well, everyone, it's been a wild ride. sorry if this feels kinda rushed, I wasn't 100% sure how to end this. but, hey. its ended.

fair warning, this briefly mentions drugs, nonconsensual drug use, and hints at sexual assault.

Carlos's eyes fluttered open, the light of the sun peeking through the blinds. He blinked, trying to clear the fuzziness from his vision. He shifted in the bed. These were not the scratchy sheets of his hotel bed. These were softer, as though they had been very freshly laundered. He started to sit up, joints creaking as he shifted, blankets falling and revealing his bare chest. He lifted the sheets and glanced, eyes squinted. Yep. Just boxers. He deduced.

He stretched his arms, yawning a wide-mouth yawn and scratching the back of his head. He groped at the fuzzy-edged shape of the bedside table, finding his glasses neatly folded. He unfolded the arms from the frames, slipping them over his ears. He blinked owlishly, the sun from the blinds creating the beginnings of a headache.

The federal agent glanced around the small room, seeing his clothing from the night before folded and sitting on a chair.

Oh. Right. He thought with a shiver. Cecil. He drugged me, didn't he? But why?

Carlos glanced around the room, out of habit, and stood slowly to reach for the clothes on the chair. Did he find out I knew? He asked himself,Maybe he thought I was getting to close to finding something out.

A note fluttered from the clothes as he took them from the chair. He picked it up, holding it by the edges.

"Carlos,
You have a lot of questions. I have answers. And breakfast."

The letter wasn't signed with a name. Just an insignia of an eye with a crescent moon in the pupil.

The same eye that was on the USB drives left at the museums.

Carlos pulled the jeans up his legs and buckled his belt, the room quiet save for the muted clink of metal on metal. He glanced back at the bed behind him, where only hours before he'd let down the walls he'd built around himself. He frowned. So that's what he got for just this once.

He shook the thought, tapping the lock button on his phone. Dead. of course, dead. He sighed, pocketing the device, instead focusing on buttoning the buttons of his shirt as he walked out of the bedroom and out to the open living room and kitchen area. The quiet hiss and occasional pop of bacon and eggs came from the kitchen, where Cecil now stood wearing a pair of boxers and a tee-shirt about three sizes too big so it looked more like a dress almost, the sleeves down to his elbows and a little bit tattered at the edges. Carlos watched him shuffle food around on the pan with a plastic spatula, as if he didn't even realize Carlos was awake. Carlos felt a twinge in his chest. Had he met this man under different circumstances, or in a different time, or a different life, even, he might've felt happy at the sight.

But here, now, under these circumstances, he did not. If anything, he felt wary, suspicious. He crossed his arms, leaning against the chair next to the table. After a few moments of simply watching, he cleared his throat.

Cecil stiffened in surprise, and turned around. "Oh!" he said aloud, then turned back and offered a small smile to Carlos. "Oh, you're awake."

"Yeah," Carlos replied blankly.

Cecil turned around, a plate of pancakes with bacon and eggs in his hands. "I… Made breakfast." He said, quietly.

"Smells good." Carlos answered honestly, his arms crossed. "Are these going to put me back to sleep?"

Cecil ducked his head, staring awkwardly at the ground. "So, um. I guess you're mad about that, huh?"

"A little bit," Carlos frowned, his arms still crossed. "But I'm not as confused as to why you drugged me as I am for why you're here now."

Cecil looked back up at Carlos, his face puzzled. "Well, this is my apartment," he said plainly, "plus, well, a part of me hoped you'd just… Forget? And maybe I could make it a normal morning-after breakfast?" He offered a nervous smile, but then looked serious, and sad. "But I came back mostly because I think I can trust you, and I need your help."

"You 'need my help'?!" Carlos repeated, disbelievingly. "I don't believe you!"

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "Jesus Christ Cecil, you are the Voice of Night Vale! You are the perpetrator in fifteen of the open case files on my desk, you've stolen thousands of dollars' worth of artifacts from all over the Desert Bluffs Metropolitan area, you stalked, seduced, not to mention drugged a federal agent- and you need my help?!" Carlos shook his head, feeling tears form in his eyes. "I mean, for god's sake, Cecil, did I ever mean anything to you at all Or was I just another mark, another treasure to be stolen, a means to an end?"

