Thank you all for the continued support! I do have one request. I kind of hate the title but couldn't come up with something better. Now that you know the premise of the story, do you have any suggestions?

Another blindfolded drive later and Mal was back at ACIA headquarters. This time she had been allowed to see more than one tiny interrogation room. She was led past heavily guarded turnstiles, where Ben scanned his ID and they both walked through metal detectors. Because Mal had very reluctantly left her weapons behind, the detectors did not alarm.

An open atrium with high-vaulted ceilings branched off into five or six hallways. Everywhere she looked, Mal saw harried people in prim suits hurrying to and fro, discussing things in hushed tones, disappearing into the offices that lined the hallways. Several of them greeted Ben, gave her a once-over, and continued on their way.

Ben pulled her into an office with absurdly large windows - for such a secretive organization, at least - looking back out onto the adjacent hallway. He sat behind a neat desk and gestured for her to sit across from him, then grabbed a binder from a locked file cabinet behind him.

This one was full of mug shots. Familiar mug shots. "These are all the Green Dragons we have on file. A lot of the information on them is piecemeal at best, but I've been trying to fill in the missing portions." Mal flipped through the binder, taking in the names and faces. Her mother. Herself. Ursula. Gaston. The Captain. Anastasia. Drizella. Harry. Jay. Uma. Gil. Junior. Jafar. Cruella. There were a few core people missing, as well as several peripheral sellers and partners, but it was pretty impressive.

"So, what? You want me to write down all of their addresses?"

Ben smiled. "No. I'd like you to get me in."

"Get you...in." Mal leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "You want to go undercover."

"Is that something you'd help me with?"

She snorted. "Do I have a choice?"

"Yes, actually." Ben leaned forward, serious now. "I want to make one thing very clear, Mal. I'm not interested in putting your life in danger. If at any point - no matter what's happening - you decide you want out, then you're out. No questions asked."

Mal was a little taken aback by his intensity. When he was being sincere, she noticed, those blue eyes seemed a little more vivid, almost electric. "How can you just let me do that? Won't it ruin all your plans?"

"It'll set them back a few years, sure, but we've got safeguards in place so nothing's 'ruined', per se. What matters is that you know your mother best, and if you think she's caught wind of you breaking ranks, you'll need to get out. I'd rather you tell me that you're done, so I don't find out in the middle of an op and lose a lot of good men - or find out when you turn up dead."

"I guess that's fair," Mal murmured. It was more than fair. Any other cop would have blackmailed her into continuing the charade. Though who knew, he still might - all this could be an empty promise. "I assume that if I double-cross you I get arrested, but if I don't...?"

"We're offering you immunity." He set a piece of paper in front of her, on which the terms of their new working relationship were outlined. It was a lot of legalese a high school drop-out like Mal had no hope of understanding. But Ben knew that. "The immunity isn't contingent on your mother's conviction. It's for helping us at all. Even if everything falls through - and of course, barring any future criminal activity that isn't required for the investigation."

She had to trust that was what it actually said, and Mal wasn't big on trust. Especially not with this guy. She struggled through the paragraphs while he looked on silently. Then she shook her head. "I can't sign this. Who's to say you aren't screwing me over with some loophole?"

"You don't have to sign it. I will." He did so. "You need to save a picture of it, or a copy of it, somewhere. It's for your protection, in case I die or am otherwise incapacitated - that way the ACIA still knows what we owe you."

"Oh." That little piece of paper was all that stood between her past and a lifetime in jail. It seemed inadequate. "So what if - "

Behind her, there was a knock on the glass door. An imposing, middle-aged man with thick-rimmed glasses entered. He was, of course, wearing yet another expensive suit. Ben stood up to greet him. "Mal, this is the ACIA's Director. Director, this is Mal."

