"We found her up on Python Pass, at the bottom of a ravine."

Charlotte was fazed, and she absolutely hated being fazed. Hell, she hated the word "fazed", it was so trite. But Theresa's sudden death was not only a blow to corporate structure, but a rude wake-up call—Robert Ford knew exactly what she had been orchestrating; he had seen right through her ruse. And it seemed like he didn't care if she saw through his.

"It seems QA's demonstration was a hoax, designed by Ms. Cullen…I examined the code, it had been altered—a clumsy set of fingerprints left by one of QA's technicians. When you find the cancer in an organization, you must cut it out before it can spread."

Theresa was pragmatic and resourceful, there was no way in hell she went wandering around the park in the middle of the night to climb a mountain and transfer the data that way. They had plans to reconvene after their demonstration with Clementine to discuss next steps; Theresa wouldn't have just decided to try this without warning.

And while Charlotte didn't particularly like Theresa, she respected her and the work she did for Delos. The company was now in a precarious position, one that only a rarefied few were aware of. It was crucial to get the host data out of the park, quickly and quietly, before another one of her colleagues ended up in a freak "accident". Or worse, Ford smashed his toys and went home before decades of work could be backed up on an external server.

Charlotte wasn't necessarily surprised that Ford was not planning to go down without some sort of fight, and quite frankly, a part of her was impressed at his orchestration of mind-games. Unfortunately for him, she wouldn't have to play for long; the board members were set to arrive, and she had a back up plan already formulated. The threat he posed to the company would be neutralized in a day or so.

"Theresa's dead."

Dale sighed on the other end of the line. "So I've heard—while trying to smuggle data out of the park. I will say, this is a bit sloppy for you, Ms. Hale."

"Except it wasn't me. Obviously." Charlotte rolled her eyes, happy to not have her camera on during the call; she knew most of the men at Delos underestimated her, but she hadn't expected it from Dale. "This was a fucking tit-for-tat from Ford. He saw right through our host demonstration and didn't appreciate my termination of Bernard. Of course, that doesn't surprise me."

"And Bernard has already been reinstated," he responded, his tone flat.

"Ford is also automating all the security in the park for the gala—a concession I'm none-too-pleased with, but he had me by the balls in front of QA." The situation had caught her off-guard, but she was sure Ford intended it that way. It forced her to concede, being flat-footed without any possible solutions to offer instead.

"You honestly think he would pull something? To what end?"

"Who the fuck knows. His ego has been running this part for years, who knows what he's capable of now that his reign is threatened. The sooner we can oust him, the sooner we can limit his power," she snapped, stalking over to the minibar in her room and ransacking the tiny bottles of whiskey. Who needed to bother with a glass and ice on a day like fucking today?

"But as of right now, all of Delos' proprietary data, all the years of research, are in jeopardy, perhaps more so than they ever have been since you decided to hold Ford's feet to the fire with this host demonstration," Dale commented.

Charlotte did not miss the slight, however, or the insinuation that this shitstorm was somehow her fault. How quickly these corporate darlings swung from ass-kissing to throat-slitting.

"We all agreed it was a strategic maneuver to get the board members as well as the QA team into agreement with how to handle the hosts moving forward. I simply—"

Dale cut her off then, "You failed to mention that it would be so ham-handed that Ford would instantly notice the interference in the host's code. I thought your coders could handle the job."

She downed one of the little whiskey bottles and took a moment to cool her head before responding. How dare he question her judgment? Leaning on the black granite countertop, the alcohol burned warmly down in her chest and acted as a perfect distraction."I had hoped Bernard would out Ford as the cause of the host malfunctions, then it wouldn't have mattered what he saw or didn't see with the coding. But that loyal peon just had to take the fall, leaving Ford a window to royally fuck us before the vote."

"The board members have already begun to arrive, the board meeting is in two days. Do you have a plan?"

"Of course I do, do you? " Charlotte shot back. It had not gotten past her that he had not updated her on Isabella Moore since their last conversation.

"Len is returning topside later today from a short hunting trip," Dale began. "I plan to check in with him, but I still think the wisest course of action is to just let her vote…assuming we have William's vote. I have tried to contact him multiple times since his arrival, but he hasn't responded."

