Apologies in advance for the long chapter. There wasn't a part I felt comfortable breaking it up with...so...it's double the fun?

Chapter Five

The road cut through the very same cornfield Charlie and Meyer had come, the cornstalks growing high over their heads, though Margaret knew both her and Mr. Rothstein were neither one very tall.

Teddy and Harry wandered ahead, hand in hand and Margaret began to wonder about her sons. Were they real? As in her and Mr. Rothstein, as in Charlie and Meyer? Or were they wandering spectres of her memory like she hoped Hans was?

If that were the case, however, wouldn't Emily be there with them?

This place was so frustratingly confusing. It was beautiful and perfect, but it was madness.

If there was an end, then this place wasn't really the afterlife. If there was an end, then this place was a sort of 'in-between' a stopping point.

And still the questions tormented her. Why Mr. Rothstein? All the memories of him she had thus far equated to him being an acquaintance, a business partner at best.

He had to have been here long before her. His death, to her recollection had occurred in 1928, but she had lived on for a good many years, fifty-seven to be exact.

But time didn't move the same way here, she figured. Perhaps he didn't notice it passing?

Teddy had said something about him being alone. Was that here? Was he lonesome here before she arrived?

The man would never say. She got the feeling he was a vault. Silent as the grave.

Could he have been concealing something from her? A memory perhaps? One that spoke of their relationship or something about her?

Beside her the man was quiet, eyeing the surrounding cornstalks cautiously with a still and unemotional facade.

She supposed he was the epitome of the term 'poker face', for he never revealed too much. Was he as confused as her? Did he know about this place? Or was he just trying to gather it all together into a semblance of sanity like her?

Death was far more puzzling than she thought it would be.

Of course, she assumed it was a literal pearly gate with St. Peter waiting there to admit her into the wonder of heaven.

…or drop her into the fiery pits of hell, of course.

What if they were still to come?

Oh Lord, what if hell awaited her at the end?

What if heaven did?

From within the cornstalks as they walked a sound wafted on the breeze and Margaret actually had to pause to strain to hear it.

"What's that smell like fish, mama? Food, if you really wants to know." Someone sang off-key.

She glanced over at Mr. Rothstein who had also stopped and was listening.

"What's that smells like fish, baby? Food, if you really wants to know."

As her companion slowly started off in a direction, she followed, keeping behind him, allowing him to lead the way.

"Smell like sardines and it ain't in no can. Same doggone thing you chucked at the other man."

They parted a couple of large stalks of corn and found at their feet a young man, tied up and kneeling.

"What that smell like fish, mama? Food, if you really wants to know, I mean, Food, if you really want to know," he warbled, before noticing them and reeling back.

"Benny," Mr. Rothstein greeted coolly.

"Shit," the young man exclaimed. "AR!"

Margaret covered her son's ears, pulling both boys to her worriedly.

Arnold Rothstein inhaled deeply and drew himself to the fullest height he could. "Language, Benny."

"Oh yeah, no sorry," the young man smiled at Margaret. "I thought when you came skulking through the corn that you were Charlie or Meyer."

Mr. Rothstein smiled his plastic, placating smile. "Leave you here, did they?"

"Ah well, you know," Benny shrugged. "I'm surrounded by corn, so…" he trailed off, brows lowering as though he finally came to the conclusion. "They aren't coming back for me…"

"Odds would say no."

"Those fuckers!" Benny spat.

Margaret hurried to cover her sons' ears again.

"Can't trust a queer," Benny muttered angrily.

"Well," Margaret's travelling companion said. "We must be moving along, I suspect."

Struggling to his feet, Benny held out his bound hands imploringly to Mr. Rothstein, hopping a little on his bound feet, squirming and wriggling like a caterpillar trying to stand on a rose blossom. "Come on, AR. For old time's sake?"

The man eyed the rope that bound Benny's wrists with something akin to distaste, before tucking his hands behind his back. "I find it's unwise to invest myself in another man's business without some kind of reassurance of compensation should the investment fall through."

"What?" Benny demanded.

"Am I speaking Dutch suddenly?" Mr. Rothstein inquired in his soft, calm manner. "Miss Rohan?"

Feeling the need to help out, Margaret released her sons and stepped towards Benny. "Here," she said. "I'll help you loose."

"I may kiss you," Benny exhaled. Suddenly his head tilted and he asked, "aren't you Nucky Thompson's wife?"

