"Court Case #358765"

Three men sat behind a table, a manila folder lay open on it as they passed the sheets of paper that made up his file between themselves. They seemed to be taking their sweet ass time, reading thoroughly through each of the pages as if he were not sitting there, waiting for his life to change based on their decision.

Part of him wanted to huff in impatience, but he knew he shouldn't. He had to be on his best behavior, as he'd been all this time. If this didn't come through, it would be a long while before he got another chance at this. He'd endured so much without losing his temper, he just needed to hold on a little bit more. Just a little more and he'd be out of this godawful place and back to where he needed to be.

"Mr. Jones, this meeting is to determine whether or not you're likely to break the law again if you're released on parole. While we have your records of good behavior here and note this is your first convicted offense, your records indicate that there is reason to believe you've taken part in other fraud schemes. What do you have to say for yourself?"

His lips curved in a smug smirk. "I would say that allegedly I've taken part in other schemes. There has been no proof or conviction, darli- ma'am". He caught himself at the very last moment and forced himself to lose the smirk and put on a sheepish smile. He needed these people on his side. He needed them to believe him.

He cleared his throat, lowering his head a little before he faced the panel again, a self-deprecating smile coming to his face. "I know you're wondering why I did the things I got convicted for. I trusted the wrong people. I thought I was walking into an honest deal and I found myself in the middle of a crime I hadn't meant and didn't want to commit. Everything spiraled downhill from there - my wife left me, I had ended up in a dark place. The first few weeks in prison were not easy. But I'm doing better now and I want to redeem myself. I want to do better, get my life back on track, see my brother."

He paused for a moment, letting the words sink in, trying very hard to build a momentum. "I - I want-" his voice faltered and he cleared his throat, tilting his head to the side in a lopsided smile. "I want to do the right thing." He delivered the words with solemnity, as if he were taking a vow for a life commitment… he could only hope they'd buy it.

They did.

A few hours later, he stood in front of a mirror, tugging his cuffs and adjusting his shoulders. He felt as if the suit was bringing him back to the man he once was. The small gold band sitting in his jacket pocket felt inordinately heavy though, and he took a beat to look at his reflection in the mirror. His chin was now covered in scruff that he'd taken to grooming only every few days, and his brown hair seemed darker now and was clearly in need of a trim as it curled at the ends. But his money-making smile was still there, and his blue eyes still were able to pull the earnest puppy stare that had brought him so many good moments in his life.

With a deep breath, he pulled the ring out of his pocket and slid it on his finger, where it belonged. It has always belonged there, and he had every intention of keeping it that way. Turning around, he knocked on the wall and then slipped his hands into his pockets.

A guard came down and escorted him to the exit, his steps dragging next to him. He faced him before opening the final door between him and freedom.

"Ready for your new life, Mr. Jones?"

"I'm ready."

Stepping out of the minimum security correctional facility, he vowed to himself that he'd never come back. They caught him once, shame on the ones that had betrayed him. If they caught him twice, it would be a shame on him. And he'd make damn sure that would never happen. He had plans for his life, and they didn't involve another stint in jail.

Liam Jones was going to get back what belonged to him.

And a few other things that didn't.

/-/

There was always comfort in the little details. Standing in the middle of one of the many casino's main floor in the city, he took a moment to close his eyes, take a deep breath, and let it all sink in. The buzz of hundreds of whispered conversations, the clang of the coins pouring from the slot machines, the roll of the dice against felt, the distinct sound of the ball skipping along the roulette wheel. They each came together in a perfect cacophony. Combine them with the smell of liquor, cheap perfume, sweat, and cigarette smoke that not even smoking restriction laws had been able to completely eradicate, it produced an ambience that Liam loved like the second home it was to him.

Opening his eyes, Liam scanned the room trying to find what he was looking for. He couldn't find it, but it was ok… he could kill some time at one of the tables and let the story unravel itself. He was sure that if he didn't find her, she will find him.

He sat at one of the tables, reaching into his pocket to pull a couple of crumpled hundred-dollar bills. He had beaten a poor fool at pool in one of the pit stops on his journey to Atlantic City, getting himself a few hundred bills that he now needed to put to work if he wanted to have some sort of steady petty cash to support him for the next few weeks.