Ah, yes, because Leonard had proven to be such an ace in the hole thus far. "He's not responded to any of my calls either. He's lost in his own little fantasy world, has been for weeks. I know you think he holds some allegiance to Ford, but I don't see him as an obstacle. He knows that Ford's usefulness to this company has long passed, and as long as we stay out of his way, he'll stay out of ours."

"You sure about that?"

"I guarantee it." she replied. Unfortunately for Charlotte, she knew that there was only one way to backup that assurance; she would have to hunt William down in the park herself. Ugh.

"Then let's not get the bad press. Lawyers are like sharks, if she gets one whiff of coercion, she'll be on our asses in a second—which will be worse for us long term than one board vote that we already know is a sure thing."

Oh, so she was the failure when he couldn't even handle selling a 120-pound woman on the idea that murderous robots should be stopped? "Have Leonard try once more. She was rattled when I spoke to her on the Mesa. I think her cool exterior may have more cracks than we know yet."

"Of course. But if it doesn't work then I still think…"

Down went the second little bottle, and a smirk spread easily over her lips. "Like I said last time you brought this up, it begins and ends with a vote."

"I guarantee it."

Izzy realized that she had been holding her breath; it was a bad habit she picked up as a freshman lawyer that stuck with her. It was like deep down, she attempted to suspend time and stave off potential failure simply by hanging onto the same oxygen she had before the verdict was passed.

Hector had not spoken since he read a line in his book: "...You should put your eyes upon yourself, that is, you should know yourself, which is the most difficult knowledge of all."

He believed he was led to that page, that sentence, of Don Quixote, but now, as the seconds passed, his lack of movement was becoming increasingly alarming. It was only after preparing her heart for the worst that Izzy forced herself to break the stillness and touch his leather-clad forearm. But as she did, he took a deep breath.

When he gazed back up at her, she was no longer looking into the eyes of a stranger.

"Izzy," Hector breathed, his shoulders sagging with relief as he came back to life. His joy seemed short-lived however, as his eyes went wide with confusion as soon as their situation seemed to sink in. "¿Qué pasó?"

She could practically see his mind grasping for answers as to how they ended up here. What was the last thing he remembered? Did it feel as if he had just blinked, one moment at the agave plantation and now at the Sweetwater camp?

Izzy pushed those thoughts to the side and threw her arms around his neck, relishing the precious relief that flowed through her. For the moment, she wanted nothing more than to be close to him. In response, Hector laughed, dropping the thick book and returning her embrace with equal ferocity. There he was, smelling like nature and leather, warm and alive, pressed against her, holding her just the way he did. He had come back to her, it had been worth returning to the park.

But how did she begin to explain what had gone on? Unlike the last time, when he had sought her out in Fuego Amoroso, she was now the one thrusting herself and her confounding nature into his narrative. He had chosen to follow the chaos, this time she had chosen for him.

Reluctantly, Izzy pulled away, just enough to gaze up at him, her fingers linking together behind his neck. He seemed similarly disinclined to let her go, his warm hands smoothing over her waist before wrapping around her lower back again to keep her from moving too far.

They were a literal lifetime away from the racetrack's livery stable and the dire circumstances that necessitated their cooperation. How was she supposed to explain that he led them through a cave and to his hometown—one that was supposed to be hundreds of miles away? That he had just collapsed?

Did she even want him to remember that? The thought hadn't occurred to her until now. Izzy had been so excited when he recalled their first meeting that she hadn't considered if she should be. Hector had vividly remembered a horrible, violent death outside the Mariposa— who was to say that he wouldn't start to remember others as well? What if he had no control over which memories began to plague him?

Her blood ran cold.

Charlotte's words to her at the Mesa bar echoed painfully: "I share some of your concerns regarding the hosts…I would never want our park to be housing thousands of non-human slaves. The only civilized thing to do is to roll them back enough so that they have none of the cognitive abilities that are leading to these dangerous improvisations. Keep them safe and keep the guests safe…it is the only humane alternative for the hosts."

Her expression must have betrayed her turmoil, because Hector's eyes darkened with concern as they searched her face. "Izzy, dímelo. What is happening?"

Looking at him, her hands fell from his neck as her stomach tightened into a painful knot. Was all of this horribly selfish? In her effort to gather information on host sentience, was she simply dooming the one she cared for to relive his own murders? To live aware of his own pre-planned demise?