She struggled with his bonds. "I am. Or…I was, rather."

"I thought so. You sure look like it," he remarked. "Of course I only saw you from really far away." Leaning in close to her, he whispered. "Whatcha got going on with the Bankroll?"

She felt her cheeks burn. "Nothing at all."

"Well," he went on loudly once more. "I'd keep you secret too. An artwork such as yourself shouldn't be open to the public for viewing."

Unsure if that was filthy or not, she cast a panicked look at Mr. Rothstein who had his head bent to his little notebook. He seemed to be scratching something into it with a stubby pencil.

"Benny," he warned distractedly without looking up or breaking his pace.

Releasing the man's wrists from the ropes, she stepped back with a small grin.

"Thanks," Benny returned, rubbing his wrists. "You're a real doll."

"Perhaps next time, Benny, you'll use your wits for something other than peacocking for the opposite sex?" Mr. Rothstein suggested.

"Hey," Benny objected, stooping to struggle with the ropes at his ankles. "Those two cornered me and Meyer sat on my chest while Charlie strung me up. It wasn't like I just sat down and let them wrap me up in hemp."

"Jesus, I told you we left him in here," someone said to Margaret's left.

She found Mr. Lansky and Mr. Luciano standing beside one another, both men eyeing Benny with mirth.

"Thanks," Benny growled.

"Hey, be thankful we came back for you," Mr. Luciano said. "I wanted to leave you. AR," the man greeted respectfully as they approached, with a somewhat wary glance at Margaret. "Hello again."

"Charlie, Meyer, I wasn't expecting to cross paths so soon."

Charlie scoffed. "Yeah well, Meyer wanted to find Benny. Saps got a soft spot for his little soft head."

"I was more worried about someone else having to put up with him," Meyer said.

"Aw, papa!" Benny exclaimed, opening his arms and approaching the shorter man.

Meyer scowled as Benny embraced him, his face more pained than angry. Like the boy's overly familiar manners were hurtful to him somehow. "Get off me, Benny. I swear to God."

Hooking his arms around both men's shoulders, Benny said. "So? What now?"

"Benny?" Charlie began, clapping the younger man on the cheek almost affectionately. "Ever wonder why we left you tied up in a cornfield?"

"I just assumed you two were going off into the woods to do some queer shit behind a tree," Benny remarked making a lewd gesture that had Margaret scrambling to cover her boys' eyes.

Charlie smacked him hard, still smiling.

"You'll have to forgive Benny, Miss Rohan," Meyer said. "He's an idiot. We think his father had relations with a goat."

"That's why I'm such a good climber," Benny stated, pocketing his hands. "Kind of reminds me of that poem 'there was a young woman on a boat, who had under one arm a goat—'."

"Benny," Charlie stated firmly.

The scene grew dark and Margaret inhaled sharply as it shifted and they all stood by the side of a beautiful bathtub full of merry bubbles and…Margaret, naked and barely covered by the bubbles.

"Oh no," she breathed.

Every man was still, shocked.

"So, this idiot climbs into the boat," Nucky was saying as he stood at the bathroom sink shaving. "Hides under a pile of netting and the goddamned boat sets off."

Margaret was unsure what she needed to focus on, this new memory or the men around her who were nervously shifting, Benny and Mr. Luciano unabashedly drinking her in, Mr. Lansky pointedly looking at Nucky, hands in his pockets and Mr. Rothstein looking very, very intently at his notebook.

"Oh, please stay in the water," she pleaded with herself softly.

"So now I have to go to Canada, I fucking hate Canada," Nucky went on.

Margaret kept her eyes on herself, gasping as she shifted in the water and one of her breasts popped up above the bubbles.

She wished she were yet living, so she could die again.

Benny knelt down by her in the tub and smiled broadly. "Looks so relaxing."

"Benny," Mr. Rothstein ordered sharply in a tone she had never heard the man.

The young man bounced up with a laugh. "Come on, AR, it's not like we have anywhere else to be and a free show is a free show."

She felt Charlie's eyes on her, looking her up and down subtly and she felt her entire body flush with embarrassment.

"Why are you in the bath?" Nucky demanded, turning from shaving. "It's nine in the morning."

"I'm achy," Margaret said.

The memory became clear to her then, she had gotten sick that week. Violently ill to the point where she was laid up in bed for a few days.