His fingers traced a pattern on the felt and the feel of the soft texture under his fingertips send shivers down his spine. He was home. Or as closer to home as he'd ever been. He tilted his head, letting a lazy smile coming to his lips as he looked at the croupier calling for the bets. He tossed a few chips and waited.

The croupier smiled to the table - that flirty I'm on your side half hidden smile that had naives fooled - and she started to deal the hand.

Liam's mind woke up, sharpening with each whir of cards shuffling and being dealt on the felt. His eyes zeroed in on the table, his brain analyzing every bit of information about the game, every possibility and most likely outcomes. Like breathing, his mind drifted over different tactics and he made his move.

Nineteen. The house pulled eighteen. Win.

Fourteen. The house ran over. Win.

He put all his wins on the next bet. Black Jack.

Bloody hell, it was good to be back.

It wasn't long until a second dealer showed up, a pit boss circling nearby like a vulture waiting for its prey. The new dealer smiled, arranging her hair to the side and showing up her cufflinks to the table before speaking. There was only a hint of nerves on her voice, but Liam could feel it. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, my name is Tina and I'll be dealing for you." Her eyes darted quickly in Liam's direction, a warning hint passing fleetingly before she was back to her professional self.

Liam played with the chips, dropping them one by one on the felt as everyone else on the table made their bets. It was only him left.

"Sir, in or out?" Tina called, an eyebrow rising slightly at him.

Liam tilted his head and made tsk sound with the corner of his mouth. "Out. The table is cold anyway." He flipped a chip with his thumb and the croupier caught it, a smile gracing her lips.

"You might want to try the lounge at the Olympus. I heard it gets interesting around one."

Liam smiled as he stood up and buttoned his suit jacket. "I'll be sure to check it out, thank you for the tip."

At precisely one clock, he was nursing his glass of straight Macallan when he felt someone sitting next to him.

He smiled and tilted his head as he took a sip of his whiskey. "Fancy meeting you here, Tina."

The woman next to him gave him a feline smile, her hand signaling to the bartender. "Ursula Mount couldn't pass a gaming board. Tina Matthews definitely can." She nodded to the bartender that placed her drink in front of her and took a sip before her eyes focused on him. "When did you get out?"

"This morning."

"I see that you've come out a new man and all that," Ursula offered sarcastically, her eyes drifting to the drink in Liam's hand and his whereabouts.

Liam shrugged nonchalantly and tapped a finger on the newspaper that laid open next to him. "Just having one drink and catching up with current events."

"I can save you some time on that: Gold tore down the Nautilus." There was a hint of regret and sadness in Ursula's voice, her eyes also dimming as she spoke the words.

Liam's own eyes reflected that sadness, his head lowering down and he ran a hand through his hair. "How's Nemo doing?"

"As bad as expected, an even a little worse. Dad called him, tried to get him to come here for a few weeks, but it was a futile attempt. I wouldn't blame the man, as Dad is going through his own set of past-midlife crisis."

"Is he?" Liam asked concerned. Things were not looking up for him with this news.

"He retired." Ursula shivered as if the words were harming her. "Spends most of his time at the horse's race, eating walnuts and claiming he's going to buy a condo in Boca next year."

Liam pondered her words. "That's bad."

"That's beneath him… but he doesn't seem to care anymore." Ursula gulped down the rest of her drink and order another. "But I don't' blame him. The business has changed for us. Too much technology at the ready, too many variables to control. Tangible assets are hard to find unless you want to start embezzling regular people out of their hidden savings."

Liam shivered in disgust. "That's just plain bad form."

"I know… but banks are highly protected and even if you can get there, it's all electronics any way. Other than the Federal Reserve… what's left?"

"Casinos."

Liam waited for two beats before he locked his eyes to Ursula's. Her eyes had widened in surprise before she gave him a mischievous smile. "What are you up to, Liam Jones?"

He feigned offense. "Me? Nothing. I'm just a man who's been given a second chance and intends to be a law-abiding citizen." He cocked an eyebrow at her and Ursula, catching his meaning, quickly nodded.

