn't like his experiences had been at all pleasant. But this wasn't one of them. This wasn't someone using him. This was Anna. He couldn't imagine anyone he trusted more. Anyone he'd ever cared for more. He reached up, fingers moving along the scar at her cheek. Finally, he gave in, their lips connecting once again.

The kiss deepened, that desperate desire creeping in more and more. Hands wandered and clothes were shed, exposing their bruised and scarred bodies to one another. That night they saw each other in a way they never had before. Passion mounting as they came together. It wasn't out of obligation or against their will. It was pure, unadulterated desire. A desperate need to feel something good, something theirs and theirs alone. To feel some semblance of love where they had only known pain, shame and degradation. Simon and Anna found solace in one another once again. They would fall asleep in each other's arms, as they had so many nights before, but this time, there was no fear. This time they were safe. ~~ The memory of that night lingered in his mind. He'd give anything to have her here now. Reassuring him, comforting him, wiping away all of his fears. But Anna was gone. How Falk had gotten his hands on her, he didn't know, but the thought made him sick to his stomach.

Simon shut his eyes and pushed it away a best he could. He wondered if she was still alive out there. If she was, he hoped she was happy. He hoped she was safe.

Three months. They had Three months together. Three months of passionate nights, exciting days and unbridled joy where they answered to no one and apologized for nothing. Those three months were theirs, spent in hotels, diners, and bars, performing little odd-jobs and the occasional pickpocket here and there to provide when Stills' money ran out. For three months they were happy and free. Anna had never known anything like it. Certainly, she'd never experienced such a blissful state of being as she did with Simon at her side. Slowly, nightmares dissipated and became dreams. Eventually, when she closed her eyes, she no longer saw terrors. And always right beside her was Simon. Clutching her, keeping her safe and warm, chasing away all of those fears and doubts. They were happy, truly happy for the first time in their lives. But still...in every moment of joy, there remained that lingering, faceless fear. How long could they live like this" How long before they slipped up" How long before, as Simon put it, everything ends"

They stepped off a train, into the hustle and bustle of the mid-day crowd. Something about being lost in a sea of people was a rush as well as a comfort. She was a part of the ebb and flow of society for the first time, a normal...ish girl. The people staring at her were reduced to those just seeing a pretty girl or noticing the scar upon her cheek. She'd had enough time in the spotlight. Here, she could just blend into the crowd.

They moved through the station, the smell of exhaust in the cold air mingling with the scent of various food kiosks and a kaleidoscope of different perfumes and colognes as they entered they entered the warmth of the building. Simon insisted they stop for a couple slices of pizza. It had taken their stomachs a little while to adjust to actual, substantial food, but now she was able to truly enjoy it. It was piping hot when they arrived, too hot to eat. The pair of them stepped through the front doors and out into the chill of the city. The buildings didn't help the cold, creating a huge wind tunnel that blasted them right in the face upon exiting the station. Anna's hair whipped wildly in her face, her eyes and nose scrunching up as she froze his face, loudly trying to blow them aside. When she finally cleared it, tucking the offending strands back with her knit cap, she caught Simon grinning

"Don't you DARE laugh." She said.

"I didn't!" He protested with a chuckle.

"There! You're doing it right now!" She said with a put-on anger.

"I am not!" He was. He so was.

Anna grumbled something and walked on ahead. At least the snow had stopped, she thought. Nothing worse than getting sandblasted with ice. She was about to take a bite out of her pizza when she saw a pair of figures, huddled against a building. One adult and a one smaller. The boy was young, younger than them. He couldn't have been more than seven. Both wer bundled in several filthy coats of varying states of disrepair. Something in her heart broke for them.

"What's up?" Simon asked, noting that she had stopped in her tracks. Anna looked back at him with a sorrowful look in her eyes. She turned from him and walked up to the two of them, crouching down low. Simon tilted his head, just watching he a moment.

"Hey, there." She said in a soft, soothing voice. The pair of them looked up, cold and hungry. "You look like you could use this more than me."

She offered her slice of sausage pizza to the boy. The boy's mother beamed up at her, and turned to her son and nodded. He happily took it from her and immediately took a big bite out of it, the thick cheese pulling in strings. Simon glanced down at his own food. He'd been craving that damn thing all morning. Just giving it up was not exactly the plan he had in mind. He blinked then, flashbacks of Mulcahy running through his mind. No way could he just walk away. He sighed and walked over to the mother. "Yeah. You can have mine."

The woman seemed stunned, overwhelmed by what he'd done. "Thank you." She said in a shakey, meek little voice. Suddenly, something inside of him warmed. It was the best feeling he'd ever felt in his entire life. No pleasure before or after would ever feel so sweet.

Anna stayed crouched, smiling at the boy. "What's your name?" She asked him in between bites.

"Christofuh." he said with that little kid mangling of vowels.

"Christopher" I like that name. Nice to meet you, Christopher." Anna grinned brightly and held out a gloved hand. "I'm Anna."

The boy glanced to his mother again, and she nodded approval. Anna took his small hand and shook. "You take care of your momma, now. Okay?"

His dirty little face lit up and he nodded. Anna turned to the mother. "I wish the best to both of you. Sorry we can't give more."

"Bless you." The mother said and looked to Simon. "Bless you both."

Anna nodded to her and mussed her hand over the boy's cap before standing up. "Be good, Christopher."

She wrapped her arms around Simon's arm and walked on down the street. It wasn't enough for her, but it was what she could do. Something deep inside called to her, "Do it again."

They'd gone all over the city, until he stopped at a high-class whiskey bar. Tessa had worried about getting in, but the bouncer seemed to know Miles and let them right in. She had to admit...she was impressed. A woman, impeccably made-up like a 1940's singer, but for the tattoos on her arms. She had a voice like silk, crooning out a swaying, melancolie tune. The men were all in suits and ties, and she could see in their coats that they were all armed. Likewise, the women were impeccably dressed, Something about them said they were every bit as dangerous as the men.

Tessa could feel her phone vibrate in her pocket and knew exactly who it was without looking. Her mother must have been losing her mind. She reached in and silenced the device. As they moved into the dimly lit, vintage tavern, she became aware that there were many sets of eyes upon her. She felt super underdressed.

Miles found them a table toward the back, pulling her chair out for her. She smiled up at him and took a seat. "Gentleman. I like it." she said.

"If I had a hat, I'd doff it." he joked, sliding into his own seat. A candle flickered beneath a maroon colored shade in the middle of the table.

"So. You can get anywhere, huh?" She said, leaning back in her chair.

"That's the rumor." he said with a shrug.

"How's that work?"

"Incredibly well." He said, nodding with a playful sincerity.

Tessa grinned, stifling a laugh. "No, I mean-"

"I know what you mean." Miles chuckled. "Mr. Falk has a lot of pull in this city. He does business with a lot of folks in power. Means we earn certain privileges."

"Like the layouts of concert venues?" she quirked a brow.

"Among others." A waitress in a form-fitting 40's style cocktail dress stepped up to them.

"Good Evening." She said, a hint of French in her accent..."Welcome back to the Atlantis, sir. May I get you a drink?"

Miles smiled up to her, a familiar vibe between them. "Sophie. Good to be back. We'll take two glasses of Glenfiddich 1937. Please."

"Oui, Monsieur. A splendid choice. Right away." She said with a bow of her head.

Tessa was completely out of her element, but Miles was right at home. "Mercie." he responded before the woman left. Tessa watched her sway away from them. That woman knew exactly what she was doing and how to do it. She turned to her new friend, quirking a brow.

"And you speak French now?" She asked him.

Miles scrunched up his face and held up his thumb and forefinger a tiny bit apart. "Un petit peu."

She couldn't help the laugh that left her. "Man. If you were going for impressing me, you coulda stopped at the door."

"Hey, nothin' wrong with swingin' for the fences, right?" He asked, that little smirk on his face.

"So...how did YOU end up working for Jakob Falk?" She asked.

Miles seemed to consider that. It wasn't that he had to think about the answer...more with how much to say. In the end he decided to trust her. "I've always known him."

"Always?" She asked.

"Since I can remember." Miles nodded.

"So...you just slid on into this...position?" The waitress returned, sliding a pair of glasses before them. Tessa smiled up to her, but the woman, had a hint of something...disapproving in her own smile. She did not belong. Not yet.

Miles nodded to Sophie and took up his glass, taking a sip of the exorbitantly priced whiskey. His gaze again fell on Tessa. "I earned it."

There was something dark in his voice. A sort of harsh pride, that was borderline insulted by her insinuation. "With Mr. Falk, you are handed nothing. It took a lot, but...I convinced him of my worth."

Tessa's smile fell, then, feeling she'd crossed the line. "Sorry."

Again, that charm returned, Miles looking apologetic. "No, I'm sorry. It's, uh...I get a little...defensive about it. He took me in, made me the man I am today. I owe him everything."

Tessa forced a smile and took a sip of the scotch, her eyes widening as it burned down her throat. She was certainly not used to that, and started coughing. Miles laughed.

"Not a big scotch girl, huh?" He asked with a grin.

Tessa finished her coughing fit and chuckled. "Mm. No. Not exactly."

"It's an acquired taste." He nodded. Tessa blew out a lungful of air and took another sip, this time taking it a bit better, her eyes narrowing just slightly. "So. How'd you get into the music biz?"

Tessa shrugged. "My mom. As soon as I could talk, she had me in voice lessons. Entered me into competitions and school plays and all that stuff...."

Miles lifted his chin, getting a read on her. "Oh...so let me guess. Wanted to be a singer herself, but-"

"Never had the talent?" Tessa finished for him. "Bullseye."

"And she saddled you with the career she wanted. Class." He scoffed with a shake of his head.

"I mean, don't get me wrong...I love singing. I love creating music...but..."

"Sometimes you just want to be a normal girl?" he tilted his head.

Tessa was stunned by how observant he was. He read her like a book. She nodded slowly. His eyes flicked to one side and then back. It was so quick, she almost didn't notice. Almost. She looked where he had, the short-haired woman from the other night standing at the bar, glancing their way. Unlike the other women in attendance, she wore an impeccably tailored suit, those sharp features regarding her like a flea.

"Ruby." Miles said, calling her attention back. "She trained me. Only other person to sit at his side. Not big on conversation, but a good person to have backing you in a fight."

"You get in a lot of those?" Tessa asked.

"My fair share."

"You know, most people's fair share of fist fights generally sits around...zero." Tessa snickered.

"Yeah, I guess." He responded with a grin. "But you learn a lot about yourself in a fight. Ever been?"

"You inviting me?" She asked with a quirked brow.

Miles laughed and held up his hands. "Nonono. Wouldn't ever dream of it."

"You think I couldn't handle myself?" She asked, feigning offense.

"I think you're a decent person." He eyed her intently.

"I'm not. I'm really, really not."

"Who told you that?" He asked.

Tessa wasn't entirely sure how to respond, her lips parting and eyes dropping. She knew exactly who told her. Her mother, Tony...it wasn't until Simon that she actually felt she could be better.

"They hit you?" Miles asked gently.

Now, this was getting freaky, she thought.For a moment, she was certain he had to have been spying. He could see it in her body language, the way she suddenly seemed wary.

"Okay." She said, narrowing her eyes. "What is this?"

"What?" Miles asked, genuine confusion in his eyes.

"Are you fucking with me or something?" Tessa asked.

"What' Tessa, no."

"Then how do you know all this shit about me" You can't possibly." She insisted. "Are you watching me" Are you spying on me?"

Miles shook his head slowly. "Tessa...I don't need to. I can read it in your eyes. I see it in the way you carry yourself. You've been through...something awful. And I'm willing to bet it was because of them. It doesn't take a mind reader or a spy."

"You swear to me." She demanded.

"Tessa, it's my job to figure people out on the spot..."

"Swear!" She said, standing. "Or I'm leaving."

"I swear." He said, holding his hands out placatingly. "Please. Just sit. Stay."

The girl wasn't sure how to handle it all, but there was no lie in his eyes. She sighed and slumped down into her chair. "I'm sorry. It's just...it's not something I like to talk about."

Miles regarded her compassionately, quiet a moment. "Step dad?"

She nodded.

"I'm sorry." He said. Silence settled over the table until she looked up to him.

"Can we go?" She asked.

"Of course." He said, rising and calling to the waitress. "Sophie?"

The Frenchwoman nodded to him. "On Mr. Falk's tab. Absolument."

The pair grabbed their coats and headed out, Ruby's hawk-like eyes following them until the door shut behind them The ride home was silent. He seemed to know when conversation wasn't called for. They'd touched on an uncomfortable subject, and instead of trying to fix it, he let her have her space. The Audi rolled to a stop in the guest drop-off area. They sat there a moment, quiet.

"I'm sorry if I ruined the evening." Miles said, sparing her only a glance.

"No. It was...I actually really enjoyed myself. I'm sorry I'm a bit of a mess." She said.

"You were great." He assured her. Again that silence settled in. "Can I walk you to your door?"

Tessa couldn't help the grin that crossed her lips. "Walk me to my door" Am I going to get jumped on the way or something?"

Miles sniffed out a laugh and turned to her. "I'd just...feel better if I did. Can I?"

Tessa opened her mouth to say something sharp...but it didn't come out. "Yeah. Sure." she agreed.

