10th of June 1937:

The brunette beauty was sat down on a grey rocking chair inside a small room. She was surrounded by the very hope of something fresh, something new, something that could possibly save her and turn her into a better person. She expected to hate this very area of the house. It was probably the pink walls, the small wooden bassinet positioned in the middle of the nursery and the knitted pillows within it that portrayed the faces of cute animals that reminded her of everything that she lost. She was close to the finish line but of course Harry wouldn't let her have it for once in her life.

He was expecting for an heir, a boy, a son, someone to be proud of. They had a visitor three months ago, a woman around 50 years old. Her husband used to conduct business with Harry and the man invited them over for dinner as a thank you. Rita was early in her pregnancy back then. She was around 20 weeks long and very much excited- but of course she wouldn't dare to show any hints of enthusiasm. Harry had the tendency to destroy anything that made her happy, and that's exactly what he did. Because of that woman. Her name was Olga.

It was convenient for Rita to put the blame on Olga back then instead of her husband's violent instincts. But she always knew within her that it all happened because of him. She was sat down on the rocking chair, murmuring the soft notes of a lullaby but she was lost in her thoughts. All she could think of was that damned afternoon. Olga identified as a psychic, and her husband had no problem with that. They were all sat down together around the rounded dinning table, the men enjoying a glass of fine scotch and Rita minding her own business until Olga spoke.

Her voice interrupted the men's conversation immediately but she didn't hesitate. She immediately exclaimed her prediction. She had announced that the child was a girl. Rita's heart had melted at the idea, cause that way she wouldn't have to be reminded of him. A son felt like something intimidating. A son meant the possibility of an actual heir, someone that could possibly turn into Harry and continue his horrible deeds. The idea of a daughter was soothing on the other hand, but the way Harry looked at her said otherwise.

His eyes filled with rage at the thought. Rita never knew that the man was superstitious. He was usually a man that stood up for his beliefs. Anything outside of his ordinary seemed like an enemy or something menacing. She recalled herself staring at Olga speechless cause Harry's glare threw flaming daggers towards her. Olga then proceeded to justify her statement by revealing a cross from her pocket. It was a tiny but shiny golden jewelry that shimmered under the dinning room's light. Olga balanced the thin chain on her index finger and closed her eyes. Rita was conflicted on whether to be scared or simply confused with the woman's act.

But Harry was invested. She could tell by the way his hazel eyes widened and then immediately narrowed at the other woman's movements. He was watching closely, like a panther awaiting for his prey. Olga held the cross next to Rita's stomach, making sure that she wasn't crossing any boundaries even though Rita's unamused face indicated nothing but disapproval. She held her finger steady and within seconds the cross started moving slightly creating small circles as it spun. Harry's eyes widened again in utter shock.

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

His tone left his mouth sternly, seeking for a rational explanation. Olga released a dose of air through a light exhale and hid the cross in her folded palm. Her deer like brown eyes shot open and stared at the intimidating man.

"It means you're having a daughter."

She admitted and her voice was soft, almost audible.

His gaze travelled all the way to Rita's stomach which he looked as plain disgust spread all over his face. Rita couldn't believe in her eyes. Her husband, Harry Jaworsky falling for the words of a psychic.

"What's wrong with having a daughter?"

The tall ginger haired man that was sat down next to him all this time asked firmly.

"How would you know? You got no heir. No legacy."

Harry responded in obvious irritation and Rita knew that she would be the one dealing with a cocktail of emotions later on. The old man sitting across the other side of the table didn't even flinch at Harry's response. Nicolas proceeded to clear his dry mouth with a sip of fresh tap water before he continued digging his own grave.

"A kid should be happy news Harry, no matter what. You got lucky enough to get yourself a young fertile woman. Don't waste your days worrying over the gender of your child."

Nicolas responded quickly and lit up a cigar and positioned it between his full lips. Olga eyed him. When Nicolas announced that they would be paying Harry's family a visit earlier that day, the woman was beyond negative with the idea. She had heard the rumors. The man was violent and clearly had a problem with retaining his anger.

"It's good news."

