The status report looks good, Willow thinks, absently clicking her pen. It covers everything about Vale, from her clear willingness to help, to her equally clear anxieties about what will happen after. She included a recommendation for more long-term benefits, so that Vale would be less worried about there being no plan for her in the future. That kind of anxiety isn't going to be good for productivity, not to mention the toll it's taking on Willow herself. Judging by her thumb's constant activity on the pen, she's getting a little anxious, too.

  "E-excuse me, I'm sorry, but... Never mind. Sorry."

  Willow turns her head to see a shivering Vale, eyes locked to the floor. "You can talk to me, Vale. Or should I call you Laurel, now?"

  She doesn't answer, and flinches suddenly.

  It takes a moment for Willow to put the pieces together, as her eyes drift to the pen in her hand. "Oh, shit, the clicking."

  "I- I don't- you can do what you want, but if you had earplugs or something, I would be very appreciative, ma'am..."

  Willow throws the pen into the trash, opting for a cheaper one with a cap instead. "Seriously, you don't have to call me ma'am. Willow is fine. Are there any other sounds in the apartment that stress you?"

  "No, that was it. It- the pen sounds exactly like... I'm sorry. Thank you, Willow." Vale hesitates for a moment, but steels herself. "I'd like to be called Laurel, if it's alright with you."

  "Laurel, then. Get some sleep."

  Laurel has stopped shivering, replacing that fear with a faint smile. "I will.... thank you."

  Willow wakes up and wanders into the living room, and sees Laurel standing by the window to the apartment, watching the sun rise over the tall buildings around them.

  "You sleep okay, Laurel?"

  Laurel jumps a little at hearing Willow's voice, but she keeps smiling. "Yeah. Sorry again about last night, I-"

  "Don't mention it. So, what's the plan today?"

  "Huh?"

  "We're not working today. We can do whatever we want."

  "Oh. Uhh. I might go outside. Find a tree, and lay down under it with a book. As in a novel, not... you know."

  "Sure. There's a quiet nature center near here. If you don't mind the heat, anyway."

  Laurel laughs, before concealing it with a cough. "It won't bother me if it's warm out."

  Willow takes her car into the unpaved parking lot, wincing slightly as the loose gravel pummels the undercarriage. It's a nice place, lots of trees, lots of tall grass, even a gift shop and a few unreleasable raptors. Laurel is gonna love it here.

  She sets the car in park, watching Laurel's face as she peers out at a flock of yellow and black birds flitting from one tree to the next. Her eyes and mouth are equally open, as though she's witnessing a miracle.

  Laurel's voice trembles slightly as she speaks. "We can go whenever you're ready. I won't take up too much time."

  "You're not required to be attached to my hip, and this isn't really my bag. I'll see you in... I dunno, a couple hours?" Willow says. Laurel doesn't reply, but Willow can feel a dour mood radiating off of her like smoke. "You gonna get out, or-"

  "No, sorry, I changed my mind. This was stupid. I'm sorry for wasting your time."

  Right. She was in a tiny room for two years straight. Obviously, open spaces are going to be stressful when alone.

  Willow looks back into the rearview mirror. Laurel's eyes remain locked out the window at the chirping birds, and as expected, she's about to start crying again... Willow puts a hand on the car door, debating if she really wants to do this. Walking around in ninety degree heat sounds like hell, but... God damn it. She flings open the car door, taking her keys with her.

  Laurel follows suit, taking a bag with her. "Willow, where are you going?"

  "Figured I could use the fresh air, if you don't mind me tagging along."

  "Not at all," Laurel answers. She's visibly relieved, but probably going to start crying anyway.

  Willow watches Laurels eyes glance around as they walk into the gift shop to get cold water. Willow takes a pair of bottles from the fridge and places them on the counter. The cashier scans the bottles, her eyes fixating on Laurel as she stands by the corner of the shop, examining some kind of bird plush.

  "Are you with her?" the cashier asks.

  "Yeah," Willow answers.

  "Hmm... You know, she looks a lot like... what's her name..."

  Willow stays silent, ready to make a hasty exit.

  "The girl in that movie, the one with... frick, whatever. Anyway, you two enjoy your date."