"Well, I won't be back for a week or two, I may stay up there and do a little business," Nucky said, approaching her and stooping to plant a kiss to the top of her head.

He left the room and the memory lingered just long enough for Margaret to panic, thinking she may yet be further embarrassed.

However, the dark world faded from around them.

Benny approached her slowly. "So, Nucky here with you or…?"

"Go," Charlie shoved the younger man into the corn. "Just go that way, we'll catch up."

The six of them listened to the rustling of the cornstalks as Benny wandered off for a moment, before Charlie cleared his throat.

"Sorry about him, AR," he said. "The kid's a nut."

"Hm?" The man muttered, finally lifting his head from his notebook.

"You remember, don't you, AR?" Charlie asked a little curiously, approaching the man warily. "Me and Meyer?"

"Meyer and you," Mr. Rothstein corrected idly. "Yes, of course."

"Everything?" Meyer asked.

The man who was travelling with Margaret levelled his gaze on both men, it was unreadable, as though he were nothing but a mere statue. "Everything, Meyer."

The two younger men exchanged a look, before Charlie said, "well, see you around, AR."

"Odds say you might not." Mr. Rothstein said simply, tucking his book and pencil away, offering Charlie a dry, insincere smile. "Goodbye, boys."

With that the man simply walked off through the corn.

Margaret lingered for a moment, before ushering her sons after the man.

Harry stopped short by Meyer and looked up at him, before reaching out a gooey toddler hand and grasping his pant leg. The man offered the child a dry, perfunctory grin.

Scooping up Harry, Margaret apologized and hurried off after Mr. Rothstein.

They had emerged from the corn, still and silent.

"You understand," he said after a moment of walking, "that you're under no obligation to walk with me, Miss Rohan."

She was quiet, glancing up at the raven overhead who seemed to be a constant, before speaking. "You're right."

They walked on.

If she had said she didn't care what had transpired between Mr. Rothstein and the other men, she would have been sent straight to hell as a liar. The truth was, it seemed to affect the untouchable man.

She didn't know that was a possible. He didn't seem human in some ways, and being affected by things was one of them.

His ivory skin had turned to an aged parchment and he looked sickly as he ambled beside her.

"I suppose we must deal with the dark world, good or bad," she said.

They walked on, still Mr. Rothstein was sullen and quiet.

"Do you remember Nucky and I together?" Margaret asked him, hoping to distract him from what she assumed was some kind of inner turmoil.

"I vaguely recall," he said.

"Was he…was he kind to me?" She went on questioning him.

"I can only say you seemed happy with him, but…you did leave him." He said.

"Yes," she replied, frowning hard, trying to grasp at the wet, oiled up memory that continuously evaded her.

She glanced over at him as they walked and wondered if he was still with her or whether he was still in that world of his own within his head. She wondered too, if he had seen any part of her from the memory of the bath.

There was only a shell of a hardened man who walked beside her as they moved through the woods, down the road, away from Misters Lansky and Luciano.

Mr. Rothstein seemed to have become forged in platinum, a cold, metallic man who moved mechanically and seemed stiff and robotic in his movements.

It seemed the further they drew from the other men, the more her companion became a solid creature, without flesh, without blood.

As they moved through a particularly dense area of woods, she kept her eyes on the man, worried for this change in him.

A memory came then, seeing him look so pale and cold, it reminded her of another time she had seen him so hardened.

"Is there nothing you can do?" She asked.

They stood in a dark room, lit only by a single light.

Margaret was terrified of the vision of Mr. Rothstein in the memory, he looked so unlike himself. Sure, he wore the same dapper suits and hats he always wore, but his face was cold, it was dead, it was hardened.

"Mr. Rothstein?" She whispered in her memory, small, strong hands clutching at his lapels and gently tugging him close. "You must say something."

"This is only a set-back," the man finally said.

It made her physically ill to see such a strong man look so vulnerable as his features shifted and the hard shell broke.

The Arnold Rothstein of her memory became like a small boy then, looking unsure, looking frail.

"You can't always be strong," Margaret whispered. "Let me in. Let me help?"

The man in the memory drew himself together with a deep breath and his solid mask was replaced. "Only a set-back. This happens often in business." He patted her hands and gently removed them from his lapels. "Now, go back to your warm bed. I should…I should go."

