Laurel looks at the walls of her new home in Magimax. The faint scratches in the iron are different than her last cell. It's nice, having that kind of novelty, even if its fleeting.

  She's been here for two months. Almost twice as long as her time outside, she reminds herself for the nth time.

  But... it's not as bad as it used to be. She stamps the papers Stolatz has her analyze, she eats the tasteless brick of nutrients, she puts her hands against the wall. It's... not so bleak, though.

  Willow told her to not give up. She's determined to follow through on that. Odds are, Counter-Magic will eventually want her help again. Even if it takes all forty-eight years, though, Laurel will see Willow again.

  On the bright side, the geas curse had lifted about a month ago, signifying her pact with the Director was functionally dead. Not that it really makes a difference, one way or the other.

  Being alone with her thoughts has given Laurel a lot of time to think. A lot of time to be honest with herself, and a lot of time to pick through the thorny situation.

  Laurel promised herself that if she ever sees Willow again, she'll be honest about her feelings. With that possibility, even though it may never come... things are a lot less dark inside this iron box.

  Another sleepless night for Willow. She's been coordinating with Krastev and Sawyer on the Magimax conditions lawsuit, and they're nearly ready to formally file it. She likely can't get Laurel out, but she can make her conditions livable, at least.

  She hopes Laurel took her request to heart. She has something she desperately needs to tell her.

  Prisons, in a certain someone's humble opinion, get a bad reputation. At her disposal, she has a toilet, a bed, a chair, a table, maybe even a roommate so you don't get bored.

  This cell in particular, though, is a mixed bag. She likes the smell in here, but heavy iron walls are a little gauche. She has to admit, the steel chair is surprisingly comfortable, as is the foam bed.

  She's all alone, regrettably, and got bored of talking with herself in the first couple weeks. Her only human interaction, if one can describe it as such, comes from a speaker that occasionally has words coming out of it. Her brain hungrily tears apart every syllable, the new specks of novel stimuli driving her mind forward. The cheery voice had a very slight change in intonation on the word 'hands', which was very exciting for almost eight entire seconds.

  She's had a long few years, and when she was kidnapped and forced into this box... she didn't feel a need to resist. It's comfortable here, and she needed some time to think without the stresses of life. She supposes that makes her indolent at best... but it's simply been too long without a moment to herself. Too many humans ask too many favors.

  What pulls her from her cycle of eating, sleeping, and thinking is the small iron latch on the door sliding open. She glances up at the minuscule slit that's barely wide enough for eyes to glare through, and raises her own towards it.

  "Been a long time, Selcan. Good to see you where you belong."

  Ahh, a pleasantly familiar voice. Just what she needed to get the gears in her mind turning once again. "Hello yourself, Sipho," she says, genuinely pleased by his presence.

  "I'll assume that name was once mine. I've cast it aside."

  She giggles to herself, standing up from the comfortable chair and walking to the door. "Yeah? Okay, so what do I call you now?"

  "Nothing. I only wanted to see this for myself, and to say two simple words. Fuck. You. It's a genuine pleasure to see the one who cursed me with the secret of life behind an iron door."

  "You wanted it, right? All you have to do to undo the curse is say the incantation backwards, you know."

  He does a double take, and leers through the slit. "It's been countless years. How the hell would I have remembered it?"

  "I'd tell you, truly, but I'm a little busy at the moment. You understand." Sipho's expression is delicious.

  "You've been in here for two months. Even to you, that's not nothing."

  With a shrug, she knocks on the wall. "Funny, isn't it? How slow magic has progressed since your time. Before, it was limited by the difficulty in teaching it. Now, by the practicality of its use. Why, you'd have to live for centuries to outstrip modern technology..."

  "What are you saying?"

  "I'm saying that I'm not trapped here. In fact, I can leave whenever I want."

  He widely smirks at Selcan, probably thinking she has a blu? to call. "Is that right?"

  "Well, yes. I suppose I've been here for time enough. Back to work, right?"

  "Cute."

  With a sigh, she stands up, and presses her hand to the door. "I was going to stay a few weeks more, but I have my pride. Let's see now... perhaps this one."

  With a patient tempo, she recites a short incantation. As she finishes, the heavy ironib begins to rust to nothing before her, and within half a minute, only a heap of red powder remains. She smiles at her old acquaintance. Sipho hasn't changed a bit, other than wearing a suit instead of a salt-stained tunic. He still has those tattoos, even.

  Sipho's eyes widen, seeing that Selcan is only a foot away. He desperately clicks the button that's supposed to incapacitate her. "You... there were wards..."

  "For your own sake, Sipho, you really shouldn't doubt me... Actually, I suppose your current body would make a suitable host vessel, no?"

  "You- you bastard, I-"

  She breathes a quiet chant, and he collapses. He'll be fine in a while, she supposes, as she walks towards the exit, hypnotizing every guard that sees her without so much as looking back at them. She wonders what's happened while she's been away...