Olga added and this time she turned to Rita. The younger brunette showed zero interest into participating in the conversation. She was staring between the two man awaiting for Harry's next error. He would eventually lose it, but Olga's voice interrupted her thoughts. Her brown dark orbs met with warm hazel ones. There was something soothing about Olga's tone and smile. And Rita wanted to trust her. She desperately wanted to feel happy about the news, but again she couldn't. Cause that would only put her child's life at risk.

"We should call it a night. I got work early in the morning and my lovely wife should rest."

Harry broke the awkward silence with his announcement and Nicolas frowned. Rita for once again didn't move or speak. She knew very damn well what Harry could truly possibly mean by that. He wanted them alone to have one not so democratic conversation. Nicolas pushed the table back and got up on his feet. His veiny hands came to slide inside the pockets of his blazer awkwardly.

"We shouldn't overstay our welcome after all."

The ginger haired man added and walked closer to his wife. Isabelle entered the room to bring Olga her coat and from the way her cousin looked at her, she immediately sensed the tension in the room.

"I'll see you soon Nicolas. Olga... it was a pleasure."

Harry took the woman's hand gently and placed a soft peck on top of it. Rita took a step back and faked a wide smile. Nicolas seemed unamused. This encounter only meant the pause of any future business between them two. And Harry was the reason of that but Rita knew that soon he would be ranting in their living room about one more useless partner.

"We'll see about that."

Nicolas responded with confidence. He held Olga's hand gently and gave Rita a quick smile. He knew better than crossing the line with Harry right now. Olga didn't speak. Maybe she felt slightly guilty for the havoc that she caused. Rita didn't have to exclaim any facts to her for her to foresee the torment she was already enduring because of her husband. She followed her husband outside the rustic penthouse and the door shut closed. The rest was history as soon as Harry grabbed Rita from her neck and pressed her against the wall next to the door frame. Isabelle rushed to intervene...

PRESENT:

The light downstairs in the dark room which Rowbin preferred to refer to as a dungeon was dim. The cells next to Alma's were empty. She was all alone hidden in the soothing veil of darkness. At first they thought that emptying the rest of the cells was a smart idea considering Alma's ability to convince people so easily with her empowering speeches. But it was Earl that came up with the next idea.

After thorough analysis the man realized that Alma Filcot didn't need the rest of the prisoners for her own amusement. The woman was psychotic which only meant that she couldn't process reality the same way other people did. She considered the rest of the prisoners as her audience, something that she never had in reality except her dear Bertram. But she made sure to end him for good... Therefore Earl decided to remove the rest of the prisoners from her personal area, in an effort to tame her hallucinations.

Harry Jaworski was sat down on a wooden stool across the prison cell. The thin bars that separated them allowed him to maintain strong eye contact. The woman looked like a mess. She was sat down on the floor, the dirty old dress that she refused to take off surrounded her. During that awful night she looked glorious. She was shining in red expensive fabric like a movie star and now she looked like a dirty mess. That red dress was the only reminder of her glorious days or maybe the only thing that kept her hallucinations alive and thriving. Harry looked at her intensely. The minute he heard the door open he ended their conversation and immediately altered their topic.

He was very much aware of Rowbin's suspicions towards him. Especially now that he had managed victoriously to kick his only rational friend out of this department. Alma was a smart woman, the minute he started talking to her about her latest mood swings she knew that it was her turn to act. She followed his lead and continued with numbering the emotions that this prison cell made her experience. Rowbin stood at the corner with a cigarette lit between his lips. His face looked darker, angry maybe.

"Care to join our company Rowbin?"

Harry's firm tone interrupted his thoughts and brought him back to reality. The younger man didn't flinch. He didn't want to show Harry his inconvenience. He took a strong bang from the cigarette and took a step closer to gain proper eye contact.

"I only wanted to inform you that your time is over for today Harry."

His tone sounded stiff and surly. Harry chuckled in spite of himself and eyed the blonde man.

"I never instruct you on how to conduct your job."

"No you don't. But you made sure to guide Earl in order to satisfy your goals."

Harry took a moment to himself to regather his thoughts before he spoke. He straightened the edges of the grey blazer he was wearing and stood up on his feet. Alma followed his gaze but remained silent and Rowbin didn't help but notice. Her silence was much more threatening than all the moments of continuous rambling and screaming.