They rode the elevator up to her floor and walked down the hall to the double doors of the penthouse. She turned to him, a hint of bashfulness suddenly taking her. "Well...I really did have a nice time. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Miles said. "Thank you for a nice evening. I promise, if we get to do it again, I'll keep the conversation a little lighter."

She laughed quietly and nodded.

"There will be a next time, yeah?" Miles asked hopefully.

"Oh...Definitely." She nodded sincerely.

Before another word could be said, the door was whipped open. Mary Bradley stood on the other side, haggard without her make up.

"Where the HELL have you been"!" She demanded of her daughter. "I have been CALLING you for the past two hours! Your bodyguard said you ran off on him at the concert! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Tessa glared and walked in right past her. "Mom, not now."

"No, God damn it! I want to know! You're not to be on your own and you know it! You're not running around with that guttertrash Toews anymore. I'm not having you end up on some fucking tabloid, ruining this for me!"

"Ruining it for YOU"!" Tessa shouted back in disbelief. "You think this is about you?!"

Tony came swaggering out of their room. "Oh, here we go. Let's hear it. Run your fuckin' mouth again you little tramp. Come on."

"Fuck you, Tony." Tessa muttered under her breath.

"What was that?" He asked, hands going to his belt buckle.

Miles stepped in then. "Mrs. Bradley. Hi." He turned to Tony. "Hello, there."

The adults turned to him. Why was he addressing them' Probably another redneck piece of shit like SImon, they thought.

"Who the fuck are you?" Tony asked.

Miles played it aloof, smiling to the man. "Oh. My manners. I apologize. My name is Miles. Tessa and I went out for a bit tonight. Just to blow off some steam. I assure you, I took good care of her and, I'm sure you'll be pleased to know, made certain she was never in any danger."

Tessa gave him a pleading look, but he just gestured, saying he had it well in hand.

"So you're the little son of a bitch who helped her get outta there?"

Miles tilted his head to one side, eyeing the man curiously. "Sir. There's no need for that kind of talk."

"Listen, you little needle dick, you have exactly five seconds-"

"I'm sure Mr. Falk will be happy to confirm the strength of my character." Miles said, with a smile, looking Tony right in the eye.

"Mr. Falk?" Tony said, stopping in his tracks, a shadow of fear creeping across his face. "Jakob Falk?"

"Yes." Miles said amiably. "My employer."

A wave of realization came over Mary and Tony. This was not Simon Toews coming in guns blazing and cowing to their daughter's demands. This man could see them ruined beyond the physical.

"Now...Tessa just needed a night out to relax. I assure you there was nothing untoward going on, and as you can see, she has arrived safely. Farbeit for me to...intrude upon your parenting, but I believe you should just let her get some rest. Wouldn't you agree?" He looked from one to the other, that fear set deep in their eyes.

Tony swallowed hard and nodded. Miles smiled to him, like they were old friends. "Excellent. I'm glad we could agree."

He moved into the room, over to Tessa. "Again. I had a great time. We'll have to do it again soon." He leaned in and kissed her cheek. She was completely taken aback at the change that had come over her parents. They were actually scared.

"Ms. Bradley." He nodded to Mary and then Tony. "Sir. It's been a pleasure."

He started toward the door, stopping as he reached the handle. "And I just wanted to make sure you understand...I'll always take good care of your daughter when we're out. Mr Falk would be very upset if I allowed something to happen to her." He glanced back and looked at Tony. "Anything."

Tessa was almost certain the man was about to piss his pants. That macho bravado was a distant memory all the sudden. He nodded and Miles smiled to him.

"Good evening."

Mulcahy was hard at work, preparing coffee for his guest. Simon sat at the old table, looking around and remembering. He could see the spot where Falk's goon had thrown him and knocked him out. There was a gouge in the wood where he'd connected and, for a moment, that pain felt fresh. He shut his eyes and shook it off. Even the kitchen was messier. Mulcahy moved across the tile with a severe limp, favoring that cane greatly. Things had certainly gone to shit.

"What the hell happened here, Father?" he asked, shaking his head.

The old man glanced over his shoulder. "Falk, I assume." he said. "Let leak certain lies about you and me and your disappearance." The rumors of impropriety had been especially painful. Never once had he behaved in an untoward manner with anyone. He prided himself on being someone who could be trusted. "People stopped coming around. Soon, they started moving with their kids to the other side of the street when I came around. Eventually, I got vandals and thieves...had to start locking up at night."

Simon frowned. He might not have been a man of faith, but such disrespect to a church still seemed wrong to him. Mulcahy ran a hand through that silver head of hair, as beleaguered sigh escaping him as his shoulder slumped.

"This town started to change after that. Businesses got boarded up. Crime went through the roof. Wasn't uncommon for me to go to sleep at night to the sound of gunshots. Just..." The priest turned to Simon. "There's a rot in the heart of this city and Jakob Falk is at the center of it all."

The old man looked to his leg and grimaced. "Even if this place weren't going to Hell,...hard to get out and clean graffiti and trash with a bum leg. Tried for a bit, but it got to be too much. And it gets even harder when you start getting older. Eventually, everything else starts falling apart."

The coffee maker beeped, signifying it was finished. Mulcahy turned and grabbed two mugs.

"How'd it happen?" Simon asked.

Mulcahy lowered his eyes, propping himself up on the counter, silent for a moment. "You don't remember" It happened that night."

Simon didn't have to be told which. Not many nights they'd spent around each other were exactly worthy of the tone in the old man's voice. It would be one of the last things SImon saw before being knocked unconscious and dragged away. The Father trying to protect him and taking a vicious blow to the back of the knee.

"Musta hit me just right, because he whacked me with that Baton and I never got right again. Doctor said there was a dislocation, torn muscle and some nerve damage and...just a mess." Mulcahy shook his head, letting a weary breath flow from him. "That night changed everything here. It all fell apart so damn quickly..."

Simon furrowed his brow. "I gotta ask. After was 24 years....Why stay?"

Mulcahy turned and looked him in the eye. "Because, I don't give up. I won't let men like Jakob Falk see me run. Not again. I still believe in the good of people. There's a lot of decent folks out there in need of guidance, and I intend to be here to give it to them to the best of my abilities. There's a lot of darkness in the world, Simon. It's never too late to be a light."

Simon had to admire his optimism, even if he didn't quite share that outlook on the world with his friend. After everything he'd seen and lost...he was pretty sure people were just people. Neither good nor bad, but capable of both. It just seemed like, more often than not, the bad deeds far outnumbered the good.

Mulcahy approached with the mugs. "Still take it black, I assume?" he asked.

A smirk spread across SImon's lips. "No, actually. Two cream, two sugar. Thanks. "

"My. You HAVE changed." Mulcahy joked, getting a laugh out of Simon.

"So..." Mulcahy said. "Tell me about yourself. You married" Kids" Any of that?"

A bitter little laugh left Simon's throat as he smirked to the priest. "No. Not exactly. Had a girl for a while, but things went south. Like they always seem to."

"Sorry to hear that." Mulcahy eyed him, sensing there was more.

"I...I had a daughter." Simon said quietly. Mulcahy just watched him and listened. "Sweet girl. Smart. Her name was Cici."

Mulcahy hazarded a little smile. He could feel the love in Simon's voice as he spoke of his daughter...but he noted his young friend referred to her in the past tense.

"I got into some trouble with a fella named Cotter. I crossed him and Cici and his wife paid for it. Threw the woman to her death and...and burned my little girl alive."

"God, I'm so, so sorry, Simon." Mulcahy whispered. "What did you do?"

Simon glanced to him. For a moment he considered whether or not to tell, but deep inside...he felt no shame for his response. "I wiped out every last one of those motherfuckers out. Cotter, his men, his whole operation."

"That was you?" Mulcahy asked "I remember hearing a bit about that here and there." Mulcahy was silent. It wasn't that he approved of it...but he could certainly understand.

"Besides," the Father said, "God forgives us all, even in our moments of greatest weakness, as long we repent."

Simon turned his eyes up to Mulcahy then, a fire burning behind those baby blues. "I'm not looking for forgiveness. He took everything from me. So, I took everything from him. My only regret is that it didn't last long enough."

Mulcahy could hear the pain in his voice. The rage that had burned nearly all his life and never completely went away. He felt for him. Part of him wished he'd been there during that time. To talk and console him. Maybe help keep him out of a life that would destroy the person he loved most. The younger man, sighed and stood, finally removing his jacket. The sleeves of tattoos covering his arms were revealed, disappearing under the sleeve of his t-shirt. Mulcahy paused a moment, looking at them.

"Mother of God, son. What are those?" He asked.

Simon shifted his gaze to his arms a moment. "Reminders."

"Of?"

"Every fight I ever won...and lost." He said, a bit distant. Mulcahy stared at the elaborate designs that snaked all across the canvas of Simon's skin...They covered his arms and he could spy them creeping out from beneath his collar. He noticed, for the first time then, Simon's hands. There was no missing the fresh black eye and the fresh stitches, but this was...horrific. Raised scars littered his forearms beneath the inked skin. "Some of them are pretty recent. Some of them...some of them go back to our mutual friend."

"Jesus, Simon. What did they do to you?" Mulcahy asked sadly, not entirely sure he wanted to answer.

"Locked me up. Put me into cage matches with other kids. Had to get real comfortable with beating other kids half to death. Sometimes all the way. Eventually, you had to just square it with yourself that it was survival. That you couldn't really be blamed because some 8 year old would never take another breath because you crushed his windpipe with your foot. Didn't always work so well. Lost at first more than I won...that was pretty bad." Simon said. "But the worst nights were when you won. See...some men never see consequences for what they do...so they think they can do anything. Take anything. Well...they took from me. Me, Anna...all of us."

Mulcahy tilted his head, something perking him up. "Anna?"

Simon nodded slowly, his eyes lowering. "She was my friend. More than that, really. She kept me sane. Kept me alive...gave me hope. We escaped together. Made it 3 months on our own before I slipped up. We had to make a quick getaway and Falk's people were on our backs. Almost made it to the train when they grabbed her. I tried to save her, tried to pull her away...but she just knocked me into a train car right before the door closed."

"You ever see her again?" Mulcahy asked.

Simon shook his head. "Tried to make plans to go back and rescue her, but Falk had people out looking for me. I couldn't get close without them spotting me. Even had a few near misses over the next few months, but always managed to dodge it. When they found my room at a motel, I had to leave for a while. Eventually, they must've given up, because I stopped seeing them around. Even when they were gone, I wanted to go back, but...I was just too afraid."

"You don't have to explain yourself to me. I completely understand." the Father had heard rumors about what went on in Falk's Fighting Pits. It was a poorly kept secret, but nobody with any real power seemed to give a damn. He seemed to mull something over in his head for a moment before he finally spoke. "Tell me more about this Anna."

"Not a ton to tell." Simon shrugged. "We fought for him, got each other through the aftermath, and tried to survive. She was strong. One of the strongest people I've ever known. Smart. Kind. Even when she was trying not to be, it was...somehow still kind, if that makes sense."

The younger man smiled, remembering her. "She could be funny when she wanted. Kind of a dry sense of humor, but my God, Father...when she smiled..."

A lopsided grin formed on Mulcahy's aged face. "I...I need to ask you something, Simon." he said.

"Shoot." Simon said, sipping his coffee.

"Did...did she have red hair?"

Simon tensed visibly, the mug lowering slowly from his lips. "How did you know that?"

"And...a scar on her left cheek in the shape of a T?" He didn't need a verbal confirmation. The look on SImon's face was enough. "I know her."

Everything he'd said about her was dead on, as far as Mulcahy was concerned. She was every bit the strong, funny, kind soul Simon described. The younger man blinked, processing everything he'd just been told.

"Wait...you said...know. Not knew. You...KNOW her?" Simon asked.

Mulcahy nodded, that little smile returning. "We write twice a year."

He didn't know exactly how to process it. Anna was a piece of him he was certain was just gone for good. To hear she was not only alive, but well" That was a prospect he hadn't counted on.

"You ought to look her up." Mulcahy said.

Simon's gaze shifted up to the priest and he shook his head slowly. "I don't think that's a good idea."

Mulcahy barely missed a beat. "Why?"

Those blue eyes turned downward. "I shouldn't even have come here. Everything I do, everything I touch suffers because of me. I can't do that to her. Not again."

They were silent a moment, Mulcahy just watching his old friend. The weight of so many dead and hurt sat on Simon's shoulders, dragging him down.

"I think you should go see her." Mulcahy said. He took Simon's hands in his and looked him in the eye. "I think it will help."

"I can't." Simon insisted.

"You know that isn't true."

Simon opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out for a moment. He would kill to see her again. But he just knew it would bring the mess he'd created crashing down around her. "What if I go...and I just lead him to her?"

"You think he cares about her anymore" He didn't when she came to me." He said, softly.

Simon tilted his head curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Not my place to say." The old man said. "Not my story to tell."

God, the conflict boiling inside was on the man's face as clear as day. "Simon." He whispered, gripping his hand a little tighter. "Sooner or later, you're going to have to stop blaming yourself. Go. Talk to her. I promise, you won't regret it."

Once again, the grey dreariness of the city was in his rearview, SImon behind the wheel of a rented Ford sedan. He expected there to be a weight lifted, like the last time when he met Kate, Virgil and Millie. He was running again...but this time there was no relief. This time, he was headed for something, completely uncertain of what awaited him on the other end of it. Anna would be there, but what would he find when he got there" The expanse of fields were now blanketed in miles and miles of snow, the sun hidden behind a grey veil of clouds. How the hell had he let Mulcahy talk him into this" One moment, he was heroically swearing off putting his friends and loved ones in danger, and the next, he was packing his bags.