  She rolls her eyes, not feeling the need to correct her. Laurel follows close behind Willow as they walk into the preserve, following the cleanly marked dirt paths. It takes Willow about five minutes before she's done with the heat and wanting to escape back to the air conditioned car. Laurel is sweating even worse, but is managing to enjoy herself despite the scalding sun. How the hell does she make sweat look attractive? Willow just sweats in droplets, but Laurel glistens. Completely unfair...

  After a few more minutes, Laurel finds the perfect spot to stop. A tree on a small hill, equally far from a thin stream's mosquitoes and the people staying near the entrance. She throws a picnic blanket down, and sits down against the tree, closing her eyes for a moment and taking in the acute yet gentle smell of old trees and dry grasses. Willow sits down a foot away from her, deep in thought. She saw why she was really tossed in prison: Counter-Magic tricking her into admitting she went too far in her research. She wasn't actually hurting anyone, besides the man about to assault her. For God's sake, Laurel sleeps a room away from her. Acting like she needs to be on guard anymore is a waste of both their mental energies.

  Willow extends a closed hand to Laurel, who looks at it with a curious smile.

  "What's this, Willow?"

  "Trust me. Take it."

  Laurel's smile falters as she looks at the closed hand. "I don't want to be rude, but I've trusted you people before. Didn't work out."

  'You people' stings Willow more than she expected. Hopefully, that'll change here and now. "Come on, I just walked in this ungodly heat for you. Do I look like this was my idea of fun?"

  Hesitantly, she holds her hand out. Willow places a round metal device in her hand, one with a button in the center. The panic button.

  Laurel looks at it in brief fear, and then confusion. "What... what am I supposed to do..? Do you... want me to press it?"

  Willow quietly chuckles to herself. "No, Laurel. I just don't want it anymore, and figured you've feel better if I wasn't carrying it around."

  Laurel looks at it for a long moment, her face slowly contorting into twisted lips and fallen eyes. She thrusts the button back out for Willow, looking away. "Ma'am, I'm required to return this if I find it unattended."

  "Laurel..."

  "I know what's going on now, okay? I know the rules, I've learned my lesson. You guys don't have to keep doing loyalty tests like this."

  Willow takes the metal button again, her fingers brushing Laurel's soft palm. "I wasn't, but... I'm sorry."

  "It's fine. I get it, you're doing your job. Just... please, let me enjoy the breeze without being reminded how close I am to never doing so again."

  Willow looks at the button in her hand. She should have known better. Obviously Laurel wouldn't trust something so forward...

  She stays silent as Laurel tries to relax, letting the sun crisscross their faces as it passes through the blowing leaves... there's no reason to tell Laurel about the files she saw. It'd only upset her if she tried to show sympathy. For now, she'll just do what Laurel asks her to.

  Laurel looks out of the car window as she's driven away from the nature preserve to who knows where by Willow... no, by Sergeant Valley. God, that was stupid of her. She let her guard down. She actually thought that Willow- Sergeant Valley was different. It almost cost her. Who knows what creative methods of fucking her over they've devised?

  Valley pulls alongside a hardware store, and silently leaves the car, leaving it running as she enters. Whatever she's doing, Laurel reminds herself not to fall for it. With Sergeant Valley, though, something is amiss. Why would Valley do such an obvious loyalty test, when she's been effectively gaining her trust in smaller ways? Is it just to remind her not to trust anyone, and keep her paranoid? But what purpose would that serve?

  As she's stewing in thought, Valley returns while holding a plastic shopping bag weighed down with something heavy and rectangular. She slides herself into the front seat, briefly looking back. Laurel flinches as Valley pulls out the button, expecting the worst... but she sets it on the dashboard as she reveals the contents of the bag: a heavy looking lockbox.

  Valley puts the button in the lockbox, locks it, and offers the keys to Laurel. "There. Unless you have a rule about not being allowed to hold the key to a lockbox containing the fucking thing. If you do, tell me now, since that stupid thing cost me fifty bucks."

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "Sergeant Valley, I'm not going to subvert the rule either. I know that-"

  With a frustrated groan, she drives away. "What happens if the battery on the panic button dies?"

  "Nothing. It... it happened once. Guy tried to press it, nothing happened."

  "Great. So if I just leave it in there, nothing happens?"

  "I don't think so, ma'am... I'm not sure what game you're trying to play here."