"I see that news spread around like a cyclone in this place." Harry smirked and a dose of playfulness glimmered in his hazel rounded eyes.

"Every working environment is like a small community. Nothing remains as a secret. After all Earl didn't mean to be discreet." He took one more bang of the cigarette he held between his middle finger and his index finger and blew the smoke towards the rocky ceiling. Harry took a couple of steps closer to encounter him. He folded his hands under his chest and every single dose of playfulness in his eyes fell away like a discarded cloak.

"Why did you insist on setting Vern on suspension? What were you afraid of?"

Rowbin knew better than to fall for Harry's nonsense. Earl was quite gullible when it came to dealing with unprecedented circumstances but Rowbin had seen too much. If war taught him one thing, that was to never trust so easily. It taught him how to sense the enemy from miles away.

"I didn't have to insist. Listen Rowbin, I'm only here to conduct my duty towards science, and I can reassure you that when it comes to work there's nothing and anyone that can stand in my way. Mister Vern Loomis was an obstacle. He prevented science from learning and hopefully improving. I couldn't stand the idea of that. Alma needs a safe environment in order to speak truthfully. And I tend to respect my patients... no matter what they've done, which is something that you police officers tend to forget."

His hazel eyes narrowed whilst he examined his now rival and the very distortion of Rowbin's face at the sound of Harry's words made the man grin. He was good at making enemies and he was fond of that attribute of his.

"She's a criminal not a patient. Spare me the extemporaneous speech Mister Jaworski. I came here to escort you outside, fortunately you can't outcome your stay."

Rowbin grinned, feeling proud of his comeback. He inhaled one final intake of tobacco and huffed the grey fume towards Harry's face.

"Fortunately for me I got the early shift tomorrow. Lead the way pal."

Harry willed the anger out of his voice and replied. He eyed Alma one last time and gave her a broad but sincere smile.

"I'll see you tomorrow Miss Filcot."

"I'll be looking forward to it Doctor."

She responded with a charming chirp and grinned like a fifteen year old girl who's been getting flirted for the first time.

Rowbin held the door open for the man to exit and husked.

"And I'm not your pal."

Harry rolled his eyes and walked out of the room leaving Rowbin behind. He disappeared upstairs before the younger police officer had the time to follow him.

It was around 3:30 when Grace and Rita finished the check up. They exited the hospital and began their walk towards the main gate where Grace's car was parked. Rita paused for a second. She slid her hand inside the small black vintage purse she had been holding fishing for something. She finally grasped a pack of cigarettes and opened the lid to grab one thin stick of tobacco. She positioned the tube of nicotine between her red lips and lit it up before Grace had the chance to disagree with her gesture.

"We're literally in hospital grounds Rita."

The blonde woman husked in obvious disapproval and began her pace again. Rita followed swaying her hips and inhaled a strong bang.

"I'm not infecting anyone Grace, no need to be annoying."

"Aren't you worried?"

Miss Berk stopped her pace for one more time and turned to face her previous enemy and now apparently friend.

"There's nothing to worry about. You heard what the doctor said, I'm absolutely healthy." Rita proceeded to respond obviously uninterested to Grace's guidance.

"For now. You tend to forget that you were in a comma for 6 months! What if you relapse?"

"I'm not a previous alcoholic!"

"Truth is that seven months in the hospital prevented you from becoming one. If it wasn't for your comma you would be drowning your sorrow in bourbon glasses as tall as you are."

Rita rolled her eyes in response and dragged one extra puff from the golden Marlboro she was holding.

"Don't you think that I've noticed the amount of booze that you were very much capable of consuming during those garden club meetings?" She quirked a suggestive brow and her lips pressed against each other.

"I only did that to endure your wicked witch temper." She responded in surrender and opened up the car door. Rita stood dead on her tracks staring at the blonde.

"Oh come on Rita, you're very well aware, don't act all offended about it."

"I had my reasons Grace. We are not going through this conversation again."