After everything he'd seen and done, he was surprised to find himself nervous at the prospect of meeting her again. Mulcahy hadn't exactly been forthcoming about what she was up to, other than the fact that she was unmarried and reasonably happy in whatever life she'd carved out for herself. Part of him wanted to just turn around before he fucked it up for her. But curiosity, and some nameless desire drove him onward. He had to see her, even if she immediately sent him packing, he had to know it was really her.

His car slowed to stop at the crossroads, a sign pointing North reading "Haven".

"Bit on the nose, Anna." He chuckled to himself, flipping on the turn signal and cutting the wheel. She was on the far outskirts of town, Mulcahy had told him. The actual town took him back to Noble for a moment. That small, rural, salt of the Earth kind of place. He could definitely see the appeal. He passed through following the road as it became increasingly flanked with snow-covered pines. She lived in relative seclusion out here. Close enough to society to keep herself fed, and far enough away to be left alone. She was always the smart one, he thought. If he'd had half a brain, he'd have cleared out years ago. Maybe he could have avoided all the pain he'd been through in the past decade and change.

He travelled up the snowy, ill-plowed road until he saw the ranch. It was bigger than he expected. Stables and a large barn were off to the left and right of a large two story house, wider than it was tall. Wooden fences flanked the road, stopping in the large area in front of the house Three or four different cars were parked in along one side of the house, one of them a big, beat-up pick up. Lanterns hung upon the porch cast a warm light in the approaching night. Smoke rose from a chimney over the left side of the building, and he could see different people of multiple ages walking around inside through the windows. Did she have a family, he wondered" Hadn't Mulcahy mentioned she was unmarried" Maybe the old man got mixed up, he thought. Good for her, if she did. If anyone deserved it...

Simon pulled to a stop in the nearest clear space, remaining in the car for a moment. Once again, that fear came back. What if she told him to go away. What if she took one look and couldn't fake it enough to see him' He didn't think he could handle that. Part of him just wanted to turn around and leave. Let her live her life happy. Without him.

His eyes closed and he just breathed. In. Out. Let it go, Simon. Get out of the car.

The car door creaked open and he stepped out into the cold. His boots crunched in the snow as he made his way to the door, every step feeling like it weighed a metric ton. He was one the verge of running when that door opened. Simon froze.

Anna stood there. Her green eyes softer now, her red hair healthy-looking and tied in a loose bun. She wore a cream colored sweater under a slightly oversized rancher's jacket and a pair of blue jeans, slightly faded from wear. The scars remained, but they were less noticeable now. She was beautiful. More beautiful than he remembered. Just looking at her, his heart ached. She stared back, like she was seeing a ghost. He couldn't decide if the look on her face was sadness or happiness. Maybe it was a bit of both.

"Hey, Anna." he said quietly.

Her eyelids fluttered and a small laugh left her. "Hey, Simon."

The redhead smiled then, stepping forward and down the steps to him. Immediately, her arms wrapped around him and pulled him close. In an instant, the past 20 years disappeared. Simon held her just as tight, clinging to make sure she didn't disappear, the ensure he wasn't dreaming. Then...something inside broke. Wave after wave of emotion hit him hard and the tears began to come. Simon couldn't stop it. It just came. His breath came out in a quivering whimper, his eyes clamping shut. Anne just held him tight as his body shook, wracked with sobs.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes were glistening with her own tears, a hand reaching up and stroking his cheek. A chuckling breath left her and she sniffed, smiling up at him. "I guess we have a lot to talk about, huh?"

(OOC Note: Written to this music, if it helps. https://www.youtube.com/watch"v=wt_IoFlvKFA Writing this scene utterly destroyed me)

The world around her was muffled beneath a burlap sack secured over her head. Her hands were bound behind her back with zip ties. They were tight. Too tight. The rigid plastic dug into her wrists uncomfortably. Simon had been right. The time had come when everything fell apart, just as he'd said it would. Part of her was furious and sickened at what he'd done. It was the cause of all this. But, deep down, she understood. What that man had done to him...to so many other young boys...he deserved to face justice for what he'd done...but she knew it offered no satisfaction. How many men had used her just like that man had used Simon' How certain had she been that putting a bullet between her abuser's eyes would assuage any pain and shame she felt over what had happened" Killing him did not make it go away. It just left her feeling hollow. But, still...she understood.

Anna was roughly yanked to her feet and pulled out of the car, immediately going limp. She couldn't escape, but damned if she was going to make it easy for them. Her boots scraped against the concrete floor, the barest hints of light visible through that scratchy burlap hood. It was the smell that told her where she was. She knew it all too well. Three months hadn't been enough to wipe it from her memory. The men dropped her to the ground, the girl landing on her side. The familiar, cool, damp concrete sending a chill through her bones. Anna did her best not to panic. It was time to take things a step at a time. The only certainty she had...was that she would not fight. Not ever again. No matter what they did to her. She would find a way.

How long she laid there, she couldn't tell. Minutes, hours, it all blended together. When the door creaked open, she flinched at the sudden sound. A pair of hands grabbed her and put her on her knees. She jerked her body out of their grasp, defiant to the end. Footsteps approached, but she didn't have to guess whose. He was humming a tune to himself. Quietly muttering the words.

"We'll meet again." he sang. "Don't know where..."

Her hands began shake, and she tried her best to still them.

"Don't know when...but I know we'll meet again some sunny day..."

The hood was pulled from her head, the light blinding her for a moment. Slowly, she began to make out the figure in front of her. Jakob Falk sat in a metal folding chair, that fancy suit flawless and clean, his scarred face regarding her pitilessly.

"Hello, Anna." he said calmly. "Welcome back."

She didn't respond, just glared a hole through his face. He did not seem bothered by it at all. He took in a lungful of air, letting it out in a long sigh. "Anna, Anna, Anna. You and Simon caused an awful lot of trouble."

Her eyes remained locked on him, something predatory in them mingling with pure, unadulterated hate.

"I had such plans for the both of you." he said, turning his eyes up at her. "You were to sit at my side. Want for nothing. Fear nothing. But you just. Couldn't. Be patient."

The tears that welled in her eyes were not out of sadness. They were the expression of unfettered rage. Still, she never broke eye contact. She would not cow to him.

"Did it feel good" Killing Mr. Stills" Killing Mr. Larkin" Was it worth it, Anna" For some silly idea of freedom' Eeking out a living on the scraps of society?"

"No." She said, finally. "Because we never were free. Were we" No matter what we do, we'll never be free of you. Will we" You made sure you branded us for life."

"I made you stronger."

She sneered at him. "You truly believe that, don't you?"

"I do." He nodded.

"You sad, sad little man." she shook her head. "It ends now."

Falk was not amused. "No. No, my dear. It's just the beginning."

She remained defiant, smiling right in his face. "I'll never be what you tried to make me."

"Oh' Well, let me tell you what you *will* do. You will go back into the cages. You will fight. You will repay your debt to me. And if you survive...then I'll decide what use you are to me."

"No." She said confidently. "Never again."

His brow furrowed. "Come now, Anna. You know what happens in the ring."

"Better than you do." She fired back. "And I won't lift a finger."

"You'll die." He said plainly.

"Then I'll die on my own terms."

Falk wasn't sure how to handle this. She was utterly defiant and unafraid of him. Whatever Simon had gotten up to with her out in the world, he'd given her a strength Falk had not seen before.

"If that is your fate." He nodded slowly. "Then so be it."

He stood then, slowly and started toward the door. As he reached for the knob, he glanced back to her. "Don't worry about Simon." Falk said. "It's only a matter of time. He can't hide forever."

Once again, he began humming the tune to "We'll Meet Again?, low, slow, and haunting as he stepped through the door.

It didn't take long for the girl to figure out what was happening to her. Her body began to change and when she started to show, there was no doubt what was happening. Every day she waited for some pervert to barge in and force himself on her. But it never came. She never received visitors, aside from the doctor to check up on her and the people who dropped off her meals. It was not what Anna expected at all. Falk had her put up in a decent room, not unlike the motel she and Simon spent those months in. She was well fed and cared for as the pregnancy continued. For the first few months she rarely slept. Most nights, she paced the room, trying to come up with an escape plan. The door was locked from the outside. Falk had her on lockdown. She wasn't even certain where she was, but she was sure that if she could get through that door, she'd find a guard and the long hallway waiting her. Escape was not an option.

It wasn't just the hopelessness of the situation or the utter confusion of her circumstances that was the most difficult. It was the loneliness. Never having anyone to talk to or confide in was torture. Denying affection or even the slightest amount of joy made even the doctor's visits an event to look forward to. Falk excelled in these kinds of mind games. Months passed and her body kept changing, new aches and pains cropping up that the junkie doctor told her were normal. Aside from that, the conversation was limited to the clinical. Whenever she tried to talk about anything else, he either ignored her or interrupted, saying "We're not allowed to talk about that." There were people who saw childbirth as a miracle. Something to be excited about and look forward to. That wasn't going to be her experience. When she wasn't trapped with crushing lonliness, she dreaded the thought of what Falk would do with the kid once it was born. Would he be evil enough to kill it' Would he hold it hostage while making her do his bidding? The worst she could imagine was the man raising her baby to be like her and Simon. Put into the ring when it came of age and made into a fighter and sold to the highest bidder for those nights of terror she was subjected to in her own youth' It chilled her to the bone to even consider it.

Some nights, she'd talk to Simon as if he were there. Imagining his side of the conversation. In those moments of delusion, he'd promise he was coming for her. That he'd take her away from all this and they could live happily with their child, far from the reach of this hellish place. As comforting as the thought was...it wasn't what she wanted. She hoped Simon was far, far away. Living safely, never to be hurt again. One of them had to get out alive, and she firmly believed he deserved it most of all. Whatever they did, she would take it. She would be strong and persevere, even in the face of Falk's emotional tortures. Other nights, she found herself with her hands on her expanding belly, talking to the unborn child within. She told it about its father. About who they were and all their hopes and dreams. She apologized to her future baby for the world it would be born into. She apologized that she couldn't save it.

Nine months passed. She was awoken from a rare moment to true slumber by a sudden rush of wetness and stabbing pain. For a moment, she thought she was being attacked, but when she found nobody there, she realized what was happening. As she stood, the contractions hit like a mack truck, the agonized groans leaving her of their own accord. Panic filled her as she doubled over, sinking back onto the bed. The guards must have heard her, because moments later, the doctor barged into the room. He spoke to her encouragingly and gently, getting her to lie down. It was rare to see him when he wasn't strung out on something, and tonight, she was grateful for him. There would be no epidural or pain management here, but he stuck with her through it all. Over the next 9 hours, it felt like the kid was ripping her body in half...The agony was like nothing she had ever experienced, even in her short, painful life. It was only sheer will, adrenaline, and determination that she finally pushed one last time and the baby was out.

Exhaustion doesn't begin to even touch what she felt. Her body felt destroyed, her throat hoarse from screaming. She found herself trembling uncontrollably as her head swam wildly, the room spinning in a kaleidoscope of color and light. Try as she might, she couldn't catch her breath. Dimly, she was aware of her newborn's wailing. Weak and listless, she grabbed for him with one arm, but her body refused to respond in any way that might make a difference.

The room began to get dark, the world fading away as she was injected with something. The last thing she heard before losing consciousness was the doctor's voice.

"It's a boy."

The snow-covered city sprawled outside the window of Falk's office, a crackling fire giving warmth while outside, it was frigid. Was hunched over his desk, going over reports of some kind. The sort of business Miles found terribly dull and uninteresting. He was a physical creature, with not much of a mind for numbers or the complicated ins and outs of running an operation like Mr. Falk's. His role was simple. Go there. Hurt that person, or bring back information. He didn't need a degree to do that. He'd had his education growing up under Falk's watch. Ruby sat, her Italian Leather booted foot propped upon a vintage, ornately carved coffee table as she sharpened the little flip-out knife in her hand. The whetstone scraped along the sharp edge of that blade, ending with a "shink!" each time. The sound was beginning to grate on him. Miles knew she did it on purpose. If one didn't know the truth, they'd think it was almost flirtatious. But the reality was that there were rules to working for Jakob Falk. In-fighting amongst his inner circle was forbidden. No matter the ill will. Those who broke the peace paid for it dearly. So, they skated the fine line. Passive aggressively poking and prodding each other in small ways. Part of Miles thought it was in the attempt to get him to slip up and try something stupid. Give her permission to put him down.

Miles was elsewhere today. His mind on the blonde pop star he'd be seeing tonight. On things far more exciting and fun than standing around in dreary silence. The scribbling of pen mixed with the ticking clock and the "shhhhhhhink!" of Ruby's knife. Over and over again, seemingly onto infinity.

Falk cleared his throat and closed his ledger finally., leaning back in his chair, hand going to his forehead as he sighed. Heavy weighed the head that wore the crown, Miles supposed. He turned to his boss.

"Alright?" he asked.

Falk swiveled around to face him, eyes upturning to the young man. "Mr. Grieger is short again."