  Valley rolls down the window, and throws the key out of the car and onto the road. "There. Problem solved."

  Don't believe Valley, Laurel reminds herself. The sergeant's soothing voice is meant to disarm, not to reassure. What's the game here? Right, of course. "I know a sigil that can open the box. Takes ten seconds."

  "Of course you do..."

  "I'm not allowed to use magic to open it without your permission, ma'am."

  "Well, you don't have permission," Valley flippantly replies.

  "God damn it... I'm caught in a contradiction here. What am I supposed to do, Sergeant? Just tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it."

  "I don't want you to do anything. Jesus, it's supposed to be our day off, and I fucked it up and stressed us both out. It was my mistake, and I'm sorry. Let's not let it ruin the whole day. It's been great up until I did all this. Just work with me here, okay?"

  Laurel's heart twitches. Damn it, the geas. She's supposed to work with her supervisor; that's what the MBR Director said. "Okay. I'm working with you. You got me, whatever you want to do..."

  Valley is silent the entire ride back. They quietly reenter the apartment, where Valley returns to her room. Laurel looks out the window, sighing. None of this makes sense, not in that brutal efficiency of Magimax, nor her previous freedom before her life went to shit. The web of rules between the Director, Valley, and the task force is a convoluted nightmare, in comparison. The only thing that she knows is that the sky is there, and she's here. All this other shit is worth it.

  Right?

  Laurel once again looks out the apartment window. A full week has passed since her first day working for the task force, and she's yet to face any repercussions. She goes to work, she does a good job, she goes back here. Compared to the endless days of counting the exact number of fingernail-lengths her cell was, this is heaven.

  That lockbox is still rattling around in her supervisor's car, too, but she's forbidden from opening it. Maybe her supervisor swapped the button or something.

  Or... maybe she's being paranoid. There is a geas on her that says she's staying employed until she fucks it up, not that she'd stay employed until someone else fucks her over..

  Fine. If Valley wants to play like she's on her side, there's a way to test it. "Sergeant?"

  "For the love of God, stop calling me Sergeant, stop calling me ma'am, stop calling me Valley. I hate when you do that."

  She seems a little too earnest for that to be an act. "Willow, are there any cameras in your apartment? Recording devices? Magic transmissions? Anything?"

  "No, there aren't."

  "Okay... I'd like permission to cast a spell that detects any recording devices. It'll take ten minutes, start to end."

  Valley perks up. "Really? Yes, then. Whatever helps you feel more secure. I'm here for you."

  "We'll see." Willow has everything Laurel needs for spellcasting, tucked away in an unlocked drawer. It's suspicious, but she was given direct permission. Laurel brings it all to the table, and quietly assembles the spell she needs. With a final glance, she turns to Willow. "You won't mind if I cast a quick sigil to dismiss any illusions, too, would you?"

  "Not in the least. How would you like your eggs?"

  "Scrambled." Laurel tries not to get distracted. She hasn't had eggs in... No, focus. She casts a sigil, followed immediately by the spell.

  Four cameras, four microphones, no magical detection.

  She starts looking through the apartment to the sources. There's Willow's phone, the laptop, the unused phone Counter-Magic gave Laurel with the battery removed, and a fourth one in a drawer in Willow's room. Microphones are again Willow's laptop and phone, the bugged phone they gave her, and again the thing in the drawer...

  "What's in the drawer in your room, Willow? Why are you hiding recording equipment?"

  She keeps her focus on the eggs. "Damn it, I didn't think you actually had magic that could find recording devices when they weren't turned on. That's ridiculously specific. Go ahead, see for yourself, I guess."

  Laurel doesn't waste a second, and marches to the drawer. She pushes past a bunch of socks and underwear, and grabs the... Huh...

  She slowly walks back to the kitchen table, the recording device presumably in hand. It's a box wrapped in red and yellow paper, with an envelope taped in front, addressed to her.

  "I was going to surprise you after work, Laurel. The phone Counter-Magic gave you is almost certainly being monitored. It's why I bought my own laptop and phone, and I figured... well, see for yourself."

  Laurel opens the envelope, and inside is a greeting card, from Willow. There's no writing, just the silly little text blurb inside with a joke. She sets it aside, and cautiously unwraps the present. As expected, it's a phone.