She put away the cigarette real quick and started pacing towards the gate.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm walking myself home like the good wicked witch that I am." She answered in a low and gravely voice. Grace frowned for a second before she realized. She understood that she was pushing her own luck for attacking Rita's ego. After all Rita Castillo was a woman with dignity, and during a time where she had been trying to change herself and become a better version of it she didn't seem to need the very reminder of her past spiteful self.

"Do not act like a spoiled child Rita. It came out all naturally, but it's certainly not a standing fact anymore."

She slammed the car door closed and followed the woman with fast steps that made her legs ache on the top of the white heels she was wearing.

"You seem to be in a bad mood today. Did you squabble with your lover?"

Grace's lips separated and formed a perfect O in response to Rita's comment.

"Do not dare go there!"

"I did not.You just did."

The brunette woman walked regally throughout the gate and passed the main street before Grace had the time to catch up to her. She let out a low grunt and panted as she tightened her grasp around the fabric of her yellowish knitted long dress. Rita on the other hand was boiling. Every single reminder of her past made her blood throb within her veins and it wasn't Grace's fault. It was the embarrassment she felt about herself that made her rage over a simple error Grace made. It wasn't that serious after all. She turned left on the street next to a small flower shop and went down the road entirely unaware of the name of the street.

After an upsetting encounter with Annabetha she was very much convinced that she wouldn't be dreaming of ever seeing Scooter again. She should be sick of him by now. Sick of his lies and unmanly actions that kept disappointing her no matter what. She tried to trust him multiple times but every time they reached a good level of communication he figured out a way to mess up. She walked past many houses unaware of the exact direction she was supposed to follow that lead to Grace's hotel but she stopped as soon as she came across the penthouse. It wasn't any regular penthouse, it was Scooter's current accommodation. She looked up to examine the tall windows that faced the main bedroom and living room when she noticed his tall figure standing by the right window. His gaze was blank as he stared towards the other side of the city. He was dressed up into a crème suit that flattered his masculine body and his dark thick hair were neatly slicked back like always. One hand balanced him against the wall and the other was sunk in his trouser's pocket. His lips formed a thin line and his chin looked slightly clenched. He was skeptical, Rita thought to herself and swallowed hard.

Whatever love story they shared was now all ruined. She didn't blame Annabetha for that, but she most certainly blamed Scooter for being a lap dog for every single middle aged woman that was wealthy enough to pay him well and keep him happy. She was about to walk away until she noticed his dark green eyes narrow. She hadn't realized the cause of his unsettledness until he raised his hand and pointed his finger towards her through the window. Her eyes doubled in size at the realization and she began taking a couple of steps back to break away from him. She wasn't that close to his field of view and yet he noticed her. Even now, after her rapid transformation into a woman that differed quite much from the marvelous Rita Castillo she remained easily recognized.

She continued to shine amongst the crowd. Especially in his eyes. His eyes widened as well and soon he signaled her to approach. She was unsure about his invitation, but her feet lead her to his doorstep unconsciously. By the time she reached the front door he had already gotten downstairs and awaited for her. He opened up the door quickly, looked around the street for a second suspiciously and then grabbed her hand and pulled her inside. He shut the door closed and took a moment to find his words.

"Were you spying on me?!"

"Of course I am not! What is all this?"

"Yes you were! You were staring at me through the window!"

He replied in confusion and rubbed his chin skeptically.

"After a wonderful encounter with your lovely wife I was only making sure that I wasn't being followed!" She grunted in annoyance and run her fingers through her dark curls.

"You met Annabetha? And why would she follow you?"

He asked in shock and the tremble in his voice only indicated his fear for the worse.

"It doesn't matter Scooter."

"Of course it does! When did you meet her?"

Rita let out a low sardonic chuckle in response before she proceeded to speak.

"In case you're wondering we didn't chat about our latest encounter my dear. She was only interested into bickering. She's such a pleasant presence if you ask me."

Scooter nibbled at a fingernail and looked at her intensely. He was fighting the urge to believe her or not.

"Are you serious?"

"Very."

Rita responded quickly and truthfully. The younger man paced a couple of meters away. He reached a large marble made bar that stood across a vast leather couch and proceeded to serve them both a drink. He grabbed two crystal clear glasses, positioned them on the surface of the large furniture and grabbed a bottle of whiskey. He poured a small dose within the glasses and handed one over Rita.

