When she receives a call from the prison, at first, she wouldn't want to go. Part of her is too wounded – not her pride, her heart – and she would nothing more than put Cameron and Jonathan Black in her past.

She trusted Cameron, she was willingly to help him out – no matter what. She understood him, and… she was as hurt and mad as he was, after everything that had happened with MW.

She though he knew – not what she felt (what she still feels), but, had it been in her hands, she would have changed the whole thing, in an heartbeat, that she had no faults.

But, at the end of the day, Cameron had showed her his true colors, that everyone had been right about him, that he and his people cared about her only as long as she was an asset in their crusade to free Jonathan, and she had allowed him to perform his greatest trick: he had stolen her, her dignity. Her heart.

(She'd allow him to do that again – because, as much as it hurt, part of her still can't believe it- can't believe him.)

But… but, she is better than him, so takes the call, even if she would split venom to the man at the other end of the line (for the simple fact that he is the carbon copy of man who broke her heart.

"What do you want, Jonathan?" She is short – she can't help it. She knows she should be better, but, well, she isn't perfect. Far from it, actually.

Kay? I kind of have a little problem here, and I'm not really sure I can tell you over the phone…

She closes her eyes, and takes a few deep breaths, feeling guilty. Jonathan didn't do anything wrong – besides cheating on his girlfriend, of course, which was the igniting incident of their whole ordeal – and, if nothing else, he is the one who's been wronged by the system (her boss' boss), so she kind of owe him at least that.

Rubbing her forehead (and fighting the impending headache of all headaches), she sighs. "Fine. I'll drop by when I have a moment, all right? And Jonathan? We'll make it right – I promise you."

When she arrives – two days later, she owes him, but, still, she kind of hates Cameron right now – Jonathan is already sitting at the small table in visitation, his head low and tapping his feet nervously on the floor. Her heart clenches a little bit, for, in just a matter of days, the Jonathan she has gotten to know seems already gone.

"Jonathan?" She simply says as she approaches his table, not sure what she should say. And then, then he lifts his head, and he swallows, and the breath dies in her throat when their eyes meet because… because of course that's not the Jonathan she has gotten to know.

It's because he isn't Jonathan at all.

"Cameron?!" She creams – at low voice, between clenched teeth, hissing, sitting before him, not sure if it's more a question or an affirmation, and he simply nods.

He doesn't say anything for the longest time – he sometimes shakes his head, as he couldn't believe the mess he's gotten himself into, but what really hurts Kay is the look in his eyes- sad, lost, scared, defeated and just plain small.

When the guards has his head turned away, Kay quickly puts her hand on top of Cameron's, her eyes glassy, and her heart clenches when he can't even meet her eyes – like he has lost some part of himself.

(Jonathan - it's him Cameron has lost, his own brother. His bloody twin.)

She hates herself a little, because, as painful as it is seeing Cameron like this, knowing why he is sporting his brother's signature look, she is relieved (so much so that she'd like to actually cry), because those venomous words, those icy looks she got, they weren't Cameron's. He didn't broke her heart (he never would, she hops, she knows), someone else did, just because he could, just because he wanted to hurt her (and his brother too).

"I'll get you out of here." She promises.

(Again- she's already promised Jonathan before, but this time, she's gonna keep her word, no matter what.)

"Well, I guess we can all be glad that your brother didn't really thought this trough, Mister Black." Deakins simply says as she looks over her "consultant".

Cameron's been sitting in an FBI conference room for what feels like an eternity, and only now he's been allowed to take off the handcuffs. He lazily massages his pained wrists. His crew's there with him, all standing, all looking at him with a painful and guilty expression, as if, that last day, they could have known that the one packing wasn't Cameron, but Jonathan.

"Yeah, well, God blessed CSI and the fact that twins don't share fingertips!" Cameron tries to joke. He rubs his eyes – he is tired, he's been in jail for weeks before being cleared, reinstated as the one true and only Cameron Black – and the experience has taken its toll on him.

Cameron looks at Deakins, eyes huge and pleading, and Kay's heart clenches. "Listen, I know what he did is wrong- but as far as we know, Jonathan hasn't done anything… illegal yet."

"Sure. Besides escaping jail by switching places with his twin after having incapacitated and knocked him out." Alvarez, crossed arms, rolls his eyes. He could have forgiven Jonathan many things, but this… this, he can't forgive. This, he can't understand.

"Yeah, thanks for having reminded me of my close encounter with the prison floor. But, besides that, he hasn't done anything wrong. As far as we know, he could even be working to track down MW and actually stop her."

"You really believe that? That the brother you were ready to give up on anything for almost crushed your skull for… what? Bring MW to justice?!"

He doesn't – he thinks he wants the money for himself, and that something broke in Jonathan when he went in jail, something that was already a tiny little bit cracked to begin with. But, they are still brothers – and the cracks, they were there just because of him, so he can't just turn his back on Jonathan. Not when he was the one to put him on the road he is walking.