  "Do whatever magic you want to it, if you'd like. Or tell me to return it, and I'll return it. I figured you'd want one."

  "...and I can cast a spell that'll tell me if it's bugged?"

  "You can cast whatever you want to."

  Laurel pushes it away. "Willow, what's the deal here? This is absolutely subverting Counter-Magic's intentions, right? I could go to Garza or Krastev and get you into serious trouble here. Between this, the lockbox, letting me cast pointless spells, and not surveilling me like I know you're supposed to be doing, I imagine you could get in serious trouble for this."

  Willow scrapes the eggs from the frying pan onto a plate, and sets it in front of Laurel. "Sure, but I trust you, regardless of you trusting me back."

  Laurel looks down between the eggs and phone... this is a lot of work, and Willow's getting nothing out of it. The apartment isn't even recording her.

  "Can I check these eggs for poison?"

  Willow starts cracking eggs into the pan for herself. "If you want. You want me to get you a binder and sketch paper, so you can have a spellbook? It'll save you time if you're gonna have to redraw the spell for every meal. Oh, or we can just switch plates, whatever's easier."

  Laurel stays silent, and takes a bite, not bothering with the spell. Willow cracks a slight smile.

  Damn her. Why the hell is her smile so compelling?

  Laurel's eyes stay focused at the ancient text in front of her, or rather, what remains of it. It's a hundred broken shards of papyrus, all carefully assembled back together. It's like a puzzle with missing pieces. Or, in this case, two puzzles.

  She carefully notes that on two separate sticky notes, and places it in the box with the others. Stolatz is still collecting these documents and sending them to her to see if they're occult, and she's still expected to analyze them. At least she's allowed to use a pen again.

  "Vale!" Garza's voice calls out from the other side of the room.

  Laurel jolts up, hands at her side, eyes forward. "Ready, sir."

  "Get your ass over here."

  She walks deliberately to him, still keeping her eyes up.

  "Stop doing that every time someone calls you over. If someone is asking for you, they want you looking at whatever the fuck they're doing."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Good. FMBR's on the devil situation. Figure out anything else about it?"

  "It's... uhh..." Shit. Is this a trap? He never told her to do any more research on it. Is thinking about it a breach? Maybe the idea is to get her claiming knowledge that she wasn't already known to have, so she can be sentenced to death after the fact? Isn't death better than Magimax, though? Maybe-

  "Vale, did you or did you not figure anything out?" Garza demands, his already thin veneer of patience rapidly falling away.

  Damn it. She's fairly certain it's a classic evil spirit given flesh kind of thing, which in turn would be influenced by the beliefs of the people casting it, and judging by... no, that's way too specific, that could screw her over. But if she doesn't say anything and FMBR goes in, what if they get overwhelmed because they weren't prepared?

  "For fuck's sake! Just answer!"

  "Sir, I... I don't..."

  Willow grabs Laurel's shoulder from behind. "Sorry, Garza. It's urgent. We'll be back in half an hour."

  Garza opens his mouth, but turns his head back towards his laptop with a skeptical groan.

  Willow rapidly walks outside, Laurel's heart racing. Shit, shit. Willow figured out she was stalling. That's not going to seem cooperative.

  Laurel braces for the worst as she's directed to Willow's car. As soon as the door closes, Laurel starts. "Sorry, I- Please, just-"

  "Hey. Take a breath. You want some water?"

  Laurel pauses, and nods slowly.

  With a reassuring smile, Willow reaches into the back seat and hands Vale a plastic water bottle. "Might be warm. Sorry."

  "It's... it's fine." She unscrews the cap, and takes a long drink.

  Willow reaches her hand past Laurel and opens the glovebox, revealing the recording-detection spell. It seems Willow brought it with her. Laurel hesitantly takes it, and after a nod from Willow, she casts it.

  Just the phones, and a single extra microphone, waiting inside the lockbox. Laurel points it out.

  Willow bites her lip, and steps out of the car, imploring Laurel to follow once again as she tosses both their phones into the car. Laurel keeps the spell active, just to be safe.

  Once they're away from the car, and standing under a nearby tree, Willow takes a deep breath and a few conspiratorial glances. "Let me guess, Garza had you caught in some shitty trap between morality and Magimax?"