The Director held out a hand for her to shake, but his suspicious look was not lost on her. "Pleasure to meet you. I asked Agent Kingsley to allow me to speak with you for a few minutes." He sat down in Ben's chair. Mal only realized how relaxed she had been with Ben now that this new man was staring down at her. "Before we begin, I want you to understand that it is my responsibility to ensure the safety of my operatives first, and the success of my operations second. Therein lie the root of my questions. First, I need to know your weaknesses and what can be used against you. You have a mother, living. Any other family?"

Mal glanced at Ben, who was barely hiding what he thought about this interrogation. He shrugged helplessly. "Not that I know of."

"Father?"

"Don't know who or where he is."

"Friends?"

"No." Ben coughed pointedly behind her, but the Director ignored him.

"Children?"

"No."

"Any addictions? Drugs, gambling, drinking?" The questions were coming so fast, she was sure he did this regularly.

"No."

"Debts?"

"Currently thirty thousand dollars in the hole, thanks to you guys interrupting our deal the other night. Otherwise, no."

"Romantic partners?"

"No. How is any of this your business?"

"Because," the Director explained slowly, as if she were a child, "if any of these things are held over your head, it endangers my people. That being said, we can provide protection for people you care for. But you already knew that. We took care of your friend Gil."

"Not my friend," Mal corrected. "He's a...whatever you guys call them nowadays. He's slow. But I don't care about him. I don't care about anyone."

The Director let that bold claim hang in the air between them for a second. "So you're telling me there's no way of getting to you. No one or nothing that means something to you, that you can be threatened with."

She eyed him coldly. "Did I stutter?"

He exchanged looks with Ben. "I'm going to have a word with Agent Kingsley. Wait here, please. We won't be more than a few minutes."

Mal had a good idea of what that conversation would be about. The Director had said as much with his body language before he and Ben left the room. How can you trust this monster? She refused to turn around and watch them arguing in the hallway, choosing instead to flip through Ben's binder on the Green Dragons some more. Jesus. They even had records on Carlos. He was only a small-time dealer at his school. A kid. Already the law had decided he was on the wrong side.

The law had decided that about her the minute she'd been born, Mal reminded herself. Her first stint in juvie had been littered with the phrase "like mother, like daughter," but she'd been hearing that her entire life. Only one person had ever given her a chance to be something other than Maleficent's spawn. Two, she supposed, if Ben was at all genuine. Judging by the Director's reaction, he would not be joining that club.

Ben returned, smiling as placidly as always. "I think that went well."

"He doesn't want you doing this," Mal countered.

"No he doesn't. But in the end, he knows this is the best way to get Maleficent. He'll approve it, however reluctantly. I'm not worried about that." He turned his gaze on her. "What about you? I assumed you knew the ACIA wasn't going to welcome you with open arms. But maybe it's worse than you thought. Does that change things?"

Mal replaced the binder on the desk, open to the last page. A police report from when Evie had stolen a few hundred dollars worth of makeup from a high-end store to the north of the Isle. Her best friend's face stared up at her from the mugshot, looking as glamorous as a supermodel largely thanks to the crime she had committed. "You say this is the best way to get Maleficent. The best way to get justice for Evie. As long has that hasn't changed, my mind hasn't either."

The heavy bass blasted through the club's speakers, the volume just below that which would render any hope of conversation obsolete. People communicated in short shouts or gestures, though even those were a bit difficult to interpret in the flashing strobe lights. Mal lounged on one of the ratty couches in what passed as this joint's 'VIP' section, with Ben sitting beside her. He looked ridiculous, as far as Mal was concerned, but he had been inexplicably excited about wearing the beanie that was currently perched on his head. "I never get to dress like this," he'd told her. Ripped jeans, a tattered leather jacket, and - of all things - fingerless gloves. Mal had told him he looked ready to train some Pokemon, which got a laugh out of him. But at least he could pass as the rich collegiate 'rebel' he was supposed to be. For her part, her only new accessory was the burner phone Ben had given her. She used them all the time, and while Maleficent did go through her phones often, hopefully after today this new one would not be suspicious.

"That's the Doctor. Real name Facilier. And he's not a doctor," Mal told Ben as the object of their discussion entered the dimly lit nightclub.