"No," Cecil answered immediately as he reached behind him, turning off the stove. "No, of course not, Carlos. I never wanted to use you. It may have started out that way, at first. I thought I could get myself to do it, but I couldn't…" Cecil glanced up at Carlos, tears forming in his eyes. "Carlos… what I said last night, I meant it. I really do care about you."

"You've sure got a funny way of showing it."Carlos replied dryly. "I just don't understand, Cecil. You have a case against them even without the drug charges. Your testimonies alone could put them away on a federal level, there are legal channels you could've gone through to-"

"Legal channels," Cecil huffed, crossing his arms, "Don't you think I tried that? Carlos, do you honestly think you're the first Federal agent that's been stationed here?"

Cecil crossed his arms over his front, hugging himself. "I tried to get them through legal channels. But they have so many hands putting money in pockets, they're untouchable save for something big they can't wriggle out of."

"Right, I guess you've got a point." Carlos nodded, crossing his arms defensively. "So what exactly do you need from me?"

"All we need is for you to turn your investigation towards the building that was robbed last night." Cecil's voice was soft and even, sounding distinctly like the recorded voice that had stumped his best analysts and their voice-recognition software. "Once it is investigated, there will be no need for a Voice of Night Vale."

"What was robbed last night?" Carlos asked, his voice becoming that of his trade.

"Not a museum." Cecil replied smoothly, turning back to the stovetop and stirring the eggs around on the pan so they would not burn. "I'll venture to guess that you wouldn't've been notified of it. But then again, I don't think that even the local police would've been notified." he almost shivered, using the spatula to spoon it onto two plates. "StrexCorp likes to handle their affairs internally. They probably already have their attack dog on it as we speak."

"Detective Free." Carlos murmured.

"Bingo, Gluten-free spaghetti-o's." Cecil nodded. "Though 'detective' is a strong word. Maybe 'enforcer' is more fitting."

"So he's a hired goon," Carlos nodded, twirling his ring idly. "He's the one they call to clean up the messes and keep Strexcorp noses clean."

"Exactly." Cecil nodded, putting one plate in Carlos's hands.

"Alright."Carlos nodded, looking away. "But Mr. Palmer, even though you're helping me in this case, I can't guarantee your safety in this. Or that you won't leave this in handcuffs."

"Agent Ramon," Cecil's voice took on a seductive tone and his face contorted into an attempt at a smirk. "I didn't place you as the type."

"Not like that Cecil!" Carlos felt his cheeks grow hot at the thought of Cecil's dirty suggestion, "I mean, you're still a felon! You broke into all those museums, you stole artifacts."

"I know, Carlos." Cecil said softly. "And I know, I'm not going to leave this with my hands clean. That's where the favor comes in."

Investigating the break-in wasn't the favor? "If… if it's possible…" Cecil swallowed, his voice heavy. "Only me."

Carlos narrowed his eyes, studying the reporter. "Only you?"

"Only take me." Cecil said softly. "It was all my idea. Don't bring them down with me."

"Them, meaning your team?" Carlos asked, putting the plate of food on the table behind him. "Just judging by your list of friends and family that came up with your file, I guess…" he thought for a moment. "Steve Carlsberg and Earl Harlan?"

Cecil nodded. "They didn't even do that much," Cecil tried to reason. "All Steve did was walk Janice around the museums. It was Earl and me that did the actual crimes." Cecil looked up at Carlos with almost desperate eyes. "Earl's son has autism, and he'd go into the system without him… and Steve, he's all my niece has left besides me. Please, Carlos, I'm begging you." tears started to form in his eyes. "I'll take the fall, I'll turn myself in and confess everything, I'll go to prison for the rest of my life or take the death penalty if I have to, but please, don't take my niece and godsons' fathers away."

Carlos took a deep breath, turning his face away so he wouldn't have to look into Cecil's eyes. "I… Cecil, I could get into a lot of trouble for that. No matter what their involvement, they're still involved. If my superiors found out I was lying by omission, we could all be in a lot of trouble."

Cecil looked down dejectedly. "I… I understand," Cecil's voice was soft.

Carlos cleared his throat quietly, "I'm sorry, Cecil," he said, honestly. "I wish it didn't have to be this way… I wish…" he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "God, I wish we could've met in some other life, under some other circumstances. In some other world where maybe I'm a scientist, and you're still the Community Radio host, and our times and spaces still cross." Carlos locked eyes with Cecil, his heart hurting at the sight of the tears. "Some other life, where we could just be Carlos and Cecil, not…"

"Agent Ramon and the Voice of Night Vale." Cecil said softly.