Good. One done, more to go.

"All I care about at this moment is to reunite with my beloved family." Liam played with the edge of his glass. "Do you know where he is?"

"Last I heard, he was down in L.A., teaching celebrities how to play cards."

"You're bloody kidding me," Liam blurted out without being able to hide his contempt.

Ursula sighed and her eyes dimmed again. "He all but disappeared, and has made himself hard to keep track of. After Tuscany, he seemed to have lost his edge. And then you got caught and it seems he only went downhill from there. Without you, he's been lost, Liam."

It seems everyone - his friends, his mentor, his own brother - and everything had fallen apart while he was sporting orange suits and mopping floors.

"Well, good luck I'm finally here to make you all find yourselves again." He placed a few notes on the counter and stood. "I better get to work then."

"Heading to L.A.?"

Liam nodded. "Right after I call my parole officer and promise not to leave the state."

Ursula shook her head, a smile coming to her lips. "I'll see you again, soon."

Liam took her hand and kissed it. "I'll send word."

He turned around and left the bar.

Hang on, little brother. I'm on my way.

/-/

This could not be his life.

That was the mantra Killian Jones kept repeating to himself, his fingers working over the knots and numbness licking across the scar that wound along his left wrist and forearm. He massaged along the lines of the tattoo that covered the worst of it, but there was still some scarring visible.

Sweat slicked down his skin, pooling at his throat and along his brow. The heat and the humidity here were going to kill him. That was not an exaggeration, no matter what Liam might have said about him having a penchant towards the dramatic. His shirt was sticking to his skin, causing an itch to ghost at his neck and the small of his back. It was enough to make him want to book the first plane out of town. It didn't exactly matter where, as long as it led to a chillier location where at least a thick sweater and a leather jacket would be needed to be near the ocean.

But he reminded himself that none of that mattered now.

Taking a deep breath that probably qualified as more of a sigh, he crossed the posh bar - with its dim lights, black lacquered furniture and chromed steeled decoration -, making his way into the back VIP room. He stretched his head to the side, straining the muscles of his neck as he took a seat at the round table. Five up-and-coming Hollywood celebrities sat around it, each of them smiling as they waited eagerly for his lessons on how to play poker magnificently.

Killian would be lucky if they remembered to deal to the correct side and how many cards made a hand by the end of the night.

"Alright lads and lasses, let the game begin." He smirked at the table, his eyes scanning each of them as he dealt the first hand. One of the women - Katie? Zoey? They all look the same to him these days and none of them seemed worth the effort - batted her eyelashes at him. She played coyly with her hair, curling a strand around her fingers as she leaned towards him, her eyes hooded and her voice laced with intent as she bent over the table and asks for the tenth time that night if he felt himself lucky.

Not a chance, lass.

For the next forty minutes, Killian tried - and failed - to teach any of these bloody buffoons the basics of poker. It was as if they couldn't retain even the simplest of information or even attempt the most basic calculations. It was a miracle their agents hadn't embezzled any of what they've made, and Killian was seriously considering a massive scheme of his own on them when they collectively decided it was time for a break and ordered a round of martinis.

Kale Martinis.

What hell had he entered when he agreed to this?

Unable to get away fast enough, he made his way to the bar on the main floor where he ordered a glass of rum with two ice cubes, swallowed it back in one gulp, and asked the bartender to refill the glass with a wave of his hand. He took a moment to hold the drink to his temple, willing it to soothe away the pounding headache that was forming above his right eye. He really needed to walk away from this dreadful existence. He lifted his eyes to the stage across the room, but not even the sight of the dancers, their sculpted legs, tight abs, and bright smiles, made him feel anything at all. He was numb. Everything in his life staking up as one dull moment after another, all blurring together with the flashing lights of the endless row of nightclubs and the stale smell of private poker games.

He needed out. He just didn't know how.

The walk back to the VIP room felt like walking towards the gallows, his feet leaden, each step a monumental effort to take. His head hurt, his scars itched under his tattoo, and he simply didn't want to be there. The voices within drifted through the open door, and he realized he must have been more tired than he thought because he was clearly hearing things. There was no possible way someone else would have joined the table. But when he finally entered the room, the sight before him made him freeze in place.