"So why call him the Doctor?"

"He takes care of accounts. Doctors the books. Also has a penchant for scalpels, so try not to startle him." She spared the entrance another glance to see who followed Facilier. "And that's Shan Yu. Real quiet guy. Not sure he speaks English. But he snaps necks like twigs."

"That's...nice." He took a sip of seltzer water - his drink of choice, as it turned out, while on the job. "Have they ever been arrested?"

"Facilier lets other people do his dirty work. And Shan Yu's new, just showed up last - oh no."

Harry Hook wasn't supposed to be at this meeting. He was impulsive, and stupid, and full of himself, and nowhere near the kind of person Maleficent would invite to her inner circle. But it was a Friday night, and this lowlife had nowhere else to be except the Isle's shittiest club. And now he had spotted Mal.

Ben tried to voice concern for her sudden alarm - she shushed him. "Let me do the talking. Don't say a word."

"New fling, eh, Mal?" Harry's thick Scottish accent covered every word like syrup. The cocky young man looked over Ben with disdain. "Seems a bit of a pansy."

"Guess I have a type," Mal drawled, outwardly calm though her sharp eyes didn't miss a single one of his movements. "What do you want, Harry?"

"The real question, Mal, is what ye want." He came so close to her that his legs knocked together with her knees, and leaned over to rest one of his hands on the couch on either side of her head. "And the answer, I reckon, is a real man."

In a flash, Mal had swept her leg through both of his and he collapsed, partly on her lap. She pushed him off and, without getting up, pressed a foot to his throat. Ben exclaimed in protest, but she silenced him with a look. It was her turn to lean over Harry, her eyes narrowed. "If you see a real man, let me know. Until then, stay the hell away from me."

Harry laughed, though the sound was quickly cut off but Mal digging the toe of her shoe into his trachea. He shoved her leg off of him, rubbing at the imprint her sole had left on his skin. "Can't pretend we've no done that before."

"Shut up." She was getting really irritated now. "It was one time. Years ago. You need to stop pretending we have anything going on."

"An' ye need tae stop bringin' in randos off the street just tae get me riled up. I mean, it works a charm, but - "

Mal stood up. Her hand floated to her back pocket. "Do you ever want kids, Harry?"

"With ye, darlin'?" He flashed a grin.

"No." She pulled out a dagger. "I mean in general."

At least he knew enough to take this threat seriously. The blood drained out of his face, and he mumbled at Ben - "She'll drop ye like a drawbridge tae, just ye wait." Then he turned on his heel, heading in the general direction of anywhere-the-hell-else.

"Seems like a nice guy," Ben remarked. "How did he already know our 'history'?"

"He didn't. He assumes that I'm sleeping with every guy he sees me with." Mal flopped back onto the couch, twirling her dagger between her fingers. "He wasn't invited to this meeting. I didn't think we'd have to deal with him today."

"I'm sorry you have to deal with him at all." Mal shrugged. "If he really cared about you, he would respect your boundaries."

She scoffed. "He doesn't care about me. No one here cares about anyone else. It's all about what other people can do for you."

"If you're just looking to survive, that makes sense," Ben considered. His shoulders sagged a little, and when he spoke again his voice was quiet and subdued. "But that's the worst kind of place to be in when you've lost someone you loved. There's nothing to fall back on, is there? No one to catch you."

What on Earth was he doing, talking about this in public? Granted, he hadn't mentioned any names, but by this point he knew what the thought of Evie did to Mal. And worse, his eyes had locked with hers again, and she couldn't look away. All those feelings swirled up - the pain, the anger, the guilt - but instead of overwhelming her, the vulnerability gave way to a strange sort of comfort. She already knew he wouldn't punish her for feeling this way, but neither was he pitying her. He was telling her let me share that grief with you, so you don't have to feel all of it, all the time.

But that couldn't possibly be what was happening, because he was a stranger. He was using her, just as she was using him, just as everyone in this building was using everyone else. He had no reason to care, either. Before Mal could use that dose of reality to force herself to look away, Ben broke eye contact and tensed. "She's here."