"Yes," Carlos broke eye contact.

They stood so close. But with the silence in the air there may as well have been a canyon between them. Cecil's sigh broke the silence. "You should go." he said softly. "I know you have work to do… hunting down the Voice of Night Vale."

"Y-yeah." Carlos said softly.

He wanted to go back. He wanted to touch, and to be touched. He wanted to tell this man to run, to take his family and run, at least until the statute of limitations was up. He wanted to. But somehow the words couldn't leave his throat and the actions couldn't make it past his clenched fists. "Be safe," Cecil's voice was soft.

Carlos was frozen to the spot as Cecil's lips planted to his cheek, only for a moment. "Scout's honor… I'll come forward when it is safe for my family to do so." Cecil said softly, "when Enforcer Free is behind bars."

"Alright." Carlos said softly, nodding.

Cecil offered a small half smile. "It's been a pleasure, Agent Ramon."

"You've been a worthy opponent, Mr. Palmer." Carlos replied with an even, restrained tone.

As Carlos turned to leave, something stopped him. "But," Carlos stopped at the door, "I do have one thing I can't figure out."

Cecil turned his head to the side, curiously. "Why wait until the museums were bought out?" Carlos asked, "You had plenty of reason to hate StrexCorp months before that, but you waited until the museums were bought out before you started your retaliation. Why?"

Cecil smiled and shook his head. "Simple, really," he said softly. "Those museums meant a lot to my Janice. Ever since she was a toddler, we used to visit one of the museums a week, just her, her mother, and I." Cecil's face suddenly looked thirty years older. "Then… well. Just her and I… It's been the one constant in her life since we lost my sister."

Cecil took a picture frame in his hand, a sad smile over his features. "They've… they've taken so much from us." he said softly. "You've read my file, don't deny it. You've seen what they've done to me." the former radio host frowned, his grip on the photograph tightening. "The beatings, the intimidation, the..." his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "The… other assaults… but I was happy to endure it all to keep Janice safe. To keep her happy…" Cecil sighed. "When I realized what the museums were going to be used for... " he shook his head. "I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't be silent a moment longer."

Carlos nodded in understanding, feeling a lump in his throat. "I'm sorry." Cecil shook his head. "I really didn't mean to make you feel guilty. You're just doing your job."

The "criminal mastermind" offered a sad smile. "Go and do your job… you'll find an anonymous tip was called in this morning. It explains the building you would do well to investigate." he said softly. "Be safe."

"You too." Carlos murmured, hesitating to leave, twirling his ring nervously.

He decided to leave before the dull ache in his chest made him stay.

8:43 AM. Police department, main office. "You're in late this morning," Carlos cringed slightly at the (Accusing? Annoyed? Amused? One of those sounded right) tone of Rachelle's voice and the smirk over her face.

"Lost track of time, you know how it goes." Carlos muttered in reply.

"Yeah, yeah I know," Rachelle kept up her smirk, taking a sip from her coffee cup. "Didn't see your car at the hotel last night." she used the hand holding the paper cup to gesture to his shirt and tie. "And that's awfully spiffy for you, for work. If I didn't know you better, I'd swear you went out on a date last night."

"I did not." Even Carlos could tell how petulant he sounded. "You know I was following up on a lead." Carlos kept his voice even and businesslike. The less Rachelle probed, the better.

"Sweetie," Rachelle immediately switched from the playful teasing to a more serious tone, "I've known you since the Academy. I know how you dress for a date." she nudged him. "And I know when you're walking the walk of shame, too."

Carlos's cheeks flushed a dark red. "Keep that up and I'll file a sexual harassment complaint." he muttered, only half kidding. "Seriously, Chelle, I don't want to talk about it."

She put her hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Okay, okay, sorry," she said defensively. "Geez, you'd think you'd be in a good mood after getting some."

"Harassment!" Carlos raised his voice, shaking his head.

"Whatever you say," she shrugged. "Come on, we got an"- finger quotes again(Rachelle was fond of those)- "'Anonymous tip' I think you'll want to hear."