Liam.

It couldn't be. Killian blinked - slowly, deliberately - just to be sure. But Liam was still sitting there when he finished, perched on a chair he'd pulled up to the end of the table, the smirk resting on his lips in only the way his older brother could do.

Bloody fucking hell.

Taking a moment to compose himself, Killian swaggered to the table. "I see we have company."

"Oh, yes." Tyler pointed to the 'stranger,' showing his cards to the table in the process. Killian shook his head in defeat.

"I hope you don't mind," Liam drawled. "I was told it was ok if I joined."

His brother was up to something, and it only took Killian a second to catch up. "Not at all." He reached for the deck of cards and leaned back, cutting and shuffling it with one hand in one swift move. He cocked an eyebrow at Liam. "It'd be good to have some competition."

He dealt the cards and took a quick look at his hand. Two beats later, Liam made his initial bet of five hundred.

"Now, lads, remember rule number one of poker." He looked around at the table, only to find all of his students looking blankly at him.

Oh, for fuck's sake. He was done with this shit.

"Leave emotion at the door. The game should never be personal."

"Your teacher here has a point." Liam countered, tilting his head and giving the table his trademark smirk. He could see Katie/Zoey and Lili instinctively leaning closer to him, causing Killian to have to reign in the laugh that threatened to burst past his lips. "Neither should be pulling a job for the wrong reasons."

He had him there, and Killian could only nod in turn. "Now… if I were to read this table at the moment, I would tell you that our friend here is diverting the attention. He made a big bet and now is sitting there waiting for you to call it. The question is… is he bluffing? A bet this strong in the beginning makes me think he is."

"Maybe you should call it and see." Liam's soft voice carried a challenge that could not be denied.

Oh, his brother had always been good.

Killian called and the rest went in turn, some of them following his lead but a couple took the bait and raised the bet. At one point, Liam had to make KJ fold - even they couldn't let someone who needed to change out four cards continue betting, there was such a thing as good form after all - and then raised the bet one more time. Heavily.

"Now," Killian continued, "he could have a very good hand. Or he could be trying to buy his way out of his initial bluff." He cupped his cards and tapped the bottom of them against the table. "I'm not going to tell you what to do, but let me tell you something my older brother once told me: A man not willing to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets."

Liam raised an eyebrow at him. "Your brother is a wise man."

"More like a self-righteous wanker," Killian retorted. "But he's family."

He didn't miss the way Liam's eyes flashed before the action at the table broke the moment. Soon the pot was in the tens of thousands and everyone showed their cards.

Liam was the last. He seemed to fidget for a second before fanning his hand out across the table.

Four nines and an ace.

Killian grinned. Damn, brother, it's good to have you back.

The game ended, the budding celebrity dilettantes exiting quickly out of the VIP room to take selfies, update their Instagram status, and work their social media footprint. Killian's glare was enough to put off any requests for him to join in the pictures they wanted to post. After a few more handshakes and a promise that he'd let them know when the next game would take place, Killian finally left the club via the back exit. He didn't want any more attention on himself. Craning his neck to the side and letting the tension lift from his shoulders, he searched the surrounding area until he found what he was looking for.

Liam was standing a few yards away, his hands in his pockets, artfully leaning against the stucco wall of the building across the way. Killian slipped over to stand beside him. Without even a sideways glance, Liam took his hand out of his pocket and handed him a stack of bills. His cut for tonight's job.

"Teaching poker to celebrities? Really, little brother? How low have you fallen…" The humor in Liam's voice almost brought tears to Killian's eyes. He'd missed him so much, and it had been hell to stay away while he was in the joint. Liam had been adamant, though, that he didn't want visitors. Not even Killian.

"I'm bored, Liam," he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I know you are and I have just the thing to snap you out of your funk." Liam clasped his hand on his shoulder. "Let's get out of here and I'll buy you a drink."

"Coffee," Killian amended and chuckled at his brother's raised eyebrow. "I assume I'll want all my wits about me for whatever it is you're about to tell me."

"Probably."