He sensed her emotional retreat and resisted her attempt to break free from him, taking her face in his hands and tilting her face back up to his so she had to meet his eyes. Her beautiful Hector, whose gaze was so warm and eager to understand her. Even if she was able to formulate litigation using common law, it could be years before he was freed. He could die a hundred more times before then, if he wasn't simply destroyed by Delos and swept under a rug.

"I shouldn't have come back." The words fell easily from her lips and broke her heart as she stared up at him. He didn't falter as he stroked her face comfortingly.

"Did something happen?"

"You happened." There was no point in lying, was there? This was going to be the last loop they would see each other before her trip was over. "You …you aren't supposed to remember me, to see the things I do, to notice idiosyncrasies…"

He gave her a wistful smile and placed the pad of his thumb in the middle of her forehead, exactly where she had been shot by John Singleton Moseby. Izzy didn't miss the irony of him being the one to try to inject lightheartedness into their serious situation.

"The natives believed that it was a blessing to see the Shades—"

"But what if it isn't?! What if it's a curse? What if I've accidentally cursed you to endless suffering?" she snapped, unable to keep the lick of panic from bleeding into her tone. Again, she tried to step back from him, hoping to calm down and organize her racing thoughts.

Instead, he pulled her back to him with gentle insistence. Gone was the confused, wide-eyed Hector who was struggling to grasp where he was or how he got there. He looked at her with stone-faced certainty.

"I believe it was a blessing. You think me to be this fragile thing, Izzy. I may not be bullet-proof, but I do know that this world is madness. Gods, men, everything will end badly, no one will be saved, not even myself. But in that madness, you brought me a light. Eres una luz, y soy mejor por conocerte. "

Oh fuck her. How was she supposed to make any sort of rational argument against that? Against him and the effect he had on her? Keeping her voice even required the words to come out as a whisper: "Cómo puedes saber eso con tanta certeza?"

He answered her question with one of his own, one she couldn't fault him for.

"¿Izzy, qué pasó? ¿Estás en algún tipo de peligro?"

With a deep breath, she used every ounce of lawyer in her to get herself together. "I am afraid I made a terrible mistake, Hector. I think I put you in danger."

"I am always in danger, one of the perils of my career path. And unlike those other perils, I chose this one myself."

He gave her one of the boyish smiles that proved he was far from his scripted, desperado persona, but Izzy couldn't shake her newfound concern.

"How do you know that? How do you know that you made this choice of your own free will?"

At that, he stepped around her and crouched down in front of the big wooden trunk. Removing a brass key from his belt, he freed the lock to rummage around the trunk's contents, eventually producing a small trinket box. "When we moved camp back to the Sweetwater hills, I found something curious in one of my belt compartments. For whatever reason, I could not bring myself to get rid of it and instead put it in here for safe-keeping."

Izzy closed her eyes as a grin bloomed over face, knowing exactly what he was talking about. "My necklace."

He returned her smile, dangling the silver key before her by the chain. "When I found this key the first time, it brought back a flood of memories of a ghost, a woman I had never met before yet seemed to know so much about me. I chose to chase that ghost to Fuego Amoroso because I could not simply attribute these memories to the...oscuridad de la vida. I wanted to find you, to know that you were real."

There was never going to be a more clear assurance of his true consent than that—not now, not here in the park, and his heartfelt declaration touched her profoundly. Without waiting for a response, Hector placed the key in her palm, closing her fingers around it and squeezing her fist in his hand. There was no going back, no use pretending like she could come away from this unscathed, and her eyes only flickered down to his mouth once before he crushed his lips to hers.

Her hands weaved themselves into his hair, and she simply gave way to the onslaught, as if she wasn't as on fire for him as he was for her. It wasn't the prettiest kiss, not like the one they had shared in Pariah—where they had been seeking the other's approval and testing boundaries. This, to Izzy, felt like coming home. And she kissed him hard, almost as if the connection was more important than the act itself. It was their connection, that spanned lifetimes and QA checks, and days that mattered. To be held by him, so close, was almost more than she could bear.

"I need a lot of paper."