Maleficent, in all her imposing glory. It occurred to Mal that this was the first time Ben had seen her in person. There was something about her - kind of an aura of evil - that just couldn't be captured in a photograph. Maleficent had a posture that would have made a drill sergeant proud, and always seemed to be looking down on others no matter their height. Mal could have sworn she'd seen plants wilt after her mother had walked by them. Even Ben, who until this point had been nothing but pleasant, tightened his jaw and clenched his fists.

Mal's heart was racing. She was already on edge whenever her mother was near, but now, she intended to actively deceive the most dangerous woman she'd ever known. Part of her brain screamed at her to abandon this whole charade and hand Ben over - the part of her brain that always obeyed her mother, no matter what. The part of her brain that knew the consequences of treachery and betrayal. The part of her brain that had never grown past the heartbreak of seeing her best friend's blood on cold, hard concrete.

But the other part of her brain, the part that sounded a lot like Evie, told her to stand up. To signal Ben that he should wait. To make her face a mask, like she had countless times before. To walk over to her mother before the meeting started. "Did Gaston talk to you about Gil?"

"Said he was happy to be rid of the burden. He won't retaliate," said Maleficent. "I still want you to keep an eye on him, and on his other kids." She looked back at where Mal had come from and groaned. "What is this? You bring your boytoys here now?"

"Only if they want to start selling. And he's at Auradon University - can't get a bigger market than that."

"Where did you meet him? When?" her mother demanded.

"At a bar a couple months ago. Slept with him a few times." It was common knowledge that Auradonian cops would not prostitute themselves while undercover - Maleficent herself had taught Mal this. "Last time he said his parents were cutting him off since he's been partying through college for six years. He's a moron, but he can be discreet."

"How much of a moron?" Maleficent waved him over. "Being a small time dealer isn't going to replace the money for the life he's clearly used to living."

"I'm pretty sure we can get a year or two out of him before he figures that out. He'll definitely bring in the thirty thousand I lost last week before he's done. And after that, he's disposable."

Ben beamed widely as he approached and held out his hand. "Hi, I'm Ben. Nice to meet you." Maleficent glared at him until he awkwardly let his hand drop. "Uh...I'm, uh...looking to be a...distributor."

"A distributor," Maleficent repeated, her voice laced with scorn. She turned to Mal. "You think this idiot can sell thirty thousand dollars worth of anything?"

"No, yeah, I definitely can. I've sold Ritalin before," Ben told her. "And a bunch of my buddies are in frats. They party every weekend."

"I think it's a lot of untapped potential. So I can, you know, help. To make the money up to you," Mal added. She knew she was right on the border of laying it on too thick, and her palpitations worsened while Maleficent thought about it.

Finally, "If this project of yours takes you away from any of the duties I expect from you," she warned Mal, "there will be hell to pay."

"I know. I won't let that happen." The quiver in her voice was very real, and Maleficent knew her threat had landed. She left for the back room, and Mal let out a deep breath.

"Are you okay?" Ben put a hand on her shoulder, which she immediately shrugged off.

"I'm fine. And I have to sit in on this meeting. You should leave." Even she heard the flatness in her tone. Sometimes the mask was hard to take off.

"Yeah, okay." She was about to tear into him for the doubt and worry written all over his face - like he knew what she could handle and what she couldn't! - but then he stepped closer and murmured into her ear, as softly as the music would allow so no one else would hear, "Thank you, Mal. I know this can't be easy for you. And it would've taken me months to get to this point without you."

"Um - " She didn't often need to respond to gratitude in the Isle, and was at a loss for words.

Ben didn't wait for an answer. "I'll text you," he told her at full volume after pulling back. Then he smiled and walked out, leaving her with the humiliating realization that for the second time that day, he'd disarmed her to an alarming degree. It doesn't matter. You're not even doing this for him. You're doing this for me, Evie reminded her. We don't need his thanks. We don't need his sympathy. We just need him to do his job.