Miles knew what that implied, what would need to be done. Those who didn't come through on their debts faced a varying scale of retribution. Jonathan Grieger was a wealthy CEO of a failing company. Falk had seen to it that he had the funds to keep going...for a bit of a kickback. Thus far, the good Mr. Grieger was not living up to his end of the bargain. Twice before, he'd failed to pay up on time. This was strike 3.

"You and Ruby." Falk nodded to the assassin on the couch. Those predatory, hawk-like eyes glancing up from her blade, sweeping that a bit of hair from the short bob behind her piercing-riddled ear..."I want you to go talk to him. And if there are any issues...make it quick. He's a friend. We owe him as much."

Friend. A swift death was the mercy being Jakob Falk's friend earned you. Ruby closed the knife and slipped it into her back pocket, standing up from the couch. She was always game for a hit. But, Miles...he had a date. Falk saw the hesitance on his young protege's face, his head tilting curiously.

"Something troubling you, my boy?" He asked him, those eyes burning into his very soul,that laser focused intensity that leaving him feeling utterly exposed..

Miles snapped out of it and shook his head. "No. No...just...um. I had a thing."

"A *thing*?" Falk's eyes narrowed slightly.

"He wants to go off and plow the Barbie doll." Ruby smirked, pulling on her suit jacket. Miles shot her a dangerous look. Dangerous for her...and himself.

"Miss Bradley." Jakob said and nodded slowly, rising from his chair. "You've become quite close, is that right?"

"Yes,sir." Miles said, his nerves on-edge, a terror growing at what Falk might do.

"That's good." Falk smiled to the young man, patting him lightly on the shoulder. "In this life, we must take what pleasures and joys we can. They're so easily snatched away."

Something about the way he said that chilled Miles to the bone. Falk walked to the window, hands clasped behind him as he looked out over his domain. "I worry though, that you have misplaced your priorities. Ms. Bradley has not yet outlived her usefulness to us, Miles. Toews lives. Until we can dispose of him, he is a danger. We will need...leverage. The girl is that leverage."

Miles smirked, putting on a false bravado. "Didn't seem too tough to me."

Falk turned to him, he did not look amused. "You were lucky. You caught the man off guard. Next time, you won't be so fortunate."

"I can handle him." Miles was almost insulted, his eyes narrowing.

"You aren't listening. Do you have any idea what Simon Toews IS?"

Even the LOOK on the man's face had Miles take a step back. He just shook his head in response. He'd heard bits and pieces about Simon Toews. The boy who'd dominated in the ring. The one who'd escaped. Falk had done a good job of keeping the rumors and legend at bay, lest they inspire some other misguided kid to try the same. Now, though, he was confirming every rumor Miles had ever heard.

"He's a bomb waiting to go off. He's the storm that leaves ruin in his wake. You have no idea what he is capable of."

Miles had never heard Falk speak like this about someone. The man was always so self assured and confident in his untouchability. Falk feared nothing, but he was afraid now.

"Toews was like you once. Groomed for the position you now hold. A man of singular purpose. Focused. Determined. He's brought men of immense power to their knees and wiped entire empires off the map." Falk looked him in the eye and spoke quietly, but gravely. "We live in a world of gods and monsters and the only thing I truly fear is Simon Toews unleashed. Do you understand me?"

Miles swallowed hard and nodded. "Yessir."

"You would be a fool to underestimate him." Falk said. He reached out and placed his hands on the young man's shoulders, looking him hard in the eye.

"You'll continue your relationship with her. Keep her as close as you wish. But...when the time comes, I expect you to do your duty.." That steely gaze never left him. Falk was capable of terrible things. With a word, he could see Miles dead in the gutter or just flat out disappeared. As if he'd never existed. He hated the idea of using Tessa. To make her a pawn in this game just felt wrong. She was sweet. Innocent. She deserved better.

"You will call her on your way. Reschedule, yes?" Falk asked him, though it wasn't a question. Miles nodded again, slowly. "And then. You will go and do your job."

Miles pushed the doubt deep down as he'd done many times in his young life. With one last nod to Falk, he turned and walked out into the hallway to join Ruby.

Anna woke up before the sun rose, as she always did. She showered and dressed in a lavender colored sweater and faded old blue jeans, readying to wake Simon. She had to admit a playfully antagonistic eagerness to wake her surely spoiled and lazy city-dweller old friend to acclimate him to life here. Anna pulled her hair back into a ponytail and stepped out of the room.

"Simon?" She called out, opening his door a crack. But Simon didn't answer. She gave the door a little push, stepping inside. The bed was made and he simply wasn't there. A chill of disappointment ran through her then. Had he really gone already? That was when it hit her. The smell of coffee.

She descended the staircase and walked into the kitchen. Simon was stood at the counter, a dark grey sweater clinging to his slim, athletic form as he poured cream into his cup. Anna had to admit, she was impressed. Her old friend glanced over his shoulder. "Morning. Coffee?"

A smile tugged at her lips, she walked in. "Please." Anna made her way to the table, sliding into a seat.

"You're up early." She noted.

Simon sighed, pouring for her..."Yeah. I know." He said with a chuckle. "I spent some time on a farm a year or so ago. Got used to the early mornings. Now I can't sleep past 4 or 5 most days."

Anna narrowed her eyes in mock suspicion. "Man, what IS your life?"

"Chaos?" He responded, turning around with their cups and walked over, setting it front of her.

"How'd you like it?" She asked.

"Honestly?" he said. "Best time I've had...while it lasted."

Anna didn't need clarification of what probably happened. She could guess.

"Having that kind of structure and...purpose every day was the most peaceful I've ever felt." Simon said, taking a sip from his cup.

"What?" She feigned offense, tucking a loose strand of red behind her ear, "Our time in and out of motels, running from our captor WASN'T peaceful?"

That little smirk crossed his lips. "Not exactly."

Anna put her hand to her chest and gasped. "I'm heartbroken."

Simon snickered and shook his head. "How the hell'd you end up out here?"

Anna eyed him over the rim of her mug. "Our mutual friend. Was still kinda busted up from...well. I was in bad shape. Heard tell of people going to men of God in their moments of need. Mulcahy helped me out. Guy was a wreck after what happened to you."

Simon pitied the old priest. He never wanted that for him

"I think he was just happy to have someone visit and confide in him again. Someone who hadn't even heard the rumors." Her finger trailed along the ceramic rim, thinking back. "Anyway. He got me healthy again. But once he figured out where I'd came from something changed. He was scared. Took a while before he told me about you."

"You tell him about us?" Simon asked.

"Not specifically." She admitted. "Wasn't even sure it WAS you, and I didn't want to pry."

Anna sipped her coffee and sighed. "Anyway. He told me I couldn't stay. That being with him was dangerous. But he knew a guy out west, farmer with a wife. They owned this land. Good people. Took me in gave me a home in exchange for my help around the place. When I got old enough, I started bringing home what he called 'strays'."

"People in trouble." Simon pieced it together. "And these people, they didn't mind this?"

Anna shrugged. "Not really. They saw how much it meant to me."

Simon grinned. "So, you got them hidden around here, or what? I'd love to meet them."

Anna's eyes turned downward. " Would if you could. They were older, he was sick. Six years after I showed up, he passed, and after that...well. She wasn't far behind. Left me everything. Time went on and I developed a bit of a rep."

"The savior of the ass-end of nowhere." Simon said theatrically.

Anna snorted, finishing off her cup. "I do what I can."

Simon couldn't help but smile. Her life had become real, whole. Something he'd spent decades chasing and never could quite get ahold of. "Are you happy?"

Anna looked around, catching sight of the orange sun peeking out of the horizon, a warm smile forming upon her lips. "Yeah. Yeah, Simon, I am." She returned her attention to him. "Are you?"

He knew damn well she knew the answer. His silence was all the response she needed. "Come on." she said, pushing off from the table. "Let's get to work."

Her mother and Tony had gone for the night. Since Miles put them in their place, they gave Tessa a wide berth. She preferred it that way. Tony's eyes stayed off of her when she was around and her mother barely spoke to her at all. The conversation was not missed.

She sat in her room, strumming her acoustic guitar. Tessa was learning a new song she wanted to cover, her fingers plucking the strings slowly. Her voice lowered a bit, smooth and warm. "Tell me somethin' boy..."

She ran her tongue across her lips. "Aren't you tired tryin' to fill that void?"

The song put images of both Miles and Simon in her head. "Or do you need more...ain't it hard keeping it so hardcore?"

She took in a breath, eyes closing slowly. " I'm fall-ing...and in the good times, I find myself longing...for change."

Her eyes opened then, looking out the window at the chilly city. "And in the bad times, I fear myself..."

Before she could belt out the chorus, a knock came from the door to the hall. Instantly she was taken out of the song, a grimace on her face. She hated interruptions. With a grumble, she rose off the bed and walked down the penthouse steps.

As she peered out the peephole, her heart leapt. Tessa threw open the door lunged forth, her arms wrapping around Miles's neck. "Hey, you!"

He didn't seem prepared, stumbling back and barely managing to avoid crashing to the ground as they collided. As she pulled back, she didn't see a man happy to be there. No, he looked pale. There was a pain in his eyes she didn't expect. A far cry from the fearless, cocky boy she'd been spending time with. "Miles" What's wrong?"

A voice deep inside of her was certain he'd come to end things. She almost didn't want him to answer. His eyes finally met hers. Something had changed in him. Something was broken.

"Miles?" She said again, her voice small and afraid. Those strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her close, his mouth pressing to her's. The kiss was desperate, needy and passionate. Whatever was on his mind, he needed to escape.

Tessa was a bit confused at first, but eventually instinct took over and she reciprocated. They backed into the room, furiously making out, hands tugging at clothing, baring flesh as they went across the lavish penthouse. The moment they hit the big, cozy couch, all her worries and concerns went away. She'd worry about that look in his eye another time. For now, it would just be about them. Coming together in a moment of need that was solely for themselves.

Tessa lay, pressed up against Miles' side, her head resting upon his chest, just listening to his heartbeat. Her fingers trailed along a scar along his ribcage, one of many that rose here and there upon his body. A rough thumb stroked her shoulder gently. For how aggressive and passionate the night had started, now he was incredibly tender. Those blue eyes peered up at him, taking him in. Miles stared up at the ceiling, looking lost in thought.

What was going through that head" What had charged him up so much that he needed this so badly' It took a moment for him to sense her gaze, his eyes flicking down to the blonde wrapped in his arm. A warm smile spread across his face, the mask back on. His lips pressed to her forehead. "Hey, there."

Tessa's eyes closed, a contented smile upon her lips. "Hi."

"You okay?" He asked her.

Tessa rolled over, her arms draping over his chest, her chin upon her hands. "Mmhm." She nodded. "Are you?"

Miles made an odd face, a little scoff leaving him. "Yeah, I'm good."

"Good." She grinned. "Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

Tessa licked her lips, working up to the question. "Not that I'm not completely satisfied with it...but...what brought this on?"

That smile of his faltered just a hair. It was almost imperceptible, but she caught it. He mulled it over in his head before finally speaking. "I just had one of those days...where nothing goes quite right. I wanted something...perfect."

Her brows rose. "Perfect, huh?" She smirked. "Lil' ol' me?"

Miles grinned and shrugged. "Eh. You're alright."

She swatted his chest. "Dick."

Miles chuckled and adjusted his position, getting more comfortable. Tessa rested her cheek upon his chest. "Is everything alright?"

"I think so." he nodded. "Just a bad day."

Tessa's brow furrowed in concern. "You'd tell me if it wasn't...right?"

Miles' fingers ran through her hair. "Yeah...Yeah."

Nothing in his tone exactly convinced her, but he clearly didn't want to talk about it. She lay there and tried to quiet her mind. She didn't know what he did for Jakob Falk, but she was certain it had something to do with all of this.

Simon sat at the kitchen table across from Otis. The man was built like a wall, arms as big as Simon's head. And that face was stoic as a statue. His cards were dwarfed by his huge hands, the big guy just staring. Simon studied him in vain. Otis betrayed absolutely nothing.

Those sharp blue eyes, shot to his hand. Full house. Good hand. Otis stared like he was looking at a hidden image poster, waiting for everything to become clear. Simon chewed lightly on the inside of his cheek and made his decision. "Welp..." he said. "Call up Danny Tanner...cuz, it looks like we got ourselves a Full House."

He laid that full house on the table. The moment Otis saw his hand, his facade cracked, those brows rose and a cocky smirk came to Simon's face. That was...until the slow, low laughter started rumbling from the man across the table. Otis layed down a straight flush, and Simon's face fell.

"Well...fuck."

Otis laughed loudly, collecting the pot. "Better luck next time, Uncle Joey."

"Hey." Simon said firmly. "Uncle Jessie. At least give me that." Simon joked bitterly.

Anna walked into the kitchen ,pouring herself a glass of water. "Otis, you scamming Simon?"

"Just a friendly game, Miss Anna." He assured her.

Simon made a face. "Yeah, tell that to the five hundred I'm out now..."

"Hey, live by the sword, die by the sword, little man." Otis collected his winnings with a chuckle and stood up, leaving the room.

"I'll be wanting a rematch!" Simon called after him.

"Any time, anywhere!" Otis called back.

Anna grinned watching the big man lumber away. "Sorry. Shoulda' warned you. Otis used to play professionally."

"Yeah, I kinda figured that one out the hard way." Simon muttered, dejected.

Anna chuckled, making a pouty face. "Aww...poor baby."