  Laurel smiles to herself as the speaker tells her to place her hands against the wall. Must be meal time. When the speaker chimes, she turns around.

  The smile vanishes instantly when she sees there's not only no food, but instead, there's a certain MBR Director, disheveled and baggy-eyed.

  "...do you even work in California? I swear, you're in Utah more often than-"

  "Enough," the Director hisses, loudly enough to make Laurel flinch. "I have need of you."

  Laurel crosses her arms, and straightens her posture. If he's here already, he's desperate. She won't let herself get fucked over like last time. "Is that so? Shame."

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  "Fine, then I'll get someone else."

  "Bye." Laurel flops back onto the bed, smiling once again.

  California's MBR Director doesn't move, hatefully leering into Laurel. "...I'm willing to offer you-"

  "Contract."

  "What?" he spits.

  "I need a written contract and a few days to review it. Then I'll help, if the terms are satisfactory."

  "You aren't in a position to demand anything! Have you completely forgotten what you're throwing away?!"

  "Stop yelling, it echoes in here. And no, I haven't forgotten. Which is why I'm refusing to let you fuck me over again. I couldn't take it happening a third time."

  The Director seethes in place. "...fine. I'll get you a contract."

  "See you then."

  Another command from Laurel's speaker surprises her, as she quickly stuffs the remains of her meal down her throat while sticking her hands on the wall once again. When she turns around, instead of the Director as anticipated, it's... some guy she's never seen before, in a light grey suit.

  "Hey, that was fast," she notes. It's better to play along with the delusions, rather than fight them.

  "Huh? Wait, were you expecting me?"

  "Yeah. You're with the Director, right?"

  "What? No, not at all. I'm a lawyer, named Sawyer, here on behalf of Lt. Colonel Krastev and Sergeant Valley. They'd like you to testify-"

  "Willow?! Yes, I'll testify to whatever! Will I get to see Willow when I do?!"

  Sawyer tightens his lips. "No, sorry, it's only a written testimonial..."

  "Oh..." Laurel sinks into the bed slightly, dejected, until an idea starts to percolate. This is perfect timing. "Wait, if you're a lawyer, can you help me with something? There's this contract I'm being given for a probationary release-"

  "They're doing that again? Jesus, this place is a shitshow... Laurel, I've heard what happened to you from Willow. It's a travesty of justice. How about I take it from here?" he says, rubbing his hands together as though he's trying to warm them up.

  "...can you talk through it with Willow? I... I trust her to be involved. She'll do what's best for me, I know it."

  "Happily. I'll take it to her now. Good luck."

  Willow steps inside the meeting room, seeing the two clear sides that have been established. On the left of the long walnut table are Stolatz, the Director, and a lawyer of their own named Linde. On the right sits Sawyer, and an ominous briefcase.

  Willow takes her seat. Sawyer clicks open the briefcase, and hands her the contract. Once in her hand, Willow dramatically slams it down on the table. "Here's what we're asking."

  California's Director, his lawyer, and Stolatz all look over the summary together. Stolatz laughs. The Director pushes it away in disgust. The lawyer grimaces.

  The Director is the first to speak. "You're fucking insane if you think for even one second that I'd ever agree to this. I don't even have the authority to!"

  "It's not for you, Director," Willow says.

  Stolatz reveals a toothy grin as he looks over the legal jargon. "How about we play it like this. I'll-"

  "Shut the fuck up," the Director demands.

  In response, Stolatz flips him off. "Magimax is mine. This is my dominion. Now, in exchange for me not being held personally liable... yes, I can get this done."

  "You corrupt sack of-"

  "Don't talk to me about corruption, Director. You're just as bad as me, using so many resources to hunt down a personal grudge. Valley, Sawyer, what do you think?"

  Willow's legs squirm beneath the table. Stolatz being held responsible was never the main goal, but that rat does absolutely deserve it. If it means he takes the contract as-is, although... that's a harder decision. She knows what Laurel would say.

  Thing is, she's not Laurel. "Let's talk specifics."

  Laurel lies down of the floor of her cell, pretending to throw a ball in the air and catch it. Somehow, she still managed to drop the imaginary ball twice now, and had to pick it back up.

  It's been about a week since she hallucinated the Director and a lawyer coming into her cell. She's hallucinated before; the brain makes its own stimuli when none is available, but she's never experienced things so vividly. At least they were good hallucinations. Pissing off the Director and talking to a lawyer about improving conditions were really nice, compared to the horrifying ones from her last prison stint.

  She hopes the next hallucination is her magic shop. She has it so vividly laid out in her head, everything from the glass display cases to the wooden door that refuses to stay closed.

  A buzz from the speaker, and she puts her hands on the wall, letting the imaginary ball roll away towards the door. She hopes it doesn't roll outside her cell when the door opens.