Carlos frowned, biting his lip nervously. He followed Rachelle through the station, where Nils was set up with her computers. "What do you have for us, Nils?"

The girl glanced up from her screen, sliding the headphones off her ears. "More to add to the 'bag full of cats crazy' that is the Voice of Night Vale." she shook her head. "Speaking of which, did you happen to find out anything more about that Palmer guy?"

Immediately, Carlos felt the weight of the world on his throat. He wondered if the clocks not working in Night Vale that made time unreliable was somehow affecting him now, because there was no way so much time could've passed as he thought over what to say. "No," he said briskly, shaking his head and turning away. "Nothing we don't already know."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rachelle's dark eyes studying him. He prayed she wouldn't dig into this later. He'd already lied for Cecil, he didn't need to drag her into it as well. "Bummer," Nils shrugged, not seeming to catch onto his stiff reaction. "I thought for sure we had our guy. Anyways, here's the Anonymous Tip we got earlier."

She handed him the headphones, which he slipped over his ears easily. He felt chills run down his spine as the sound of the voice that would undoubtedly haunt his dreams for the rest of his life washed over him.

"Guess what day it is today, Agents! It's parade day! Remember how I told you about the not-at-all-secret parade today at the location we discussed via recording? Remember I publicly announced today's parade at that specific location? We want everyone at today's parade, at that time and place we discussed." Carlos racked his brain. They never actually discussed where Cecil wanted him to investigate. It had to be something StrexCorp related, and not a museum, but beyond that, he wasn't sure. "There will be lots of things happening! Planned things, strategic things. But definitely not a rebellion against what I can only call "a dystopian corpocratic regime."" Carlos snorted quietly in disbelief. Now that he'd heard Cecil's voice and could place a name to the sarcastic Voice, he couldn't unhear it. "Parade day has finally begun, Agent Ramon." Carlos felt shivers down his spine at the sound of his name as the voice dropped into an almost deadly tone. "Come to the parade grounds and see what kind of colors and noise a proud community can make."

Carlos shook his head and slid the headphones off his ears. "You're right. Bag full of cats crazy." he muttered. "What the hell is he talking about, Parade Day?"

"Who knows," Rachelle cocked her hip, running her fingers through her kinky-curly hair and scratching the back of her head. "Maybe it's just his way of saying 'look, StrexCorp's dirty laundry out in the open, out on parade.'"

Carlos hummed in thought, eyebrows furrowed and hand at his ring. "Something doesn't seem right." he muttered, "There is no date, no time, no location, anything. He just. Expects us to know where this is all going down."

"Maybe we already do." Nils muttered in reply. "It's faint, but if I isolate some of the noise…" she tapped a few keys, punctuating it with a final tap."There we go."

Carlos put the earphones back over his ears. "That's morse code," he said aloud, "let's see… um... " his morse code was a little rusty, but he could still recollect the letters vaguely. "G… O…-someone write this down- T- O- R… A…-Nils can you slow it down a little? Thank you. D… O… N… C… A… N… Y… O… N… S… T… R… E… X… C… O… R… P… H… Q…I… N... E… X… A… C… T… L… Y… Numerical two… H...O...U...R…S..." he glanced down at the paper Rachelle had been writing on. "'Go to Radon Canyon Strexcorp HQ in exactly two hours. Time?"

Rachelle glanced at her wrist. "Nine o'clock, on the dot."

"And what time did this call come through?" Carlos asked, focused.

Niljana checked the timestamp on the call. "Eight-thirty this morning." she told him.

"Right," Carlos nodded, "Rachelle, contact Sheriff Sam and tell them we need a team organized and ready to move. I have a few loose ends to tie up"

10:25 AM, Radon Canyon StrexCorp Headquarters. Carlos fidgeted uneasily, tugging at the edge of his bulletproof vest. "God, I hate this thing." he muttered softly, "Too tight, too itchy, too everything."

"I know, sweetie," Rachelle commented, checking the clip of her gun. "But would you prefer a few minutes of sensory hell or another bullet in the chest?"

"At this point, I'll take the bullet." Carlos muttered. "I'll take point. You, Stan, and Bomb-squad Kellye cover me and the rest of the team secures the perimeter. Hold on tactical support until I give the word." Wait, too stiff, add something encouraging and leader-like. "Be careful in there, guys. We don't know what to expect." Perfect. "Right. Let's move."