Simon shook his head, laughing quietly. "Where'd you find him?"

"Otis?" She said. "About five years ago, he made a lot of the wrong people angry. Hurt some folks pretty bad out East. He needed some place to lay low and get away from it all. I took him in, and he just.....fit. He's a good worker, and he's great with the kids. Plus anyone has trouble follow them to my doorstep, they take one look at him and think twice. He's kinda the papa bear around here."

Simon nodded and laughed. "Yeah. He's a good guy."

"He is." She agreed. "So, what about you?"

"What about me?" He asked.

"You seem pretty happy here. Fit in pretty well with the group. And I won't lie, I'm alright having you around. Think you might wanna stick with us?" Anna asked.

Simon's heart ached at the question. As much as he enjoyed this place and being with her again...it wasn't him. Not yet anyway.

"I really don't think I can." he sighed.

Anna's shoulder slumped as she sighed. "Why not' Isn't this better" Isn't this enough?"

"I have unfinished business, Anna." He insisted. "I left a girl...someone I swore to protect...out there with him. I can't just run away forever."

"A girl. Of course." Anna nodded, her green eyes slid shut as she attempted to compose herself. She could understand wanting to help. Hell, it was her entire life's work. But she knew his methods. She knew how he'd go about it. "Okay. So...what?s the plan?"

"What?" Simon asked.

Anna took in a deep breath, shrugging her shoulders. "You go back. And then what?" She asked him.

"I finish it. Once and for all." There was that naive righteous, macho viciousness in his tone that unsettled her.

"More killing. More bloodshed." She shook her head. Exactly what she'd assumed. "You didn't consider a Goddamned thing I said the other night, did you?"

"Anna..."

"Bigger, more powerful men than you have tried, Simon." Anna interrupted him. "And still...there he is. What do you think you're going to do' Go in guns blazing, like some one-man army and take him down" Try to kill your way to the top. see how far you get?"

"It's worked so far." he said defensively.

"Has it?" She nodded doubtfully, bitterness in her voice. "Simon, he'll kill you."

"Not if I kill him first." Simon knew the risks. It didn't matter, he was resolute on seeing the life leave the man's eyes.

"Okay. So let's say, by some miracle, you make it through his people. You kill Jakob Falk. Then what?" She asked.

"What do you mean?" Simon looked perplexed

"You kill him. He's gone. And then...what? You wait for the next one" Bide your time living some...half-assed life you don't really want until the next damsel comes calling so you can repeat the cycle again? Because there will always be a war for you. Always someone to save. Always a reason for you to jump back into it all."

Simon didn't know how to answer right away. "I...No. No, when he's gone, then I'll be free."

Anna's eyes narrowed at him. He just didn't't see it. "You truly believe that?"

"You're damn right I do." he insisted.

"Because that's worked out SO well, thus far, right?" She shot back. "With Cotter, with this Vicelli, with that...hick out in the boonies. That freed you from it all, right' You were 'free' then?"

Simon didn't have a response to that. "Simon, answer me one thing...Has anything you've done in these pursuits of vengeance actually made your life any better?"

He thought a moment, a sinking, anguished feeling hitting him. "For a bit..." he whispered. "But then..."

"But then." she nodded, speaking quietly. "Do you think Cici would be proud of the man you've become?"

Anna could tell from the look on his face, it was a shot to the gut. Maybe she'd gone too far, but it was a fair point. She reached out and took his hand in her's. "Look...you can do what you have always done. Get attached, get involved, find someone to fight, and end up at yet another war. Or you can choose a different path. Well and truly free yourself of him. Of this anger and shame. You can be *more* than he brought you up to be."

Simon's eyes lowered to the table. What other choices were there" "How do I do that' This girl is an innocent. She has a chance at a good life...but if he gets his claws into her...I can't deal with that, Anna. I can't leave her to that."

"And I'm not telling you to." She said softly. "You get your friend...and you leave. Leave the city, leave Falk, leave it all behind. Just let it go."

"And he still gets to stay?" Simon asked incredulously. "Gets to hurt other people" Other kids?"

Anna sighed. She once thought like him, in the early years. But reality had to set in. "I know you want to change the world. Break the system down and create something better. But sometimes...you have to know your limits. Falk dies, another takes his place. You can't save everyone, Simon. But you can save her."

"Is that enough?" Simon asked quietly.

"It will be everything to her." Anna responded. "Trust me. I know."

He'd saved her once. Fought for her, gave her a reason to keep going. It meant more than she'd ever told him. It was why she was the woman in front of him today. Jakob Falk had tried to make her a slave. A killer. Simon Toews' kindness had made her human. He had made her whole.

"He wants this. He wants you to be...this." She looked him in the eye. "Don't let him win. Don't let him keep dictating who and what you are."

Penelope Jordan was a bookworm. A petite, plain, blonde girl with grey blue eyes most didn't give the time of day to. But, as a former clerical aide turned investigator, she had been responsible for taking more than a few extremely dangerous characters off the streets. She lived for it, devoted all her time to the job. When the agency was shut down, she found herself forced back into the humdrum monotony of the nine-to-five workforce. To say it was not idea was an understatement. So, when the Corrine Paige called her to look into the young man seen galavanting around with Tessa Bradley, it was an absolute godsend.

It wasn't easy, operating outside the system. Most of her old resources were lost to her, and her access to certain contacts no longer an option. But if there was one thing Jordan loved, it was a challenge. It had been one of the reasons her boss, Orion Parker kept her around before her sabbatical. The boy from the picture was certainly that. There was little she could find on him. The few in law enforcement who WOULD talk to her had nothing. No criminal records to speak of. In fact, no official records at all. It was like he just appeared out of nowhere. Not exactly an uncommon story in these parts, but still strange enough for her to question how someone from nowhere managed to find himself in the company of a girl like Tessa Bradley.

Jordan rubbed her tired eyes, running on her ninth cup of coffee. Her apartment was far from clean, files and documents spread all around. Aside from a fully stocked bookcase, there wasn't much to the decor. There were even a few leftover boxes from when she'd moved in far too long ago. The girl was hardly home anyway, she couldn't imagine when she'd exactly need her old yearbooks or the ancient quilt covered in ponies and cows her grandmother had patched together for her. Reading over the screen in front of her, yet another dead-end article about Bradley scrawled on some sketchy gossip site, she grabbed another slice of pizza,stuffing it quickly into her mouth.

She felt like she'd pored over every damn one of these sites in the past two days, reading some of the most ignorant, racist and frankly, creepy posts in the comments. Dudes were gross, she thought. Save for one or two, namely Coleman and Sam, she did not enjoy their company. After the thirtieth slut-shaming post, she sighed and collapsed back against her couch with a sigh. What she wouldn't give for unfettered access to the police database right now.

A rapping of knuckles on her door stole her attention. Jordan pushed up off the seat, readjusting the messy bun that barely held her blonde hair in check. "Yeah, yeah..." she said as the knock repeated. As she opened the door, Paige practically pushed her way into the room, all piss and vinegar. Jordan blinked.

"Yeah, come right in. Make yourself at home. Good to see you too..."She muttered sarcastically to the oblivious former detective.

"You're not gonna believe this..."Paige said, pacing.

"What's up?" she asked, watching her friend with a quirked eyebrow.

"I sat down with Jakob Falk." Corrine said breathlessly. Jordan's eyes widened.

"No." She said, disbelievingly. "And you're still alive" What happened?"

"I saw him outside his building, and I made him talk. He brought me inside-"

Jordan shook her head and waved her hands around. "Whoa...whoawhoawhoa! You went INSIDE with him?"

Paige nodded, frantically. "Yeah."

"Are you CRAZY?" She exclaimed. "Have you HEARD some of the rumors about him?"

Corrine furrowed her brow, almost annoyed. "Jordan. Focus."

Once again, Jordan quirked that brow. Did the former detective not know how much danger she'd placed herself in" Whatever, now was not the time.

"So," Corrine started again. "I talk to him, and...really, just as I thought, he was calm, cool and pretty much useless as fuck."

Jordan's brow creased, letting the silence hang. "You came rushing over here because he was useless as...eff?" Not a fan of swearing, Jordan. There were rare moments when she'd allow herself profanity, but those were few and far between.

"Well, hold on." Paige said holding up a finger. "I'm walking out the door...and who do I see?"

Jordan blinked, apparently she was supposed to guess. "...Elvis?"

Paige gave her a withering look. "Our guy."

Jordan shook her head as if in a daze, her fingers going to her temples. "No, Wait. What' How...what?!"

"I'm about to walk out and he's on the other side of the door." Paige said slowly, a grin forming across her lips. "He works for Falk."

A wave of realization crossed over Jordan's face. She practically charged for her laptop, plopping down onto the couch, her fingers flying over the keys in a frenzied pace. How she worked so fast, Paige would never understand. Computers weren't her strong suit, even when she had two hands. Within moments, Jordan had dozens of pictures pulled up. Falk at various events over the years, and in the past 3 years a familiar face began showing up at his side. The boy never spoke publicly, never appeared as more than a face in the background.

Jordan grinned brightly, a giddy laugh leaving her. "Oh, it is ON now."

Paige pulled off her jacket and tossed it on a chair, taking a seat beside her and the two of them went to work.

Hours passed, public records were scoured, and several slices of pepperoni were devoured. For Paige, fatigue was setting in, but Jordan was a machine. The girl was an endless fount of energy, every new bit of information gleaned like fuel, sustaining her for another hour. Paige paced around the room, trying to keep the adrenaline flowing. She studied her former colleague's place. Mainly its perpetual state of disorder. Newly washed clothing hung wherever she could find space after doing the laundry. Near the front door was a pile of take-out boxes and two or three plastic trashbags that she kept forgetting to take out to the dumpster. Along the back wall, boxes were stacked, with various rooms and the contents scrawled in red permanent marker. The only one that seemed open was marked "dishes".

"So, you just move in, or...." Paige asked.

Jordan glanced over her shoulder, a mouth full of pizza, her eyebrows raised curiously. "Hm?"

Paige gestured to the boxes and Jordan realized what she was asking. "Mm!" she exclaimed, swallowing the big chunk of cheese and dough as her head shook. "No. Been here a few years." She covered her mouth and then wiped her lips with a napkin.

"Seriously?" Paige said incredulously, looking at the scattered files, makeshift furniture and stacks of paperwork. Their boss, Parker would have a nervous breakdown if she ever came here. "How do you keep track of everything in here?"

Jordan smirked and tapped her temple. "Got a system."

"A system." Paige quirked a brow. "Does it involve lots of never finding things again?"

"Hey, you do what works for you and I do what works for me." Jordan said. "Frankly, MY record speaks for itself."

That wasn't up for argument. Jordan had a hand in bringing down some seriously bad dudes, including a serial killer and few drug kingpins. Corrine shrugged and walked to a stack of magazines. Tech publications mingled with old issues of Cosmo and one issue of "Guns and Ammo". Penelope Jordan was an enigma. In the office, she was meticulous, almost obsessive. Everything put in its exact right place. She supposed that was Parker's influence at play. Or the girl's insistence at always being on her good side. Paige always assumed she was probably the ultimate teacher's pet back in the day.

Jordan snapped her fingers repeatedly, waving Corrine over. "Hey. Heyheyheyhey, check this out, check this out." She pointed down at her screen, an obituary on-screen. Benjamin Comstock, disgraced doctor, died of an overdose right around the time they knew Simon to have escaped.

"Yeah?" Paige didn't see the connection. "And?"

Jordan closed the window to show a picture from the funeral. In attendance were Jakob Falk and several known accomplices. Paige suddenly found the thread her younger friend was following. Simon hadn't mentioned names, but he'd mentioned a doctor once or twice during their discussions while he was locked up. If everything Toews had said about his time under Falk's watch was true, they would need a doctor to patch the kids up. And if Comstock was dead, there had to be a replacement.

Jordan reached for another slice, finding the box completely empty. "Aww..." She frowned in disappointment, but pushed on. "Any way, I've got a few leads. Nothing concrete."

"Well, from what Toews told me about what went on there, no respectable doctor is going to take up a gig like that." Paige yawned. "Can you pull up anything about doctors who lost their licenses from around that time, specifically within the city?"

"Who you talkin' to?" Jordan smirked brightly, given the shot in the arm she needed. For the next half hour she was in her element. Paige's pacing eventually came to an end. She curled up in a loveseat, her eyelids getting heavier and heavier. She was almost asleep when she heard Jordan speak again.

"Hey. Aurora" she said to her friend. Paige's eyes snapped open.

Corrine struggled to sit up, her brow furrowed in confusion and discomfort. "Aurora?"

"Yeah. You know" Sleeping Beauty?" Jordan said as if Corrine were the weird one for not knowing this. Paige just stared. "Jesus, watch a freakin' Disney movie, woman..." she grumbled.

"You wake me up just for Disney trivia?" Paige asked.

?"Fun as that sounds...I Found something." Jordan grinned.

Paige groaned as she stood, stretching her back. "What's up?"

"23 results, most of them dead." Jordan told her. "But these three..."

She turned to computer toward Corrine. David R. Olsen, 72. Patrick T. Healey, 58. David K. Steinman, 55. "Olsen runs a car lot and Healey's in real estate...but Steinman...he's a bit of a ghost. Lost his license for pilfering his hospital's stash. Somebody loves him some oxy..."