"Arnold—"

"Go now, you have work in the morning," he returned softly.

The memory faded suddenly, leaving Margaret and her sons standing beside a cold, hardened man who inhaled sharply and raised his chin.

There were no words that came to her, and even if she could find the words, she had no command of her tongue.

A pair of eyes watched from the woods and only when the figure shifted to their feet, did she notice them.

Benny stood up from where he was sitting comfortably against a tree and approached, standing taller than Rothstein, he stopped beside the man but didn't say a word.

Drawing her sons to her, Margaret began to panic as Mr. Rothstein remained still, worried that he had actually turned to stone.

Finally he levelled his chin and sniffed. "Benny?"

"Yeah?"

"What is that building over there?"

The young man frowned. "It's nothing."

Margaret glanced around and had to look hard before she spied it, almost hiding coyly behind the dense woods, peeking out just at the end of the road they were on.

Mr. Rothstein levelled the boy with a simple, calm look and Benny shifted uncomfortably under the gaze.

"Just ignore it, it's nothing," Benny insisted.

The older man blinked and remained passive.

"It's just this thing…just…it follows me around, alright?"

Mr. Rothstein tilted his head back a little.

"Look, it was after you kicked it, you know…just...it's just a thing."

"Looks like a…hotel?" Margaret supplied.

Benny smiled. "It is, thank you!" He ground out from between clenched teeth.

"And it…follows you around, Benny?" Arnold asked.

"It…" the man laughed. "Sure. Yeah."

"Like…Mr. Rothstein and myself go together or…Mister's Luciano and Lansky?" Margaret inquired.

"Okay, yeah! Sure, whatever! Look, let's just ignore it, okay? It's there, it'll always be there, just…let it exist over there." Benny pocketed his hands and scuffed the road with his shoe.

"You aren't even looking at it," the older man pointed.

"I don't need to," Benny insisted. "It's there."

They had fallen silent again, Mr. Rothstein deep in thought, Benny scuffing the dirt with his shoe and Margaret trying hard to figure out how it was she knew this young man. Or did she? He looked familiar.

Mr. Rothstein sniffed and looked down the road with sharp, studious eyes.

Scooping up Harry, Margaret then moved in closer to him, trying to see what it was he saw beyond the building.

But it wasn't the building he saw. His eyes weren't focused on anything.

"No."

Margaret and Benny exchanged looks at the single word uttered by Arnold Rothstein.

"No?" Margaret asked.

"I'm not going any further. There's no point."

She frowned. "But…the end?"

"No." He repeated simply.

Again Margaret and Benny looked at each other as Mr. Rothstein continued to gaze at the horizon.

"We have to keep on," she said.

"No we don't." He stated. "I'm not partaking in this farce any longer. I'm staying here."

"And doing what?" She inquired.

"I'll build New York up with my bare hands if I have to, get out of nature and back into the concrete world man was made to rule over." He said.

"Build New York?" Benny demanded.

"Someone has to," Mr. Rothstein said. "Unless you enjoy wandering corn fields forever?"

Benny shrugged. "Keeps that fucking hotel out of sight."

"Get Charlie and Meyer, Benny, I think it's time we all had a good talk," the man said.

Benny opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Mr. Rothstein gave him a simple, pointed look and the younger man slunk off.

Margaret was quiet, standing beside the man, holding her son.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" she asked.

Turning to face her, he was quiet, eyes taking her in, flickering to the children with her, before he reached out and touched his gloved hand just under her chin. It was a light touch, his fingertips barely grazed her flesh.

Then he dropped his hand and smiled.

"You don't have to remain with me, Miss Rohan. I don't expect you to," was all he said, before he turned his eyes back on the road that lay before them.

She stood beside him quietly.

"I don't think I can leave you." She said, it wasn't sentimental, but factual.

Damn the man for his unreadable features, for his stoic, expressionless manners, because at that moment, standing beside him, Margaret felt so left behind.

"I apologize then," he admitted finally. "If I cause you distress over this decision."

She waited, urging the powers that be to just reveal something about why she was with Mr. Rothstein. Why it was she felt so compelled to remain with him, even though the thought of never moving forward made her stomach churn.

"Do you recall the song you sang for your children?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"I had a memory before you arrived, of the other world, but…I was waiting, sitting down, it was quiet, save for that song."

Margaret was quiet.