He held one hand to the gun at his hip, face fixed in a focused frown as he opened the glass doors to the headquarters. "FBI, everyone stay where you are!" Carlos called through the building, announcing their presence.

The rest of the team quickly followed him, their guns drawn and pointed towards the ground, scanning the room for any sort of threats. "Lobby, clear!" Carlos's voice was almost a growl.

"Offices, clear!" another officer's voice sounded from another part of the lower floor.

"Bathrooms, clear!" Rachelle called, "Sheriff, take your team upstairs to check the second and third floors."

"Right," Sheriff Sam replied, gesturing to the rest of their team. "Come on, let's move."

As the team filed up the stairs to check the rest of the building, a frantic tap, tap, tap, tap of high heels on tiled floor caught Carlos's attention. "Sir," a frightened-sounding voice hit Carlos's ear. "You can't be in here."

"I can, and I am." Carlos showed her a piece of paper detailing the warrant. "We have reason to believe this facility, and everyone in it may be in danger." he kept vigilant, scanning the room for anything wrong. "Miss, what is your name?"

"Vanessa, Vanessa Oriole." she replied, pushing her square glasses up on the bridge of her nose with one finger.

"Ms. Oriole," Carlos's tone was brisk. "I need to speak with your boss, is she here?"

"Ms. Mallard is in a meeting, th-there's been some complications in our security system she needed to address." She spoke in a practiced tone, almost trembling, "Sir, please, I can't allow you to interrupt, I'll lose my job."

"I'll be sure to not mention you, Ms. Oriole," Carlos assured her. "But this is urgent. There could be lives on the line here, Vanessa."

She hesitated for a moment, looking down at the ground. "Conference room, second floor." she said softly.

"Thank you," Carlos told her softly, then looked up at Rachelle. "Anything?"

"Ground floor is clear," she said, returning her gun to her holster. "But I just got word from the Sheriff upstairs. Apparently there's a locked vault with a timer, and it's counting down."

"Damn it," Carlos felt his heart pounding. "How much time is left?"

"Three minutes, twenty seconds." Rachelle replied, a finger to her earpiece.

"Alright, we work on evacuating the building. Bomb Squad is already on the scene?"

"Yes, but they're not making a dent in it. It's protected by reinforced steel, and it'd take hours to cut through."

Carlos fought his mind to stay on the immediate task, twirling his ring on his left hand. "Great," he muttered. "Get everyone out. Now."

Rachelle started to move, but paused, a confused look on her face. "Wait a minute." she said, "Carlos, it's not a bomb."

"What're you talking about, not a bomb?" Carlos half-demanded.

"Just what I said," Rachelle replied, "Not a bomb. It's just the timer. It's a timed lock!"

"And there's nothing behind the wall," Carlos asked, "No explosives, no gasses, anything?"

"Nothing that we can tell." she shook her head, then drew in a breath. "Boss, the timer just reached zero."

Carlos held his breath, waiting for something to happen. He turned the volume up on his earpiece. "Agent Ramon," Carlos exhaled a sigh of relief at the voice of Sheriff Sam in his earpiece. "You're going to want to see this."

The federal agent glanced over to Rachelle, nodding briskly and walking to the stairs. They reached the second floor, and the conference room almost immediately after. "You do not have authorization to be in here," a female voice was more of a snarl. "I could sue you for this, Sheriff Sam!"

Carlos swallowed. So this was the Mighty Duck herself, the one and only Lauren Mallard. He was grateful Nils had thought to fill them in on some of the major players in StrexCorp. "Actually, yes, they do have authorization to be in here, miss." Carlos made his voice firm and authoritative, again brandishing the search warrant. "Special Agent Ramon, FBI. You must be Ms. Lauren Mallard."

"Yes, I am." she spoke through gritted teeth. "You should not even be here. There were never any calls to your office, and there wasn't any kind of report filed about the break-in, so there's-"

"So there was a break in last night, then?" Carlos cut her off. "Because we do have reason to believe this building is in some way connected to a federal investigation. And withholding information from me is a federal crime."