"Yeah' That's a good start. Work history?" Corrine leaned forward, her arm propped on her knee.

"After getting shitcanned" Nada. That's where the well runs dry. I have a residence, though. Owns an apartment on the North Side from what I can tell. Not a bad neighborhood, either." Jordan said, glancing over her shoulder. "Too nice for an unemployed junkie."

"You think somebody's bankrolling him?" Paige inquired.

"Well, he ain't running a fortune 500, that's for darn sure."

That detective's intuition was kicking into overdrive. That was their guy. Something inside of her just knew it. But hunches didn't amount to much in the real world. They needed proof. "It's not enough." Paige sighed.

"Then, we need to find something more. But...I'm kind of at a wall here." Jordan muttered.

Paige smirked up at her, teasing. "Wow. Penelope Jordan. Admitting defeat. Never thought I'd see the day."

Jordan scrunched her name. "Ugh. Don't call me that." She despised her first name. Jordan just sounded so much cooler. "Besides...there are some things even I can't do." OH, did she ever lay on the haughty, self-satisfied tone.

"Mmhmm." Paige shot her a look, barely suppressing the grin. Those wheels in Paige's head turned at mean rate. They could pore over public records until they went blind or mad, but eventually, they'd need someone who could do what they could not. Someone who knew how to operate beyond the legitimate and get into places...and company they could not. And Corrine had a feeling she knew exactly who to turn to.

Miles stepped through as the elevator doors parted. Jakob had called him in earlier in the day, forcing him to leave early from a nice lunch with Tessa. He hated breaking plans with her, but when Falk came calling, you didn't say no.

The doors to Jakob's office opened as he approached, Ruby on the other side, eying him with her usual disdain. Miles only smirked to her as he passed. It pissed her off that he didn't fear her and he knew it.

"Miles." Falk called out fondly. He approached, clasping the young man by the shoulders, smiling as he appraised him. "You look well. Doesn't he look well, Ruby?"

Ruby only rolled her eyes as the door shut behind her. Falk patted his arm. "Love suits you, boy."

Falk's phone beeped and he turned and walked to his desk. A sense of foreboding rose within Miles. He couldn't place it, but something was off.

"Yes?" He said into the receiver, listening for a moment. "Thank you."

Falk hung up the phone and turned to the boy. "Miles. Will you join me in a meeting?"

Again, that sense of dread rose like bile. Miles pushed it down with a smile. "Absolutely."

"Good lad."

Falk was leading him down to a meeting room on the 5th floor in silence, Ruby standing at the doors before them. He didn't dare glance to Falk. In his head, he was making plans should something go down. Ruby would have to go first. That wasn't the part he struggled with. Killing her would be damn near satisfying. But Jakob...could he go through with it' The man was the closest thing he had to a father, to family. Before he had time to consider further, they were entering the room. Sat at the long table were the high ranking members of the Gargano Crime Family. They had run a sizeable portion of illicit business in the west of the city. Gambling, racketeering, drugs, prostitution, weapons and human trafficking among others in their trade. "Gentlemen." Falk said amiably to them, ever the gracious host.

"Mr. Falk." Carlo Gargano greeted him. The man was well dressed, well put together, his thinning black hair slicked back, a permanent scowl on his round, doughy face. Falk took his seat at the head of the table, gesturing to Miles to take the open chair at his side.

"It's good to see you all here. Welcome to all of you." Jakob said. "I'm hope you're all well."

Gargano smiled to him as one of Falk's staff filled everyone's glasses. "Same to you."

"Have you met my friend, Miles?" Jakob gestured to the young man at his side. "Miles here has been my protege for some time now. Loyal...trustworthy...and one hell of a right hook."

Laughter spread throughout the mobsters sat around the table. "Pulled him up from the pits. Long, long climb, eh, Miles?"

Miles offered only a tight, nervous smile in return. Falk eyed him like a prized possession. "Loyalty. It's all I ever ask."

"Hear hear." Gargano raised his glass to murmurs of agreement amongst the others.

"Mr. Gargano and I go way back. See, when I was coming up, younger than even you, Miles...Carlo and I ran together. Back to...what was it, Carlo' Beverly Street?"

"Back in the old neighborhood." Carlo smirked, his thumb rolling across the ring on his pinky, gaudy and overlarge. "We used to laugh at this guy, call him the neat freak. Never liked getting his hands dirty."

A chuckle spread through them all, even Falk. He grinned and raised a hand. "Guilty as charged." He said. "I was the delegator. Give the jobs to the workers, make sure they get done. Play to your strengths. That's always been my motto. I never was much of a fighter, but Carlo here...well, he was like you, Miles. Tough. Bold. You set him to a task, and he delivered. Have a fellow who refuses to talk" You send Carlo Gargano in. That fellow has a knife" Carlo had a gun."

"Guy had a gun, I brought a fuckin' tank." Gargano laughed with his men.

"So." Falk said with a grn. "When I took over operations, I remembered Mr. Gargano. Because...loyalty matters."

A long silence held the room as Jakob eyed the boy. The smile returned as Falk raised his glass. "To loyalty."

The others rose their own, repeating the word. Miles brought his glass up, but before he could bring it to his lips, he felt a hand touch his forearm. His eyes shot to Falk, who also did not drink. Slowly he became aware of what was happening.

"In our world, loyalty is key." Falk said. "Discretion is key. And if I ever found a friend...showing a lack of discretion...or betraying my trust..." Falk's head cocked to one side, suggesting something brutal would happen.

Gargano chuckled...and coughed. His face turned from jovial to concerned, his hand rising to his throat. Again he coughed, as did the others in his party. Falk rose from his chair. "My trust is not freely given. It is earned."

The coughing fits continued, giving way to gasping and wheezing as foam began to build in some men's mouths.

"A pity Mr. Gargano could not live up to my expectations." Falk said, staring into the betrayed, confused, terror filled eyes of Carlo Gargano. "Should I ever find that anyone...and I mean anyone in my employ is betraying that trust...as Mr. Gargano has..."

Gargano climbed out of his chair, struggling to breath as his eyes turned blood red, his face beginning to purple as he clasped the table so hard Miles thought it might crack to wood. The man jerked violently and suddenly vomited blood and foam all over the polished wood. His men clawed at their throats, blood running out of their nostrils, ears, mouths and eyes, their bodies convulsing violently. Ruby looked down in disgust as one of the mafiosos crawled to her feet, kicking him over into his back.

Falk turned his eyes on Miles, and not on the horror show going on around them. "Should someone forget the price of my trust...forget the fortunes I've granted them...should they seek to betray me...supplant me...offer me up to my enemies..."

Carlo Gargano fell to the ground, his blue face, splattered and streaked with arterial red as he spasmed wildly upon the floor.

"And I will strike back at them a fire hell could scarcely imagine. I will burn their world and all those within it to glass." Falk said. "Let this be a cautionary tale, Miles. Should you forget your place and how you got there...I will not hesitate to remind you."

Gargano went still, his eyes red with burst vessels, staring lifeless up at the ceiling. Falk stood, smoothed out his clothes, and headed to the door, stepping over the lifeless corpse of one of Gargano's men. Miles was left there with their bodies, frozen in terror and disgust. He never did find out the specifics of what happened to warrant this retribution, but then, he didn't need to. The point was made. Jakob Falk showed him well and truly what he was that night. It was a lesson he would not forget.

Corrine Paige leaned against her car, parked outside the casino. It had felt like a lifetime since she'd picked Tahlia up from that train station. She'd never figured she'd see the woman again after that night, but once again Toews had drawn them back into each other's lives. It certainly wasn't her first choice. And certainly wouldn't have been the route she'd have taken operating inside the law. Ms. Faras didn't have quite the squeaky-cleanest of reputations...but treading in dangerous waters as she was...Tahlia was the exact right kind of disreputable.

Tahlia was dressed not too dissimilarly to what she'd worn at the bar - purple silk instead of the tank top, and that blonde hair swept up into a ponytail. Her casino - and it was nearly open. Meetings - so many meetings, but she'd made a point to step away when she knew Corrine was downstairs. Crossing over to the former detective, she smirked, and rolled her eyes. "You know...you could have come in."

Corrine put on that tight little smile. "Mm...not my scene." Her eyes trailed over the glowing lights and glamour of the place. She'd spent enough time as a cop to know there was always something under the glitzy beauty of a places like these. But the grin that peeked out was clearly teasing.

"Been a while, Ms. Faras." She said, the smile becoming a little more genuine. "Looks like you're comin' up in the world."

"Please - you handcuffed me and pulled me off a train. I think you can call me Tahlia." Nevermind what had happened after. Vicelli. Simon. The bastard FBI agent. Her hand rubbed across her ribs, over her oak leaf seared into her skin. "Yeah - well. Being the last mistress of an entertainment tycoon has some perks." What else Samuel Adder had been she left unsaid. "You looking for a job, Corrine?"

A little laugh left her. "Don't imagine you have much use for a one-handed card dealer." She had a feeling Tahlia was at least vaguely aware of the situation with the agency, but said nothing of it. You didn't get to Tahlia's position without having a bit of knowledge...especially about friends and acquaintances.

"Actually - I meant as security. I need people I can trust. And - well, Simon trusts you." It went without saying that if Simon trusted her, Tahlia did too. After all, she hadn't turned either of them in. And yes, she did. She knew a great many things she should, and shouldn't. All knowledge, as far as the blonde was concerned, was worth having.

"Tempting." She made a little show of considering it, clenching her lips between her teeth, before shaking her head. "But I've got other plans." She offered a smile to the blonde.

"So." Corrine continued, "Find anything interesting?"

The usb drive was small, and slid out from under the edge of her bra, before being held out to the other woman. "I think this is everything you were looking for. Possibly more then. The man was - chatty, after he realized where his interests were." And Tahlia had been as good as her word. There was a paid spot for him in the best rehab in Rhydin.

Corrine took the drive and stared at it a moment. Her eyes shifted up to her. "This information could put you in a lot of trouble with that man. You put yourself in a lotta danger getting this. Thank you."

Tahlia smirked, and shrugged, rolling her shoulders. "You know what he did, for me. Falk can't touch me. I won't let him touch Simon. Or anyone else."

"I hope you're right." She said gravely. "I'll go through this...pass the info onto a friend I can trust. See if we can't put a bit of a hurtin' on Falk's business. You find anything on the kid?"

"Miles" Yeah. It's what we thought." Tahlia looked over to where the valet was bringing up her little Spitfire. "If you need anything, call the casino. Ask for Pop Tart. He'll get you what you need. I have a little trip I need to take."

The corner of Corrine's mouth twitched upwards into a little smirk as Tahlia passed. She knew exactly where Tahlia was headed. The former detective glanced over her shoulder just barely. "Tell Toews I said hi."

"Will do." Tahlia saluted, and turned on her heel, tossing a wink back over her shoulder as she took the keys from the valet, and slid into her second favorite ride.

"Tahlia?" She called after her, turning around to face her before she could shut the door. "And tell him I'm sorry."

She regretted sending him off the way she did. There was no telling what was to come or if she'd ever get the chance to say it herself. She didn't want to die without apologizing to the man. With one last look she nodded. "Good luck."

Tahlia closed the door and fired up the engine. She nodded to the one-armed detective. "You too."

(Thanks to Tahlia for her help with this one!)

Snow blanketed the entire area in a sheet of frosty white.  Night was falling and the moon cast its glow over the widespread landscape.  Aside from the barely plowed roads, there were no signs of civilization out here, the nearest town several miles back.  If he’d been looking to disappear, he’d chosen a helluva place to do it.  The path to Anna’s place was even less maintained than the main roads, the Spitfire struggling against the snowy path.  If it weren’t for the tracks previously made by a truck, She might have lost it into a ditch.

The warm lights of the ranch came into view as she exited a clearing, smoke rising gently into the gathering dark from the chimney.  Cozy little place with a barn and tons of land.  Not the sort of joint she’d ever expect to find a guy like Simon.  His scene was more dingy, raucous clubs or some rathole basement where he could pound some poor bastard’s face in.  Little House On the Prairie was not exactly what one pictured.

She'd piloted the Triumph through a lot.  If this trip broke her baby, Simon was going to be in for a lot less friendly greeting.  But she made it, and sat in stunned silence, just staring at the house for a moment.  The farm. The..."For ****s sake - "  She was having flashbacks of the months she spent hidden away at the ranch, with Tex.  Months only made bearable by the time she'd spent sinning like their lives depended on it with Simon.

Sighing, she stepped out of the sports car, grateful she'd grabbed a fur-lined leather jacket, and looked around at the rural edition of My Blue Heaven.  "Killer, if you ever for a minute, doubt how much you mean to me again..."  Not that he was there to hear her.

The sound of hooves upon the snow came from behind, one of the horses letting out a little snort, sending the steam of its breath jetting out in a mist through its nostrils.  Astride one of them was a woman.  Fair skin marred by a few scars, yet undeniably beautiful.  Her red hair was tucked under a light grey knit cap.  She looked down at Tahlia with caution in her green eyes, as she often did with strangers on her property.  But it was the other rider Tahlia would recognize.  A few weeks of beard was upon his face, more than she’d ever seen him with, but those eyes were undeniably Simon’s.  His brows knit in confusion,beholding the woman before him. 