/-/

Killian sat across from his brother, the two of them occupying a hidden booth in the corner of a deserted dinner while he waited as patiently as he could for Liam to tell him the plan. But after a few minutes, it seemed his brother was still pondering how to start.

"Just bloody tell me, Liam."

Liam sighed and ran his hand through his hair and Killian smiled at just how much he had missed watching that trademark Jones move. "It's tricky and it would require a large crew that I need your help gathering together."

"Of course you do." Killian shrugged, as he leaned back and played with his saucer, rotating it on the plate with one finger. "I'm the charmer."

"And I'm the brains."

"I wouldn't do that far, but let's say you're a tiny bit better than me at planning the big picture." He held up his hand, holding his thumb and forefinger together. But only just a tad." He wasn't cowered by Liam's glare. His brother could take the hit. "What's the target?"

"Been to Vegas lately?"

Killian's smile dropped. Surely Liam didn't mean…. "You want to hit a casino."

Liam shook his head, taking a sip of his coffee. "Not one. Three."

Killian choked. "Are you out of your mind? We can't take on three casinos."

"Yes, we can, little brother. And we will."

Liam pulled a folded-up piece of paper from his jacket and spread it open on the table. Killian leaned over to take a look. It was a floorplan. Killian studied it with the keen eye he was known for in the business.

"If I'm reading this right - and you know I am - this is the least accessible vault I've ever seen." Killian's fingers traced the floorplan, his mind scanning all the possible ways to bypass the security measures. "And this is only one casino."

Liam pointed out two main ways in on the blueprint. "These two feed into the cages of The Gold and The Dagger. Every single dollar ends up in this vault. The vault of The Baelfire."

"The Baelfire, The Gold and The Dagger." Realization dawned on Killian. Bloody hell. "Liam these are Gold's casinos." Leave it to his brother to go this route.

"It's about time we hit him, don't you think?"

Yes, beyond time as far as Killian was concerned, but he wasn't convinced it was the best idea at this juncture. But a part of him couldn't help himself, already jumping into planning mode and seeing the picture unfold in front of his eyes.

"How many people do you think we need? Seven or eight?"

"Hell, no. We need at least ten. And we need a variety of things happening at the same time."

Liam crossed his arms over his chest. "A Boesky."

Killian mirrored his brother's stance and tilted his head as he saw it all play in front of him. "A Jim Brown, two Jethros."

Liam seemed to be envisioning the same picture he was. "A Miss Daisy and a Leon Spinks."

"And the biggest Ella Fitzgerald in the bloody history of cons." Killian sighed. "Unless you tell me you met a rich widow via letter while in jail, we don't have the start-up capital to back this."

"We don't… but you and I know someone who would love to help us fuck Gold over." There was something somber in Liam's voice and Killian knew he had to address that eventually, but his mind was already going to the same place Liam was trying to steer him to.

"Nemo."

It made sense that their former mentor would want to be part of this. Gold had managed to get Nemo out of the business, and tore down his beloved casino, The Nautilus, once he had. Nemo had spiraled down into depression ever since and not even Killian's outrageous tales of the teen celebrities he was teaching were able to bring a smile to the man's face. Maybe this was a step in the right direction.

But Killian still needed more. Something was not adding up. "I need a reason, Liam."

His brother shrugged. "Eight figures each. That should be reason enough."

No, it wasn't. Not if they were going to risk so much. "Come on, Liam. Don't tell me this is about the money. You and I can play safer schemes and make decent money. Probably not eight figures, but enough to grant us a good life." His eyes bored into his brother's. "Tell me why."

Something dark flickered in Liam's eyes and Killian had a keen sense of the man his brother had to become while surviving in jail. "Because I walked out of prison after losing two years of my life. Because you've gone adrift and it has gotten so bad that you're teaching the latest TMZ headliners how to play cards. And you're not even succeeding. Because it's time we make Gold pay… and we hit him where it will hurt." He paused. "Because no one messes with the Brothers Jones."

Silence. One beat, two, and then three.

"Did I rush it?" Liam asked, his voice hesitant.

"No, it was a good speech. You were always good at motivational speeches."

"What do you say, Killian? Shall we do this?"

Killian smirked. "Let's go talk to Nemo."