The Vice President gave a huff, looking beet red in the face out of anger. "Agent Ramon," Carlos felt his skin crawl at that too-sweet voice of Detective Free approaching from behind him. "Let me assure you right now, there is no way you could've acquired that warrant of yours so fast with legal process. You, and all of these men are in here illegally, and if they do not vacate the premises, we-"

"Detective Free," Carlos felt a rush of courage as he turned sharply and locked eyes with the man. "If I were you, I would be very careful what I say about legalities." his voice was warning, and even he was surprised by it. "Given that if you do claim to be a private I, you are operating without a license, as well as have links to several mysteriously and suddenly dropped instances of assault and battery charges all over Night Vale and the Desert Bluffs Metropolitan area."

Kevin stood there with his mouth slightly open, trying to formulate words and failing. Carlos gave him a small smile, and a brisk nod of his head, then turned back towards where Sheriff Sam stood with their team filing in and out of the small room. "So, what is it I needed to see, Sheriff?"

"Well, see for yourself, Agent Ramon." they gestured towards the open door.

Carlos looked through the doorway. Inside the room there was a wide spread of newspaper clippings and documents. Upon closer examination, Carlos realized the significance of the documents. "These are records of shipments!" Carlos said, "records of shipments coming in and out, buyer contact information… It's as if he gave us Strex's own little black book!"

The agent practically vibrated in excitement. It was everything in him not to flap his arms excitedly, elated that he had such a break in this case. If he didn't know any better he would say he'd been delivered a box of chocolates! His mind raced, trying to put aside the thrilling thoughts aside for the moment and decide where to start first. He felt his hands shaking at his sides, balled into tight fists. His eyes rested on a stack of documents, with a USB drive on top. He quickly went to it, almost forgetting to pull on vinyl gloves before picking up the drive. He dropped it into a plastic bag and almost threw it at the officer behind him. "Make sure that gets to Niljana, right away!" He said, beginning to sift through the documents.

His eyes scanned the small print of the documents, eyebrows raising in shock. "I'll be damned," Carlos muttered, "These are the certificates of authenticity to all of the stolen artifacts from the museums."

His finger followed his eyes, searching for the titleholders' names on a couple of the papers. "All of these are still under their original owners." he observed, then found more documents. "And on the deeds to the museums… these are still under the original owners as well. These properties were acquired illegally."

He glanced back to where Sheriff Sam and Lauren Mallard stood. "Ms. Lauren Mallard, you have the right to remain silent."

3:34 PM, Moonlite All Night Diner. Carlos took a sip from his coffee cup, using the pen in his other hand to scrawl a few hasty words on his report. The diner was much quieter than the last time he'd been there, and it made his work much easier. The gentle sound of footsteps hit his ear. He glanced up, and offered a small smile. "Afternoon," Carlos greeted, "Have a seat, ."

Cecil smiled back stiffly, holding his long, tan tunic in place as he slipped into the booth. "Good afternoon, Agent Ramon," Cecil's voice had a touch of apprehension. "So, I suppose it's my turn to hold to our bargain," he glanced down at the table. "Would it be too bold of me to ask to have one last cup of coffee as a free man?"

"Well, that depends," Carlos closed the folder on his reports, pushing the manilla envelope aside and putting his pen back behind his ear. "Is it really stealing if the stolen items were never theirs to begin with?"

Cecil cocked his head, eyebrows furrowed. "You… didn't call me here to arrest me?" he asked, confusion in his voice.

Carlos smirked and shook his head. "I never did find out who the Voice of Night Vale was," he tried to give his voice the transatlantic accent popular in old films. "And I don't think I ever will. All I'll ever know for certain is that in stealing those museums, somehow at the same time he stole my heart away."

Cecil laughed quietly as the waitress returned to the table, pouring black coffee into each of the cups. "So I see, detective." his voice was almost a purr as he spoke, then returned to regular speaking voice, "well, for what it's worth, I'm grateful."

"Of course, Cecil." Carlos shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "Besides. When we tried to pursue the case with the original owners, none of them were interested in pursuing the case, or even trying to collect the insurance on the artifacts. The case was thrown out before someone could say 'Big Rico's Pizza'." he took a sip of coffee and gestured vaguely with his other hand and made an "Mmm!" noise of recollection. "Which reminds me, there's another reason I asked you here today."

"Oh?" Cecil took a sip from his coffee, neatly trimmed, light purple fingernails drumming the edge of his cup quietly.

"Yes," Carlos said, taking a second manilla folder from his messenger bag. "I thought you of all people would want to know about what happened with StrexCorp."