"No, but… I know it's my fault. I allowed our father to hide Johnny. I kept using him even after Dad was gone, and I forced him to perform that last trick. So, I… I have to give him the benefit of the doubt, all right? Just until we know for sure."

Dina shakes her head, and, barely containing the tears, she leaves the room, followed by Alvarez.

You didn't force your brother to cheat on me, she thinks, but she doesn't say out loud, and it's the same thought they all share – the same truth they all know.

(Jonathan has never been a saint to begin with, no matter what Cameron says, no matter how much he tries to defend his brother.)

Crimson blood mars Kay's shirt she lies at Cameron's feet. She swallows, trying to catch a breath, as if she was a fish out of water trying to breath.

But Cameron doesn't look at her – he isn't strong enough – and his eyes are glued on the woman whose name is still a mystery to him, and the man holding the gun. It's a man he had tried to make up for, for far too long – a man Cameron now knows as being lost beyond redemption (maybe, just maybe, always has been).

"Well, you stole my life, Cam… it seems fitting that I steal your future."

Jonathan chuckles darkly, and finally, finally, Cameron understands what his brother had felt for so many years – the hate, the rage, never leaving, just increasing, like small flames erupting into an inferno.

For the first time in his life, Cameron wishes to have always been alone, and that his brother would have never seen the light of day.

The old subway, the Archives, everything turns up in flames in the blink of an eye, and as Cameron looks at the place he called home falling right before his eyes, he can't help but feeling… refreshed. Free. As a veil – a curse – had been finally lifted from his shoulder (his family), and in the flames, he sees, reflected, his dream – the image of the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

Now alone, like he had whished on his darkest day, he doesn't need to be Cameron Black, greatest magician alive, any longer. He can finally be just Cameron, and do with his life as he pleases.

"Deakins says they were able to collect enough DNA from the female body to confirm it was MW." Kay's in her hospital bed, signing papers, checking case files and allowing herself a bite of awful hospital food every now and then.

Sitting at her side, Cameron actually smiles - he thought her gone, but she's fought her way through this ordeal, coming back (to him) stronger than before, her (beautiful) smile never faltering, even if marred by her sadness for his loss.

(She'd lost a lot of blood, but the doctors had been surprised, that no major organ had been hit, like whoever shot, wanted to put on a show.)

"She said…" She clears her voice, as she doesn't know how to actually say it, if she should. "She says that… Jonathan…"

"Oh, what? That there are just ashes and they didn't find anything that could be used for a DNA match?" Cameron chuckles, shaking his head. "Please. We both know there's no DNA because Jonathan didn't want us to find any. He is an escape artist, and he performed a trick a century in the making. Trust me- Jonathan's still out there, enjoying the fortune of some greedy billionaire. Right now he is probably in, I don't know, either Canada or Mexico getting a plastic so that he'll never have to see my face when he looks in the mirror."

"You think she may still be alive, too? MW.. Do you think…" Do you think he saved her, too?

But Cameron shakes his head, biting his lips. He closes his eyes, inhaling slowly, deeply. "Do I think he killed her? No – but, I think he left her die. He… I think he hated her as much as he hated me. She was Pandora – she opened up the box, and showed him the truth behind the façade, the evil of our father… and my faults."

They stay in silence – a comfortable one – and their attention is stolen only by a pair of birds, small, cute and bright blue – playing on the windowsill.

"You know, it's funny," Kay smiles, and Cameron hasn't seen her smile in so long, has been so scared that he would have to live without it that his heart actually swells at least two sizes bigger, filled with happiness and love and so much else he can barely contains it. "Some versions, they don't think it was hope left in the box- but actually deceptive expectation."

And just for that, his heart actually grows even bigger.

One of Alvarez's kids is having a birthday party at home, with all of their friends, and as it's Mike's guestroom Cameron is currently residing in, playing the resident magician is the least he can do. Apparently, kids doesn't even care that he isn't wearing a clown costume or that he doesn't look like Harry Potter. A magician with worn-out sneakers and a hoodie is good enough for them, if his tricks are good.

(His, they are the best.)

He takes a break when it's time for the cake – because it's in the shape of some trendy cartoon character, so they are momentarily forgetting him – but Cameron's not mad, not at all. He looks at the joyful expression of those kids, and thinks that he would do whatever it takes to see again and again and again those smiles, and not just on Alvarez's kids - but on any kid.

Besides, he's been talking so much, chit-chatting the young guests, that he really needs some water. Like, right now.

"So, man, any idea what you are going to do with your life now?" Mike asks, as he offers his guest a glass of water.

Cameron immediately thinks of something witty, or something funny or smart to say, but as he sees the children laughing, only the truth leaves his mouth.