“Tahlia"”

"Heyyyyyyy Killer."  She turned, and there was a long slow blink.  "Oh.  Wow.  I should have brought you one of Tex's hats."  She had one.  Or two.  Nevermind how she got them.  There was a flick of silver-green eyes to the woman, but, really, she'd come to see him.  Anyone else was incidental.  If Tahlia was capable of feeling overdressed, or out of place, she might have been.  But she was, for the moment, mission focused. "Surprise."

Simon slipped off his horse, boots crunching in the snow as he immediately strode toward her and threw his arms around her.  He clung to her tightly, a smile on his rugged, scruffy face.  For a moment he was content to just embrace her, earning an...interesting look from the woman upon the horse. He looked and felt healthier than she'd seen him, even compared to their last meeting.  He'd always felt a little thin, lean.  His time on this farm, eating good home cooking and working hard every day had clearly done him a bit of good.

She hugged him tightly, burying her face into his shoulder and tucking her nose against his skin.  The smoke and booze and everything else was gone, replaced with hay, and clean air - but he was still him beneath all of it.  She hadn't bothered with gloves, and light caught an obviously expensive purple and gold band around her left ring finger as she clung to him.  "You look good, Killer.  Real good.  Not sure I like the beard though...scratchy in the wrong spots..."

He pulled back and looked her over, a smirk on his face.  "You don't like the Grizzly Adams beard?"  He chuckled, running a hand over it.

"I do not."  She was smiling though, and reached up to run a hand along his jaw, her thumb just at the corner of his mouth.  Finally, her gaze pulled to the other figure, "Guessing it's not for me though..."

Anna threw a leg over one side and climbed down from her steed, approaching them.  "Simon's a man of manners, isn't he?"  She said sarcastically and offered a gloved hand.  If this was who he had shacked up with, she was as far from Tahlia as he could get.  None of her glitz, glamour, or expensive fashion sense...yet it worked for her.    "Anna Simmons.  Welcome."

"Nice to meet you.  Tahlia Faras.  For a little longer, anyway."  Actually, she and Eddie hadn't discussed names.  Tahlia Blake wasn't too bad either.  She hadn't, however, let go of Simon, not least of which because she was cold.  "He's better than he was, before..." Of course, then...well best not to think about that.

Her grip was strong.  No doubt from running this place for so long.  There was an intensity to her that was hard to miss.  Polite, certainly, but she carried herself with confidence and strength.  Yeah, in that at least, she was definitely his type.  "Pleasure."  She said.

Simon noticed then, for the first time, the ring.  His eyes widened as he looked her in the eye.  The corner of his mouth upturned.  “Really"  Tahlia Faras is getting hitched"  Holy s***.”

There was a, well, bashful was about the only way to describe that look.  "Yeah, shocked us too.  Golden Gala he just...decided I needed one.  Didn't...actually ask.  But apparently there's some Selkie tradition."  They'd at least been able to talk about the reality of how she and Eddie had become she and Eddie, so that helped.  A little.  "You're coming."  It wasn't a question.

The cir***stances that had led to it all were left in the past.  Whatever pain he had held onto from their initial parting was ancient history as far as he was concerned.  The smile on his face was 100% genuine.  "Wouldn't miss it."

A low voice came from behind.  "Miss Anna?"  Otis asked curiously.  "Everything alright?"

Anna turned her eyes up to Otis and a polite nod offered.  "It's fine, Otis.  We have a visitor.  Mind taking the horses back to the stable while I welcome our guest?"

The big man was happy to oblige, taking them by the reins and leading them off.  "Thanks, O."  She said fondly, approaching Tahlia and Simon.  "What say we get out of the cold"  Dinner should be about ready if you're hungry."

"Dinner" Oh I...it's a long drive back.  I actually came out here to deliver some information.  I have, unfortunately, a casino to rebuild and open."  Tahlia took a step back, keeping her hands clear. There was a - readiness - that hadn't been there before.  A subtle shift of weight and focus that Simon might recognize, or Anna - it was the way you moved when things had consistently, actively, tried to kill you, recently.  Tahlia had always been a fighter.  A killer.  Now she was becoming a warrior.  It took effort to stand down, and she gave a half smile.  "Not to be rude.."

Simon shot her a curious look, but didn't get a chance to say anything before Anna interjected.  "Well, at least come out of this cold.  You've come a long way.  I insist."  She smiled to the relative stranger.  Never one to let a tiny bit of jealousy get in the way of being a gracious host.

"That I will do.  And thank you.  I didn't realize I'd be surprising Ki-Simon with company.  Although from the looks of it, he's yours, and not the other way around." Tahlia winked, and looped her arm into Simon's for the walk to the house.  For balance.  Those heels were not meant for rough terrain.

The house was warm in more than temperature.  It felt alive, in a way.  The smell of a beef stew and sounds of mirthful conversation emanated from the kitchen.  Not just men and women, but children as well.  Simon slipped off the olive green ranch jacket from his upper body, his thick, waffle-knit henley straining against the added muscle the place had graced him with.  Before he could address Tahlia, a small girl ran up to him.

“Simon!”  She said in that little, excited voice.

“Miss Daisy.”  Simon smiled down to her.  “What’s up"”

She was practically vibrating with excitement.  “I gotta show you what I learned!”

Despite all the stories he’d told her, everything she knew about him, Tahlia had never seen him with a child.  He held a finger up to Tahlia.  “One second.  I’ll be right back.”

Daisy grabbed him by the hand and dragged him off, Anna watching after them.  She undid her scarf, glancing sidelong at the blonde visitor.  “So.  You’re Tahlia.  Simon’s told me a lot about you.”

"Has he now...and I would be curious to know just what that was."  Those oddly ringed jade green eyes fell on Anna as the jacket came off, revealing purple silk and leather.  There was the hint of a brand peeking out as she fluffed her hair.  This was...just Tahlia.  No glamour.

Anna slipped that slightly oversized jacket off and hung it on a coat rack, a little grin on her scarred lip.  "Don't worry.  Not ALL bad."  Beneath the coat was a loose, pink knit sweater that hung down to her denim-clad hips.  "He cares a lot about you.  Said you saved his life...in a lot of ways."

In the other room, she could see the girl placing a cashew on one end of a spoon and instructing Simon.  When he brought his fist down on the curved end, it launched the cashew into the air and Daisy managed to catch it in her mouth.  Simon made an impressed face and gave her a theatrical slow clap. 

“My turn.”  He insisted.  Daisy rushed over and set it up again, firing it off.  Simon had to get under it, but he managed to catch it, throwing his arms up like a referee.  “That’s it.  We’re the greatest.  Greatest in the world.” he said in a matter of fact tone.

Daisy giggled and exchanged high fives with her older friend.  Anna smiled at the little scene before turning her attention back to Tahlia.  "He's come a long way, Simon.  We both have.  He's seen enough pain.  I hope you're not here to cause him any more."

Her eyes were on the scene in front of her, but if it tugged any chords, there was no sign.  Her voice sharpened, just a little.  "Pain and joy can come together.  And sometimes - you can't get to that joy, without it hurting a little.  Or more than a little.  I have an empire to run, and a wedding to plan.  Do you think I would be here if what I had to say could be said by anyone else?" 

Anna nodded slowly, just observing her a moment.  She wasn't threatening or accusing, just trying to suss the strange woman out.  But there was also no fear.  Anna had the look of a woman who had stared the Devil in the eye and never once blinked. 

"There's only one other man in the world I would do more for, and I'm marrying him."  She said it matter of factly, one hand falling briefly to the pearl that nestled in her navel.

"We have that in common then.  When I had nothing, not even the will to keep living...he was there.    He's a good man.  Even if he doesn't want to believe it.  Ain't a thing I wouldn't do to protect him."

Simon came wandering on back before they could continue their conversation.  "Sorry about that.  So, what's up?"

Anna offered that tight, uneasy smile to him.  "Why don't you two take the nook.  Give you some privacy.”

Simon lead the way through the darkened family room.  Worn leather couches and bookshelves adorned the space, a small overhead light dimmed to almost nothing.  Through a set of glass double doors, was round, sturdy oak table before a big bay window looking out onto the rear of the sprawling property.  The cozy, rustic quality of the place might never seem like "him", if you knew Simon.  But then, the Simon before her didn't much LOOK like the man she'd known.  His bulkier, muscular physique aside, his smile was easier and there didn't seem to be as much weight upon his shoulders.  Those eyes, once always so alert and haunted were at ease.  Comfortable.  What horrors he'd been carrying most of his life seemed to be left in the rear view.

Tahlia followed him into the room, those strange pale eyes of her playing over a form at once intimately familiar and all together different.  There was a time they'd known every inch, every scar on each other's bodies with more intimacy and familiarity than they'd known their own.  A lot had changed though, since then.  She hadn't had the same silver cast to her eyes, and the blonde she'd used as camouflage then was permanent now.  Her glamour was gone.  But if she hadn't gained the same serenity he had found, there was a sense of permanence to her now.  His Tahlia had been a forest fire - sudden and fickle, burning out and popping up elsewhere at a whim.  Uncontrollable.  He'd been the one to show her the value of finding a hearth to call home, but it had taken something else - someone else to turn her into the creature who stood before him now.

  She didn't know just where to start - not with him.  Anyone else and she just would have blurted it out, feelings and consequences be damned.  But this was Simon.  "Killer..."  It was his nickname, only his - sighed out of her like it would somehow make this easier.

As he turned to face her, his face lit up.  Those arms, bigger and somehow stronger than they had been wrapped around her again.  There was a time when they would have just been tearing each other's clothes off, but now it was different.  He just enveloped her.  "Christ, I missed you."

Her arms found their place around his ribs and she held on tight, head on it's natural spot on his chest, the one she'd always think of as hers.  "I missed you too.  You know you've always got a place if you want it."  She knew, seeing him here, like this, that he wouldn't come back.  More importantly, he shouldn't come back.

"I can't believe you came all this way."  He said with a little chuckle.  "Ride's a rock polisher, ain't it?"

"Out here" Yeah - worse than the ride out to Tex's..."  Of course, the last time she'd done that drive had been the night she still didn't like remembering.  "I can't believe you're playing country mouse, Killer..."

His scruffy cheek rested against her blonde hair, a little snicker leaving him.  "You and me both, sweetheart."  She still smelled and felt the same.  No matter what she did or how her life had changed, he could still remember the smell of her hair and the feel of her embrace.


"Turns out"  I'm pretty good with horses.  Who'da thunk it?"

"It's that animal magnetism of yours."

Simon smirked down to her  "I like it though.  Hard work, good people, great food.  Obviously good food."  He said joked regarding the additional bulk he'd put on.


"I wasn't going to mention it..but since you did - you look good though.  And I was also not going to bring up how much s*** you used to give me about being out in the sticks.  Playing at being a good girl." There was a definite bubble to her voice, laughter hiding just below the surface.  She didn't want to let go yet, so she didn't - he'd always have a piece of her, and since she didn't know how the conversation was likely to end, she wanted to soak in every minute she could.  Lifting her head, she snuck her hands up to comb through the new-to-her beard.  "Yeah...think I'll remember you without this though..."

Part of him had forgotten about all the drama with Tex.  It felt like a lifetime ago.  It was amazing how quickly time could change a man.  There were things he'd done and said back then that would make him cringe now.  Still, though, he could smile and laugh, shaking his head.  "I think Anna agrees.  She said I look like I should be out brewing beer or chopping down trees."

"She's not wrong."  She wouldn't, maybe couldn't, say the other woman was right though.  Maybe someday, if the four of them ever sat down with drinks and a fire, five, if they could convince Corinne to come out, six, seven, if she and Eddie dragged Pop Tart and Lola out with them, a little nature would do them good.  Thinking about her strange little family led her back to the one armed cop, and why she was here.  "I saw Paige.  She said to tell you she was sorry."

He blinked at that, eyes lowering a little.  A million things had to be going through his head in that moment, but he just returned to her with that warm little smile.  "How is she?"

Tahlia considered her answer for a moment, and just - shrugged.  "She's herself.  Ok, I guess.  Sticking her nose in things, although she said she hasn't had to pull anyone off a train lately..." 

He managed a slight laugh at that.  Not his finest hour or best decision considering it almost got him killed.


"We didn't uh..." his brow furrowed a bit as he searched for the words.  "Didn't really part on the best of terms."

The admission brought a nod. "I know.  I saw the tape." Of course she had, even if it hadn't made the news.  Her web, never insignificant, was substantially larger now.

It was the first time she'd seen him frown since being there.  A bit of the old Simon crept to the surface.  "Yeah.  Little bastard jumped me.  Gotta hand it to the ****er.  He was quick.  Damn good right hook."

It was an opening, too perfect not to take.  "Pretty sure that's hereditary.  His daddy used to be a bit of a badass.  Hell of a fighter."  Some perverse little voice wondered if he'd gotten his father's other skills, but she was an all-but-married woman now.  And she sure as hell wasn't curious enough to ask Tessa.

"How the hell do you know his-"  Lightbulb.    Suddenly things came together.  Everything Anna had told him about the baby she'd lost all those years ago, even what little he could remember of the boy's face.  It hadn't been chance that Falk brought him there.  He was set up.  It was all a show, to pit his son against him.  Even if he'd won, he'd have been crippling, possibly killing his own flesh and blood.  Yeah...that had Jakob Falk written all over it.

"You're certain?"  He asked, full well knowing the answer.