  She's losing it, huh?

  The chime sounds, and she turns to face Stolatz, looking absurdly smug at the moment. He looks down at a clipboard, and clears his throat. "Laurel Vale, please review and sign the following document to accept the terms of your parole."

  "...what? Oh, yes, of course," Laurel quickly adds, taking the clipboard and pen, reading over the document. This hallucination is really vivid. She skims through the packet, nodding along at the terms. Required to give weekly calls to a parole officer, required to assist Counter-Magic and/or MBR on an as-needed basis, not allowed to practice magic without explicit and narrow approval from parole officer... All very fair. She signs her name, and Stolatz snatches the clipboard and slinks away. Laurel pulls her hand back, Stolatz having given her a small paper cut. She looks at it for a long, long time, as a small drop of blood starts to ooze out.

  "That's... odd." Laurel does a few exercises to reorient herself to reality. Visualize what's here, imagine something different, all the typical ones.

  No matter what she does, though, the paper cut stays.

  Oh shit. She looks at the closed cell door in terror, unsure of what the hell she just signed.

  It's a full day later, and Laurel hasn't touched her food brick. She's too anxious to eat, worried that she just signed something that would ruin someone else's life in addition to her own. She thought it was a hallucination... that excuse isn't going to hold up in court, is it?

  Without the speaker telling her to touch the wall, the thick iron door swings open. A guard gestures for her to follow with a short nod.

  Laurel stays put. They tried this one once before. "I'm not allowed to leave this cell without explicit permission from the warden."

  "For God's sake..." The guard takes his radio from his belt, and says "Hey, Warden, can the occultist go?"

  There's a brief pause, and Stolatz's voice crackles over. "I just told you that five minutes ago, are you dumb?"

  Laurel rapidly nods, and looks around her cell for anything she wants to keep. She decides to leave the imaginary ball behind for the next occupant, and exits with empty hands.

  The guard sighs as the elevator ascends. "You're one lucky bitch."

  She doesn't respond, literally vibrating with nerves. This isn't a hallucination. This is real.

  The elevator door opens. Willow is waiting in the middle of the lobby.

  Without a second's hesitation, the two run towards each other, pulling each other into a tight hug. Willow lifts up her friend and spins her around, babbling about how happy she is. Laurel laughs along. The two slow down, but the hug remains, tight and close and warm.

  It's full minutes until the two finally separate, looking at each other with teary eyes.

  "I missed you," Laurel says, barely able to speak.

  "I missed you too," Willow replies, taking her hands and eagerly pulling her out of the building. She notices Laurel's parole officer watching them pass by. He rolls his eyes, and waves the pair ahead. Willow mouths a 'thank you' to him for not spoiling the moment.

  Once outside, the two stand next to the car, looking together at the high Utah sun above.

  The two speak at the same time, both shyly offering to let the other go first.

  Laurel takes the opportunity to speak, graciously taking Willow's second offer. "How, though..?"

  "It was part of our negotiations for when Krastev files the lawsuit."

  "What lawsuit?"

  "Oh, right... Sorry. I felt like you were with me the whole time, I guess I forgot you weren't... Krastev is suing Magimax for poor conditions."

  Laurel cocks her head. "What does that have to do with me?"

  "...well, Stolatz only signed off on it in exchange for us not holding him personally liable."

  "You what?! Willow, I-"

  "Krastev never said anything about criminal liability, though. Just personal." Willow takes Laurels hands, smiling broadly.

  Laurel squeezes her hands. "I, uhh... thought the contract was a hallucination. How long am I out for..?"

  "Perpetuity, given you follow a million rules. Have to stay in Utah and can only leave for three days at a time with prior approval, you have a permanent parole officer, you can't do magic without prior approval... but you don't have to go back. It's the best I could do."

  The occultist only blinks in response.

  "Also, Counter-Magic can pull you whenever they need you, but it isn't a full-time thing. I think the limit is two hundred hours a year, but it might be more."

  Laurel blinks again, more slowly.

  "Oh, and the implant in your neck has been deactivated. It still has a GPS, but no more migraines."

  Laurel's legs give out under her as she faints, but Willow manages to hold on to her hands, gently helping her down instead of letting her drop. She kneels down on the gravel, and puts Laurel's head on her lap.

  Willow's tears are what wakes Laurel back up. She slowly looks around, and up at Willow. The corners of her mouth turn sharply down. "...oh, I died."

  Willow laughs, and pets Laurel's head with long, soft strokes. "You're very much alive."

  "That's... that's really good." Her tense expression fades in full, as she lets the sweet scent of Willow's deodorant mingle with the fresh air. "I spent all this time trying not to die, but only because I knew you were waiting for me."

  "Laurel..."

  "I mean it." Laurel tries to work up the courage to say what she needs to, but can't quite do it. She's too delirious right now. "I think... I think I want to be home with you again."

  "Yeah. Okay."