But that seemed to be all the mysterious man was willing to part with as he glanced down at the road beneath their feet.

"If you remember that song," she said finally. "Then we must have been close, I can't recall ever singing for anyone who wasn't family."

Mr. Rothstein looked over and up at her then and it startled her, his eyes were soft and suddenly open and she felt that if she stared back at him long enough she would understand everything about him, that she could peer inside him.

"You want us, you don't," Charlie broke them up with his coarse velvet voice. "I'm beginning to feel like a goddamn yo-yo. What is it, AR?"

Mr. Rothstein blinked and looked away from Margaret, that mask he used to keep people away was already in place, a plastic grin worn on it. "There's nothing at the end of this road worthwhile, is there?"

"That road, this road, don't matter."

The older man ran his tongue across his back teeth in thought, the habit quirking a memory in Margaret's mind of him doing that often.

"I hate nature," he said finally.

"So?" Charlie demanded.

"So, we don't go any further."

Meyer and Charlie exchanged a look.

"AR's gonna build New York from twigs and leaves and shit," Benny stated.

"No, you dumb jerk," Charlie snarled. "AR's cooking something up."

Mr. Rothstein smiled broader. "We stay where we are."

"And?" Charlie demanded. "What? Become King's of the Corn? Jesus, I thought you had a-"

"Whatever we needed was always just over the horizon or through the woods," Meyer broke in, catching on quicker.

"We don't go any further," Mr. Rothstein stated. "I can't take anymore trees and rocks and dirt."

"We need a city," Meyer pointed out, sharing a grin with his mentor.

Mr. Luciano inhaled deeply from his cigarette, clearly mulling this over. "Alright," he said with a puff of smoke. "So we get ourselves a city. Then what?"

"You enjoyed the wandering?" Meyer asked him.

"We're gonna stir some shit, ain't we?" Benny demanded with a broad grin.

"There's no point reaching the end, boys," Mr. Rothstein said, clapping Meyer on the shoulder. "If there's no guarantee what's beyond it. This place is good enough."

Overhead Margaret heard the raven shriek almost disapprovingly and held her toddler son closer to her chest as a cold, unsettling feeling flooded her gut.

"We have to keep going," she said, that fear of not continuing returning to her.

"Why?" Mr. Rothstein inquired politely. "We could have it all here."

"It…seems unnatural," she said.

He smiled reassuringly at her and again touched her just under her chin. "If they wanted us at the end, they would have put us there. We have freewill here, we can do whatever we want. It's a blank slate, Miss Rohan. You can go on, if you want."

That still felt unnatural to her. It was almost as though they were meant to go on together. She felt as though, if she went on, she would only end up back with him.

So, she did what she felt she had done many times before. She kept quiet and accepted her fate.

"New York," Charlie murmured almost reverently.

"New York," Mr. Rothstein agreed.

"New fucking York!" Benny exclaimed with a whoop.

Only Meyer remained quiet, his eyes meeting Margaret's, before his pocketed his hands and shifted on his feet.

"We'll get some parlours going," Charlie said. "Free flowing booze, whores, jazz, dice. Who's gonna stop us this time?"

"We'll be Kings, boys," Mr. Rothstein returned, motioning them back towards the cornfield. "And what could be better?"

"We'll turn that piece of shit field into a majestic city skyline," Charlie agreed.

As the men stared at the potential of the forest to their left, Margaret clutched her boys to her nervously.

"Did you boys know about Benny's hotel?" Mr. Rothstein asked after a moment.

"That piece of shit is a casino too," Charlie exclaimed. "Did you fucking see it?"

"Okay, it's not that bad," Benny growled. "I poured a lot into that place…"

Margaret remained behind for a moment with Mr. Lansky, the two of them quiet. She sensed something about the man, something he was withholding. Not from her, but…there was a melancholy in his eyes as he watched Benny excitedly gaze at the field that pained even her.

Overhead the raven shrieked again, breaking her study of his sorrowful look and she glanced up at the sky.

"Let them have their fun," Mr. Lansky said softly. "They'll get bored eventually."

She nodded.

"It'll be okay, Miss Rohan," he added, offering her his arm.

She took it with her free hand, setting Harry down to toddle along beside her with his brother. They fell in behind the others, heading back for the cornfield.

Margaret took one last, worried look at the road, before resigning herself to whatever happened.