  Laurel stays silent. What the hell kind of move is this?

  "I have a confession... Laurel, a week or so ago, I started looking through the Counter-Magic files on you. I saw the evidence they used to convict you."

  Damn it. An appeal to her fear, maybe?

  Willow lowers herself to the base of the tree, sitting down and putting her hands on the grass between them. From below, she looks up at Laurel with intent. "I'm not saying you're innocent of any wrongdoing, but... damn it, you were trying to help people, and they used it against you. Counter-Magic screwed you, your lawyer screwed you, that judge screwed you, even Magimax screwed you. I can't pretend I know why they had it out for you, but... it isn't right, what they did."

  Laurel suspects there's something in tree they're under, but her spell doesn't react. She lays down beneath it, and looks up at the slowly blowing branches. One last attempt, to be sure. "That's not true. I screwed up, they didn't have it out for me. Counter-Magic was only doing what they were supposed to."

  "Laurel. Look at me. Please."

  With a grimace, Laurel looks up to the woman in front of her. Willow is crying. She... she's not trying to trick her... right?

  Damn it. This is too much.

  "...fine. Fine! You win, Willow. If this is all an act too, fuck it, I'd rather be in prison. At least there, I mostly know what's real. Wanna know why they had it out for me? It's because I declined to join Counter-Magic. That's the exact moment they sprung the trap I so arrogantly walked into. I've had a long time to ruminate on this. Think about it, Willow. They throw me into hell for a while, and just so happen to reach out after a couple years, pretending they're the ones saving me and not the ones who put me in there in the first place. I had no choice, really."

  Willow silently wraps Laurel into a hug. Laurel's mind is a blur, but she returns the hug anyway. Willow's smells nice. Maybe... this was worth it. Just for this moment. This tiny shred of hope to cling to.

  Willow wipes her eyes when she finally breaks the hug. "Okay... okay. I know someone at FMBR, Laurel. I overheard what Garza was asking. Did you want me to drop an anonymous tip?"

  "...really? You would do that?"

  "Of course I would. Hang on, lemme grab my phone." Willow jogs back to the car.

  Laurel watches as Willow quickly returns, phone in hand. "You can cast the spell again, if you want to make sure."

  "No... I... I'm trusting you. Please, Willow, don't make me regret this."

  With a solemn nod, Willow scrolls through her contact list to a contact called 'Mayfly'. "Just tell me what you want me to tell her."

  When the two return, Garza is waiting, immediately pointing at Laurel. "You. How was your walk?"

  "Uhh. It was a meeting, sir."

  "Really now? What about?"

  Willow takes over for her. "Would you stop badgering her? It's not relevant to the task force, so it's not your right to know."

  "Not relevant..." Garza breathily responds. "Then by all means, go back to what you were doing. Especially you, Willow."

  "For the last time, Garza, I don't a single shit about- Because I don't. Now stop calling me about Vale or Sergeant Valley unless it's actually important. That's an order." With a frustrated growl, Krastev hangs up the phone. "So sorry about that, Ximena."

  She shakes her head, the two alone in his office. "I understand. You can imagine how many calls I get about certain individuals under my purview. What's the problem with Vale, anyway?"

  "It's not that she's a problem, exactly... Want a drink?"

  "Please." Ximena watches the man go to his minibar, pouring a pair of something brown. He offers one of the two glasses to Ximena, who takes it. "So what is it, then?"

  "The truth is... Well, I'm not going to get into it. Wasn't my op, but there was a lot of behind the scenes work involving that woman. Beyond even my clearance and authority."

  "Interesting... why's she so intriguing to the higher ups?"

  Krastev's eyes don't leave his drink, as he sits back down. "Forget I said anything. You've gotten a hold of the governor, I assume?"

  "He's saying we need to wait for a more 'expedient political climate' before changing anything about prisons."

  "Spineless little shit..."

  Ximena takes a sip, and winces. It's like drinking broken glass. "Krastev, if Counter-Magic put the squeeze on him, he'd-"

  "Out of the question. I'm sorry, this is all up to you."

  "I know... you have people you report to."

  "If there's anything behind the scenes, though..." Krastev downs his drink in one smooth motion. "Let me know. I'm owed a lot of favors."