The week had been exhausting. Laurence was stretched thinner than he ever had been before, but with a renewed spirit he was able to tackle things with the drive only a desperate man had. He was living a lie and walking on melting ice; it was only a matter of time before everything came crashing down and he knew it. He could only hope that he could hold on until the end.

The Negaverse was an amazing resource. It was horrifying, really, how they could be presented with a task designed to protect people, designed to follow the law and they could dismantle every safeguard around it. A will could be doctored, reports fabricated.

All it took was a promise of a hefty portion of his would-be inheritance--a donation to their cause--and he had the rights to his parent's estate within sixteen hours after their funeral.

Sixteen hours, and it was like it was supposed to go to him, anyway. Legal loopholes be damned.

The house was another story, but it was on the market two days after the funeral. It was in a prime location in Destiny City; a beautiful old home, it should have made anyone proud to own it. Instead, it left him feeling sick just looking at it. The real estate agent had calls only five hours after it was listed, and they were scheduling viewings that day.

The house was well taken care of; his parents had a maid service to do all the dirty work.

The third couple who came for a tour placed an offer. Laurence accepted immediately. No haggling, no counter offers. It was a chunk of money and it was one less thing to worry about.

The house sold, the next step was moving everything out.

It was a big house, but Laurence hadn't realized how big until they'd filled up one moving truck and had barely made a dent in things. He'd purchased several storage units, but maybe he was just paranoid. It was a ruse; Evan, Tobias' boyfriend, had a slew of storage units under his name. Evan had the excuse of being a business owner, though Laurence knew very little about it, or about what he was doing. Something with a food truck.

But it was more convincing than putting it under someone else's name.

It had been odd to him, how ready Tobias' friends were to help him. How prepared they were. They hadn't asked too many questions, they'd just accepted that he needed help. There were a group of them--Cambria, Tobias, Evan, Zac, Malcolm and Gale.

They took everything they could. Portraits off the wall, fancy dishes, rugs. He'd left the things that were too large, too heavy. The furniture, for the most part, stayed. He didn't care for most of it, but he knew what his mother paid for an interior decorator and he knew the price tag attached to half of this s**t.

Everyone had free reign of the house, for the most part.

He'd cleaned out his parents room by himself, in the middle of the night after everyone had gone home for the day.

He didn't want Tobias there. Didn't want to have to share any awkward finds.

It wasn't as traumatic as he thought, though. He kept a few things from their closet--a hat his father liked to wear, scarves from his mother. Her jewelry boxes, his watches.

No person needed this much stuff. It took him nearly the entire night to go through everything, to pack the truck. Two lives shoved into cardboard boxes and bags. His parents would have been mortified.

Trophies, awards, paperwork. Sentimental things that he ached to go through. He saw a stack of things from Tobias' childhood and he begged whatever God there might be that they had kept his stupid drawings and good grades, but he didn't get to go through everything.

He kept telling himself that he'd have the opportunity when he finished this. That he'd know what he was looking for.

That he wasn't searching for the life he lost.

It had been hard, but he had pushed through.

The house was cleared out as best as they could make it a few days after the sale. He started running out of time too quickly. When they'd taken everything they could carry, everything of sentimental value, anything of value. What was too big or not worth the effort, he gave away to anyone who would take them off his hand.

He wondered if the maids understood what they were leaving with but he had too many other things to think about to dedicate much attention to the matter.

He was running out of time.

Locking the door was an odd sensation. He was leaving for the last time. Not just saying goodbye to his childhood home, but to the life he used to have. His own apartment had been easier to clean out; he hadn't needed so much help there. But then, it wasn't supposed to look like he was leaving, not really.

He took a few sentimental things--gifts from Gale, things from his brother. He took his computer, paranoid someone would go through it and find his emails to his brother, or some sign of planning anything.

But then, he wasn't afraid of the police. Just the Negaverse.

There were no goodbyes, though.

If he was going to part with anyone, it would have had to be Karone, but she couldn't know. His heart ached that he would be such a disappointment, but if he'd told her he would have compromised everything. He couldn't tell Gale about her sister; they were safer not knowing. Things were working out this way.

Which meant, it was time to go.

The bank was the last hurdle; drawing out any sum of money wasn't an easy process. If it hadn't been for the Negaverse, this never would have worked. If he hadn't been so empty inside, he might have been afraid of how easily it was to seize funds and assets, to clear out the amount of money that they did for him. The withdrawal he made was sure to cause alarm, but that's why it was the last thing to do on his list. He left the bank with a suitcase full of money and the promise that he was going to head to the Negaverse's safe haven to deposit funds.

And they'd trusted him.

He'd walked out of the bank with more money in his hand than any human being ever should have held. Life insurance. Savings. The house sale. Everything his parents had worked for, monetarily summarized in a briefcase in his hand.

He went into his car and drove to the park--earlier than need be. Amesite did have one task to tend to in Negaspace. It was swift, a hidden message, a parting gift, to his General.

He couldn't face her to say goodbye, but he couldn't leave knowing he'd given her nothing but pain on this parting.

Afterwards, he returned to Destiny City and teleported to the rendezvous point with Lysithea. It was a quick meeting; he gave her the money to store on her Homeworld for the time being. It was safe there, she'd assured. Gale and Tobias had vouched on it, and he agreed that it was smarter to make sure there wasn't some cleverly hidden tracking device that could be linked back to them.