"He's got your eyes."  Research and corroboration aside, she'd known as soon as she'd seen those eyes staring out from a different face. A hundred years from now, she'd still recognize them anywhere.  "Yeah, Killer.  I'm certain.  I've forgotten a lot of things, but not that blue.  And you know I wouldn't have come all this way if I wasn't."  Nevermind that if she'd sent anyone else, he wouldn't have believed them.

There was war behind those blue eyes now.  Whatever emotions that were coursing through him, though, were kept in check.  "Corrine sent you.  Didn't she."  It was true, he wouldn't have believed anyone else.  Paige knew that damn well.  It wasn't even a question, it was a statement.  Simon was quiet a long, long moment before looking up to her.  "What do I do?"

It was an odd question coming from him.  Once upon a time, he'd have rushed back, armed to the teeth and burned Falk's world to the ground...or died trying.  But...this was different.  HE was different.  For the first time in a long time...he was afraid.  Jakob Falk wasn't some lowlife mafioso.  Falk had scarred him in a way nobody ever could.  He'd spent most of Simon's childhood hurting him, and his entire adult life haunting him.  And now, he just didn't know what to do.

The tiny blonde reached up, thumbs resting along the hinge of his jaw, her fingers laced lightly across the back of his neck.  Gently, she brought his head to hers, forehead to forehead until those silver-tinged green eyes locked onto the blue she knew better than anyone.  There was a slow, soft breath before she answered, her gaze never leaving his.  "You let me handle it.  Okay, Killer"  You stay here, with her, and these people, and the horses, and you let the monsters fight it out.  He doesn't know what he's up against, now."  It was maybe the first time he'd heard her own her heritage, but not the first time he'd heard that anger-tight quaver in her voice.  "Paige and I, we'll get him out, and then..." The smile, the smile was new.  Vicious. Predatory.

For a moment, he almost agreed.  It would be easy to stay here.  Live in this bliss and pretend that a war wasn't going on and his friends weren't likely dying or hurt.  To let someone else fight his war.  If he stayed he'd be safe.  Anna would be safe.  But he'd always carry the spectre of Jakob Falk.  The monster might be dead, but he'd always be there for him.

No.  Simon had to see it through.

He simply shook his head.  "I'm coming with you."

"You're not.  Someone taught me this great little trick for keeping people where you want them.  You  remember Rocco, don't you - what I did to him"  That little piece of s*** motel you got me from' Killer..."  Tahlia took a breath, fighting every instinct she had - the truth was that with Simon on one side, and Eddie on the other, nothing could, or would, stand against them.  But she knew in her heart that she and Eddie couldn't live any other way than the one they had.  They didn't want to.  Simon had a chance, here.  "I didn't save you in Vicelli's office so you could keep fighting the same war."

"This...isn't...the same."  he said sternly.  There wasn't just the rage and vengeance-fueled maniac that Simon used to be in his voice.  It was something she'd never seen or heard from him.  This was a father.  Regardless of how long or how well he'd known him, Miles was his son.  "It's not enough that my son survives.  I want him to live.  I want him to know who I am.  I want him to know that when his father found out about him, he did everything in his power to be there.  To protect him.  I won't sit quietly and wait for someone else to save my son.  Not when I can make a difference.  I need to look Falk in the eye and tell him 'no.'"  That fire was back in his eyes.  "'No, you did not break me.  You do not own me.'"

His voice tinged with pain, becoming more frantic and agonized.  "I need to go to sleep at night and not see his face.  I need to know that I can close my eyes and feel safe again.  I need to be free of him.  Once and for all.”

He searched her eyes, pleading.  “Can you understand that?"

If it had been anyone else, Tahlia would have reminded them just who and what they were talking to.  As it was, the smoky-sweet purr hardened and cooled.  "An entire village lost to history, entire bloodlines erased.  All for the loss of one woman.  Because she was my mother and she was all we had in the world except each other.  And you ask me if I understand?" Her fingers flexed, and for a moment, images flashed and flickered against jade-tinged silver instead of the other way around.  Just a heartbeat, and then it was gone.

They'd held each other as they fought their own demons, and sometimes each others - as they clawed their way to each other sleeping or waking.  She knew.  For him to even question that she would stung, and she took a step back, letting go of him and raising her chin, drawn up to her full, still petite height, even in heels.  "Fine."

He was hurting.  That much was obvious.  He hadn't meant to question her.  Not really.  He looked her in the eye, the one person he trusted as much as Anna.  "This has to end."

Simon turned, and stopped in his tracks.  The scarred redhead stood in the doorway, her expression a mixture of anger and unfathomable sadness.  She'd heard everything.  He could likely hear the walls slam back up and into place the moment she was aware of Anna's presence.  Letting him see beneath her armor was one thing.  Anna was a stranger.  She'd seen too much already, and the only reason there was, would be, no consequence to that was out of love for the man between them, and the people she watched over.  Everyone needs a sanctuary.

No doubt, Anna would try and stop him.  Tell him to take Tahlia up on her offer and stay safe.  To finally just let go of it all.

"Anna-"

She held up a hand then, stopping him.  Silence settled over the room as she took in a deep breath.  When those green eyes opened, she looked into his in that way only she and Tahlia could.  Deep down into the depths of his soul.

"Bring our son home."  her voice was quiet, quavering, but resolved.
She had her own people to protect, and she had learned to let Falk go a long, long time ago.
Anna looked to Tahlia, then.  Not a word spoken, but a plea in her gaze.  "And please...bring Simon home, too"

There was a sharp nod, those eyes once more silver glazed with green beneath the sweep of gilded bangs.  There had been too many losses.  Enough to stain the sands of her favorite beach red.  That battle wasn't over yet either, although she felt the pull of it.  Wedding.  Casino.  War.  One wasn't acceptable, not when they were her people.  Hell was going come to Jakob Falk, and God help anyone who got in their way.

Simon rose up in front of the bathroom mirror, water dripping from his face.  The beard was gone.  He barely recognized the face looking back anymore.  He’d finished packing minutes before, deciding that he really needed to up his wardrobe.  Almost every stitch of clothing the man owned was in one bag.  Kind of sad when he thought about it. 

He knew something would drag him back there.  Even as he grew more comfortable here, he knew something would go wrong and he’d be right back in the game.  It was just a matter of time.  Only, this time, he really didn’t want to go.  It wasn’t something he’d expected, but nevertheless, the ranch had become home.  He belonged here.  People liked him and wanted to help him get better.  He could breathe here.  Here, he was free. 

Simon knew he could die going back to the city, and everything he’d discovered here would be lost to him.  Fate brought him the one thing that could bring him back.  The kid might have been a little shit who beat the living hell out of him, but he was still Simon’s son. And he was Anna’s.  The two of them had created a life.  Something amazing out of the horror that brought them together.  But Falk took that from them, too. There was only one more thing could take, and if it had to happen, Simon wasn’t going to sit and wait for some goon to come and try to kill him in his sleep.  That was never his style.  There would be no more hiding. 

A figure appeared in the doorway.  Of course it was Anna.  Her arms wrapped around herself as she studied him, a distant look in her eyes.  Simon cast his gaze to her in the mirror, watching her force a smile that quickly faltered.

“Hey.”  He greeted her.  Immediately he chastised himself for the lameness off it.  He never was much of a speaker.

Anna spared a slight smile for him.  “Hey.”

There were a million things both wanted to say, but neither could vocalize.  “She’s right, you know"”

Simon tilted his head curiously. 

“The beard. You look better without it.”  Anna grinned, but it looked as hollow as it felt. 

Simon chuckled and ran a hand along his freshly shaven jawline.  “You gonna be alright"”

“Why"  Cuz you’re leaving"”  She said with mock indignation. “I’ve been doing just fine without Simon Toews for decades now.  I think I can manage.”

A laugh left him and he nodded.  “Right.  Business as usual.”

“Damn right.”  She responded, clenching and shaking her fist like a boxer.

The joking bravado faded the longer they stared.  Both knew things had changed.  Reuniting had given them both a piece of something they’d lost long ago.  Neither was really ready to let it go again.  Simon stepped forward, Anna following suit.  They embraced tightly, as if it could stop everything that was to come. 

Anna rested her head upon his chest, a million thoughts in her head.  “Come back.”  She whispered. 

He knew it was a promise he couldn’t be certain he could keep.  He wouldn’t be going in alone and Paige and Tahlia had his back, but Jakob Falk wasn’t going down quietly.  He could die there.  Frankly, he wouldn’t be surprised if he did.  But his main concern was not with himself.

The pair pulled back.  “Be careful.”  Simon said. “By now, he probably knows where you are.”

“He probably does.”  Anna nodded.

“If he sends people, trying to hurt you to get to me…”

“Then they’ll regret it.”  Anna said.  “I know how to defend my own.”

Simon knew from the look in her eye that it wasn’t bluster.  Anna lived with the knowledge that he could have come for her at any time.  She was prepared. 

“So…” she said, that fake smile trying in vain to hide her sadness.  “This is goodbye.”

“Nah.”  Simon brushed it off. “Just...catch you later. ”

Anna nodded and grinned.  “Yeah.  Catch you later.”

Once again they embraced.  If the last memory he had of her was the feel of her arms, the scent of her hair and the warm, safe feeling she always left him with, he supposed that was more than enough.

The city seemed so much bigger and louder now.  The quiet of the ranch was peaceful, only broken by the happy sounds of those with whom he shared it.  It felt faster, more alive here.  But, he noted, it also felt angrier, dirtier.  The rot of this place was deeply ingrained in the city’s being, causing him no small amount of anxiety.  Winter was nearing its end, the snow turning from fluffy white to a slushy grey.  At least the bite of the cold had dulled some. 

Tahlia was off making arrangements while he was holed up in her casino.  The Golden Pearl would have been his kind of joint just a year prior.  But Simon wasn’t the same person anymore.  He felt out of place here now.  It was as if he’d been wearing blinders and finally taken them off.  Despite the flashy, bright veneer, Simon saw through to the darkness inherent in this place.  He pitied the folks sitting in front of slot machines pouring money in the slim chance that their fortunes could change.  He saw men and women at the tables blowing the kind of coin that could feed everyone on the ranch for months or even open an entire other, bigger location. 

He’d seen poverty before.  Hell, most of his life was lived in poverty.  He’d barely touched any of the money Tahlia had left him, except to help buy supplies when Anna allowed him to.  She was a stubborn, proud woman.  She preferred to pay her own way when she could.  Plus she was reticent to take money she thought might be I’ll-gotten.  But times were tough, and even dirty money could keep the lights on. 

Simon stares out the window of the penthouse suite, looking at the bright, twinkling lights of the city.  Somewhere out there, Jakob Falk was plotting his next move, hopefully unaware of what was coming for him. 

A knock came from the door.  He took one last look and moved to the door.  His heart sank when he saw the one-armed detective standing on the other side.  The pair of them just stared a moment, unsure of what to say. 

“Corrine.”  He finally said, in a hushed tone. 

She was usually the most unerringly confident woman he’d ever encountered, but here, she seemed...ashamed.  Her eyes struggled to meet his. 

“Heya, Toews.”  She said.  “Mind if I come in"”

Simon blinked and stepped aside.  Paige entered the lavishly appointed suite and looked around.

“Jesus.” She muttered. “Tahlia doesn’t fuck around.”

Simon took it in as if for the first time.  “No, she does not.”

Her fingers trailed over the marble top of a fully stocked bar, her back to him. The detective glanced back and managed a smile.  “You look good.  You put on some pounds"”

“Yeah.  Turns out hard work and good food will do that.”

Paige’s smirked.  “Who knew"”

Simon chuckled and crossed his arms, leaning against the back of his couch.  “You sent Tahlia for me"”

Paige nodded.  “Figured you wanna see a friendly face.”

“Coulda been your’s.”  He said.

Corrine’s smile faded, her eyes lowering.

“Yeah.” She said. “After the way we left things, I didn’t think you’d be too thrilled to see me.”

“So you sent the woman I broke up with via note and ran out on"”  He quirked a brow.  “Solid plan.”

Paige laughed, but her expression turned somber again. “Simon, I’m sorry.”

“It’s in the past.”  He reassured her.

“No...no.  I was wrong.  I should have let you explain.  I didn’t listen to your side and-“

“Corrine.”  Simon stopped her. “He played us.  Falk played us both.  And...to be honest, it worked out for the best.”

Paige knew about Anna in only the vaguest terms.  He’d mentioned something about her during their visits while he was still in lockup and she’d heard her name during one of his night terrors.  She knew he’d found her again. 

“What’s she like"”  Paige asked.

“Strong.”  Simon said quietly. “Smart, funny.  Stubborn as hell, but in an endearing kinda way.  Still beautiful.”

Paige smiled. “Working on a little crush, are you?”

Simon snorted.  “No.  No, come on.”

“Mmhm.”  Paige leaned her hip on the counter.  “You’ve become a shitty liar, Toews.  What’d they do to you out there"”

She saw right through him.  The truth was, Anna centered him.  She showed him a part of himself he’d thought was buried and gone.

“She gave me purpose.”  He said.  “She gave me a reason to live.”

Paige walked over to him and placed her hand on his shoulder.  He looked happier and healthier than she’d ever seen him.  For that, she was grateful. 

“It’s damn good to see you again, Toews.”

Simon smiled. 

“You too.”

(If anyone's still interested, I will no longer be updating this story here.