"This," he admits, smiling, a little lost in his own world, as if he was seeing the truth, reality, for the very first time in his own life. "I want to make children smile."

On her sister's death anniversary, she receives an envelope, handwritten, old paper, the calligraphy elegant as the manuscript from a long time before, the words carefully written in blue ink – with a fountain pen, it seems.

Drinking her coffee, she carefully opens it, wondering who could have written the massive- as far as she knows, none of the people she is acquainted with would do something like that (with, maybe, just maybe, Cameron and his crew, but why would they write her a letter when she sees them almost every other day and they have her number?).

She is even wondering if, maybe, just maybe, it's from some psycho she arrested in the past, when two slips of papers escape the envelope; one is small, printed, and looks like a receipt, the other is handwritten, and the calligraphy seems to match the sender's.

The receipt is for an anonymous donation – 20.000 $ - to an association that helps young women, the other is a simple note, few words that aren't signed, and yet, she'd bet her life she knows who write them.

I'm sorry – I don't ask for your forgiveness, but believe me when I tell you that putting your life in danger has never been my intention. Even if I know you were more than just an FBI agent for Cam.

(Cameron's always been right – Jonathan had made it out of the fire, and he's enjoying his family's money.)

At the end, Cameron decides to join an association, "sponsored" by an old friend of his – another former magician (a mentalist, actually) who decided that he likes making children (and his wife, and his young son) smile and laugh more than the spotlight any (unless it's in small cabaret). Cameron dresses like himself – his real self, sneakers and hoodies and shirts – and sports a bright red spongy nose (like a clown) and does tricks for kids and teenagers – schools, youth centers, foster homes, community centers – mostly for free, even if, every now and then, he still accepts some paying gig, either in off-places or at some party or event.

(He still needs to pay the bills, after all – besides, he can't live for the rest of his life surfing couches.)

One Friday afternoon, Kay come to see him doing one of his shows – preteen and teens, children of military personnel stationed abroad - and, honestly, she's never seen Cameron looking this happy and carefree as right now (as a veil – a curse – had been finally lifted from his shoulders).

"So, what are you thinking?" She asks him, later, as they are drinking a glass of orange juice and looking at children playing with Gunter as he was the Big Friendly Giant, much to his chagrin, and Cameron isn't exactly lost in his own thoughts – his smile tells her he is thinking about something, and that he likes it, very much so.

"Well, I'm thinking many things, actually." She glares at him, but in a friendly way, smiling a little, a smile that reaches her eyes and that can get any answer out of him, any time. "I was thinking – don't laugh, and don't tell anyone, especially Gunter – that, when I'll have children, they'll take their mum's last name. The Black name has ruined enough children as it is- I'll not allow them to live in the shadow of a manipulative liar and criminal like it happened to Johnny and me."

Kay chuckles, biting her lips as she sees Cameron messing the air of a young kid running on him. "When you'll have children? You seem awfully sure of yourself. Let me guess, you even already have a candidate, and it's one of those leggy super-models you used to date!"

Cameron taps his right index finger against his lisp, and looks at kay like he had a secret – something he alone knows. "Yes to the first, no to the second."

"Oh, really?" She playfully elbows him on the side, and he nods.

"Yeah, and, honestly, I think I could change my name too. I don't know if you've ever heard, but following rules? Not my thing. So, I said, why not taking my wife's last name, uh?"

(He thinks that Cameron Daniels really has a pretty nice ring to it.)

Key's mentor dies on the job, shot by a kid two months before retiring, and she mends her heart by laying in her bed in the dark, on top of the covers, fully dressed- and if Cameron wasn't there, she'd probably forgot to eat and drink.

The first day, he goes to sleep on the couch, but in the middle of the night he moves to the armchair next to her bed (so that he can keep an eye on her); when, on his third night in her apartment, she wakes up to find Cameron sleeping on a chair, she wakes him up, and drags him to bed, falling asleep in each other's embrace as Camron tenderly kisses the crown of her hair.

(Before Morpheus takes him away, he is pretty sure he hears her speaking to him, I'm so sorry that I thought it was you.)

It's spring –may, summertime's quickly approaching, and they are having a picnic in Central Park like they were cliché characters in a cheesy romance novel. Key's sitting, crossed-legs, looking at children playing, parents chasing after them, dreaming of a future that could be closer than anyone may think, and Cameron's half-asleep, his head in her lap.

Gently, she lazily scratches his scalp, running her fingers through his curly hair, the sun illuminating the small diamond on her left ring finger, where, in a matter of days, it will be joined by a simple band in yellow gold.

Cameron is actually purring, content, like he's finally at peace with himself and the word for the first time in his life.

"Ehy Kay, I never asked, but, how did you know that it was me, that day in prison?"

"Your eyes," she bends over him, and leaves a butterfly kiss on the tip his nose. "I'd recognize them everywhere."