Barely breaking contact, he rested his forehead to hers, nodding decisively, and Izzy knew he must have remembered their time at the agave plantation. Writing down her explanations wouldn't stop Delos from finding out about their discussion, she assumed his memory could be accessed and the information drawn out that way, but it would buy time and not raise any immediate red flags if someone was listening in. Besides, if Hector was still on lockdown from Behavior, it was possible the entire thing would pass unnoticed, especially since it seemed there was no love lost between Quality and Behavior.

Either way, they had to try.

Len tried to relax as he leaned back in the cushioned barber's chair, focusing vainly on the steaming towel pressed to his face. His sixth sense, the one that told him when his father was near, threatened his mood however, and when he heard footsteps approaching his seat, he didn't need to be told who it was. At the intrusion, his barber paused in his preparations over at the sink.

"No, Ernesto, just keep going, don't worry about him," Len mumbled. The faucet turned back on, and he could hear the brushing sounds of Ernesto preparing lather for the nexr step.

"Could you pencil me in next, Ernesto? We should be getting final copies of the meeting agenda tomorrow. Charlotte must have gone ahead and approved them."

Len sighed, refusing to remove the nice warm towel from his face; it acted as a physical and psychological barrier between them and gave him the confidence to match whateve battle of wits his father had just begun. "I can hardly wait."

Ernesto made his way back over to the chair and removed the towel, applying instead a pre-shave lotion with swift circular motions over his jaw and neck. Everything the barber did was with precision and care that spoke to his decades in the industry. No wonder Delos hired him away from his swanky LA shop.

"This mopy heartbreak routine really doesn't suit you, Leonard."

Already dropping the pleasantries. His father was too long out of the day-to-day of the business world, he didn't even know how to fake nice anymore. "This friendly small-talking father routine doesn't suit you either, dad."

To his father's credit, his immediate response was a rich and sincere-sounding chuckle. "Alright, alright, I won't insult your intelligence. I just saw you were back topside and wanted to see how your trip went."

The pre-shave massage completed, Len's face was again wrapped in a warm towel. He was happy to have it covering up his smirk when Ernesto turned on the mister, effectively drowning out a lot of the conversation—bless him, he was getting a massive tip. His father was always too good at reading people, and the distractions eliminated his ability to do that effectively here. Len didn't need him more suspicious of Izzy than he already was. "How my trip went? You mean who did I go with? I didn't see Izzy, if that's what you want to know."

"Ah, well I suppose hunting really isn't her sport, she's a bit too soft of a touch, even for robot animals. QA said she has been in the park since after the demonstration though," his father pretended to contemplate. "I thought maybe you had crossed paths."

"I haven't seen her, I told you. I didn't think I was doing any good by pestering her. She thought every move I made was to change her mind and I'm afraid she doesn't want to confide in me."

Ernesto took the towel off, wiping the lotion from Len's face before beginning another oil massage. The fact that his father was continuing on with this conversation despite the obviously poor timing spoke to his desperation, and Len found himself a little amused at this role-reversal. Dale wasn't the only Price who could read people.

"You talked her into going to our little demonstration," his father mentioned, an optimistically uninterested tone in his voice.

"She left before me and hasn't spoke to me since. I think it was more to break up the monotony of the Mesa than anything else."

There was a lengthy silence when Dale realized that Len wasn't going to be anymore forthcoming. He didn't have any more information he wanted to volunteer, not now with Ford's retirement and things so up in the air. He trusted his dad, but right now was a very stressful time for him and the company; the last thing Len wanted was for someone do to something rash like ban Izzy from the park or sue her for breach of contract. In a few months they would all look back on this and laugh...he hoped.

To his relief, his father put up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I know, I know. And I'm sorry for riding your ass about it. You know her best, and if you think backing off, maybe letting her vote her way, is best long-term, then I trust you."

"I do. She's still just her mom's proxy, dad," Len explained pointedly, waving Ernesto off for just a moment. "If you make it seem like something is going on, she's smart, she'll figure it out, if she hasn't already. Let her vote for her mom. She hates it here, she's not going to come back. I promise you that much."

His father stared at him for a beat before smiling genuinely. He could see the relief radiate off of him. Both Price men were happy to have this issue put to rest. Len hoped he could enjoy the rest of his shave.

"Mr. Price, how can I help?"

"I want an audio feed of Miss Isabella Moore's room. Send me the recordings on the hour once she returns topside."