Cecil's eyes widened, and his posture seemed to straighten instinctively. Carlos opened up the manilla envelope, shuffling pages. "For starters," he started, "You were right about the drug ring. My old friends over at Organized Crime had been tracking shipments of a new drug, Solarian, known on the street as 'Smiling God'. Sure enough, all those shipments that didn't quite add up, materials that didn't match output, the money seeming to come from nowhere- all of it pointed back to the Smiling God shipments Organized Crime had been tracking. Everybody working at StrexCorp is being questioned as we speak."

Cecil watched in intrigue, taking another sip from his coffee. "And what's more," Carlos spoke with fervor and excitement in his voice, "The documents for the museums that were 'lost in a fire' were falsified, if they ever even existed at all. Lauren Mallard was arrested for criminal conspiracy, as well as the drug charges, and 'Detective' Free was arrested on several counts of assault, as well as unlawful contracting and operating without a license. You know this already, but all of the titles to the artifacts and the deeds to the museums were returned to their original owners." he shuffled more papers around, picking one up from the pile. "Actually, every business that was forcibly taken over by StrexCorp has been returned to their original owners. Which reminds me..." he pushed the paper towards Cecil. "This belongs to you."

Cecil adjusted his glasses, blinking once and gazing down at the paper. "Carlos…" his voice was quiet. "Is this…?"

"Yes." Carlos nodded. "This's the deed to the Community Radio station. You were partial owner, and since we can't seem to find your original station management, the deed defaults to you." Carlos smiled. "If you really wanted to, you could go back to being the community radio host."

Cecil looked up at Carlos with tears in his eyes. "Carlos," Cecil's voice was soft, "Oh my god, this… I don't know what to say…"

"Then don't say anything." Carlos shook his head, "All I did was return what belongs to you."

Cecil swiped at his eyes, clearing the tears from his eyes. After a few moments, he glanced up at Carlos. "What about you?" he asked, "what will youdo now?"

"Me?" Carlos twirled his ring, thoughtfully. "I'm not sure, honestly."

He bit his bottom lip gently in thought. "I'm sure my bosses upstairs will want me to stick around here for some time, and help clean up the fallout from this StrexCorp business." he said matter-of-factly, "After that, I really don't know. Waiting around for the next assignment, I suppose. I may try finishing that bachelor's in science."

"Sooo," Cecil looked up at him demurely from over the rims of his glasses. "I guess this means you may be here for some time, then."

"Most likely, yes." Carlos closed the folder, twirling his ring again. "So, I suppose I'll probably have to move from LA, find an apartment here."

"Oh," Cecil glanced down, picking at a spot on the table. "Maybe will you need some help with moving?"

"No," Carlos replied quickly, eyes angled towards the ceiling in thought, more focused on how he would need to organize and pack things to move than the conversation at hand. "I'm an FBI agent… and an FBI agent is self reliant, above all."

"Oh," Cecil said softer, sadder, this time.

Crap, he's sad, say something nice too! "But, um," Carlos started, twirling his ring, "But… sometimes, help is good too." he said softly, "Very good, even."

For several moments, it was very quiet. Only the ambient noise of quiet background diner noise was heard. Cecil swallowed, and his adams apple jiggled slightly. "Carlos," he said softly. "I want… Can we…" he took a deep breath. "Do you think… is it possible to maybe… start over?"

Carlos bit his lip, staring down at the table. "It's… I'll be honest, Cecil, there's a lot to move on from." he said honestly. "I'm still angry that you drugged me."

Cecil's aura seemed to withdraw, making the man across from Carlos seem very small. "But," Carlos added, "I suppose I understand why you did it. And I doubt I would've done different were we in reverse positions."

Carlos uncurled his fist, extending his hand across the table. "Hi," he spoke, a small smile over his face. "I'm Carlos. I'm a scientist, and I'm here to study your strange town."

Cecil smiled, making Carlos's heart skip a beat, and took Carlos's hand to shake gently. "Hi," he said in reply. "I'm Cecil. I'm the local community radio host." Cecil's smile turned mysterious, and his voice dropped down an octave. "Welcome to Night Vale."

Thanks to everyone that was along for the ride. Especially thank you to Umbrie and Wearestarstuff618 (both on tumblr) for encouraging me and giving me AU ideas XD