He was paranoid, he knew it. But that much money was intimidating to hold and he was glad it was out of sight and out of mind.

He'd had lunch with Tobias. It was as relaxing as it could be, but that wasn't saying much. Laurence had too much on his mind, too much to lose. Their goodbye was swift, but Tobias had such faith in him.

Meeting up with Gale for the last time was the hardest part; they hadn't said much, but he hadn't needed to. She'd hugged him, and told him she loved him. He'd repeated the words, and meant them, but he was so nervous that everything felt like a blur.

And then, he left.

He was numb for the most part. The plan was to drive out of Destiny City and stage his death. He didn't want to risk Karone coming after him. If Cavansite suspected he was alive, she'd hunt him down. He needed this to be convincing. He needed to be free. Burning a thirty two thousand dollar car was a small price to pay for the comfort of knowing he could live again.

Twenty minutes outside the main part of Destiny City, the road was a twisting mess. There had been eleven fatal accidents in the past year there and he reasoned it wouldn't be so unheard of for him to make it number twelve. He'd pulled over the car and removed the alcohol from the back seat. He had several empty bottles he discarded in the front seat, but opened a fresh one to seal the deal as best he could.

It was still cold; he took a long swig wishing that small amount was enough to calm his nerves.

He needed to look drunk, not be drunk. He set the bottle down in the cup holder and, after a long moment of just appreciating the sounds, the smells of nature--of just appreciating being away from the bright lights and noise of the city--he powered up.

There was no one here, but then, he'd expected as much.

Laurence climbed back into the car as Captain Amesite and turned the car back on.

He wasn't a risky driver--he wasn't a risky anything. The fear of this failing made his blood run cold, made him seize up.

But he was as good as dead one way or the other. If he messed up this way, at least he went out trying.

The speed limit was a safe forty five. Within seconds he was at ninety, and climbing.

The curve in the road approached faster than he thought, but he replayed the plan in his head. He slammed on his brakes well before the car flew over the edge, but it wasn't enough to stop it. He could smell the burning rubber; he knew it left tracks. Right where all the others had been.

For a few seconds, he was in the air. It wasn't much; the ditch below was steep. Someone could have survived. He would.

He teleported out, back to the road. It might have been a trick of the mind, but he could have sworn he felt the heat from the road through his boots.

He watched with a cold expression as his car slammed into a tree below; it didn't stop there. It flipped, twice, and wound up on its side pinched between two trees. There was no fire, no smoke, just a battered car and another lie.

A few seconds passed as he watched the scene below; it was surreal to him. He was the only person here on this lonely stretch of road. A fire would have been a beacon to investigate, but he supposed it was easy enough to see the car below. But, no one would have made it out of that crash without a few scrapes.

Gale would be here soon; he wanted to be waiting for her, ready to go, as soon as she arrived. He didn't want her to see the car.

He could have teleported again, down to the car, but he didn't want to waste energy. His adrenaline was still spiked so he hastened down the steep slope as he tried to control the tremors.

He summoned his weapon, a sleek bladed mace. He'd never really used it, but he figured it ought to see blood once in its life. The trip to the car smelled like gas but there were still no flames. It was dark out here; it would have been easy to get lost. There was no point in prying open the driver's door; the window had been busted out. The windshield was crumbled but stuck in its frame. The airbags had gone off. The smell of alcohol permeated the car and he wrinkled his nose.

Blade to arm, he made a thin incision. It hurt, but he was too tired, too malnourished, to suffer.

He willed the blade away and powered down, watching as the red pooled in a thin line on his arm. It took a long moment for him to collect enough blood into his hand to make use of it. He smeared some on the door, around the window. He shoved the airbag away as best he could in this awkward position.

He'd always liked painting. There was a sort of cathartic peace that washed over him as he painted this, his death. At one point, he climbed in the car as best he could, but it was uncomfortable and awkward. Blood on the air bag, the seat. The car sputtered at one point, alarming him so much he yanked out the keys. Blood for them, then, lost and discarded amongst the bottles.

He could have powered up and teleport out, but he didn't. Instead, he crawled--clawing his way free of the wreckage. He'd picked up shards of broken glass to help this scene. Both arms were maimed now, and blood dripped freely from his arms. He didn't try to staunch it, he wanted a trail. He stumbled from the vehicle, disoriented from the effort even without having been in a crash.

The sound of running water wasn't far off. Twenty seven steps away, he stepped into the river.

Where Laurence Liebel would disappear forever.

Drowned in a river that was overflowing from too many rains, washed away from Destiny City. Into a lake, the sea, he didn't know. He didn't care.

This was where that story ended.

Headlights in the distance; the car stopped. He figured it must have been Gale. His arms were a mess, but they would heal. He powered up and could sense her immediately; she had healing magic. They'd planned this. If she couldn't fix it all, they were going to meet up with Lysithea, anyway.

He was lightheaded--lightheaded enough that he shouldn't have teleported back up, but he did anyway.

He wanted this to be over.

Gale--Kari--was waiting for him in the car. She had come prepared; she used her magic enough to heal the injuries, and wrapped them afterwards just to be on the safe side. She'd brought him snacks, and drinks.

She'd brought him home.