"It's noon."

"Perfect time for a booze if you ask me."

He replied and downed his drink in one big eager sip. Rita retained eye contact as she repeated his movement and slightly hissed at the burning sensation the scotch left in her throat.

"Rita I can't lose this house…"

"It's funny that you're married to a woman and you're only afraid of losing a house instead of losing her."

She spoke in a hoarse whisper and extended her glass towards him for a refill. He remained speechless for a couple of seconds.

"I know what you think of me… I am a joke."

"You are a fool. You're lying to yourself if you truly think that this is forever."

The man walked to the bar to refill their drinks and looked above his shoulder to catch a glimpse of her beautiful thin silhouette.

"You know that how?"

"I've tried it. It's best if you consult the more experienced ones on this field first."

"What are your tips then?"

He smirked and turned to give her her second drink. This time he looked at her in the eyes and Rita couldn't help but melt at his gaze. Those were the eyes that she had learned to love but despise deeply at the same time.

"Do not make the same mistakes that I did."

"I'm not planning to kill her Rita."

He husked and tightened his grip around his glass.

"You moron! After all this time, after everything I've been through, don't you have a little bit of decency left in you?"

Her voice was clipped and filled with a dark rage and her beautiful porcelain face immediately distorted with burning anger. The younger man almost stumbled on his feet at her response. He should have seen it coming, and he hated himself immediately for exclaiming such an accusation.

"Rita I know… I'm sorry! I know… it was all on Alma… We've been through a lot."

He lifted his free hand to caress her cheek but the woman got the time to slap it and push him away.

"Do not play the victim! Catherine gave you a home! She gave you a palace actually! And I was struggling to save my life and mourn over my abjection while you were sipping champagne off her chest!" Everything went blurry as soon as a red hot lava of emotion took over her and made her muscles tense.

"No I wasn't! She was more refined than what you think!"

"Couldn't have expected anything better from a retched nun." She rolled her eyes so hard that she almost saw stars. The brunette man took a step closer to her and downed the rest of his drink to regain his courage. Rita in a state of pure frenzy always scared the living daylights out of him.

"Rita.. come on.. I was ready to take that train to New York for you… we were going to run off together but Alma ruined everything. I only tried to ensure my survival after the mortifying event! Baby… I truly lost you." He finished his sentence and his lips quivered making him look fragile. Like a small unprotected child. He broke eye contact, only cause he couldn't stand staring at the havoc created by pain and sorrow glimmer in her eyes surrounded by unshed tears that she refused to let go. He positioned his empty glass on the top of the counter and tried to reproach her.

The reminder of her nickname made her heartbeat fasten. She took a step back in utter despair before she snapped.

"Nonsense! Have the decency to look at me when you're lying to my face!" she groaned and he immediately grabbed the bottle of scotch. He knew that if he wanted to live for another day he would have to keep her intoxicated.

"I'm not lying. I was ready to give up on my career as an actor and become a writer for you Rita!"

His tone came out pleading but surprisingly calm at the same time. He felt confident with his statement.

"For the love of god you're a fucking imbecile! What career Scooter?"

"Hey! No need to be mean… my agent is trying his best to find me promising opportunities!"

"The only actual opportunity you had in your damn life was that train to New York! But of course… I'm the idiot. For trusting you! For trusting that you would keep your own word for once."

She sipped a vast heavy sip of bittersweet liquid hoping that the numbness would occur to her soon. She didn't wish to feel anymore. And there were times that she thought that it would be better if she hadn't woken up from that comma to face all this inequity for once again. All she ever wanted was to be happy, and not to get treated like a piece of trash like she was so much used to. She was the one seeking for love and at the same time she was the one who was unable of loving unconditionally. She got blinded and drunken by glory, and when Alma showed up she took everything away. Life had taught her a strong lesson, but as she went on, she felt even more helpless.

"I didn't care about my career at the time Rita! I visited Dee to confront her about my son.. I was scared. But then I trusted you word. I trusted your vision of starting over together and finally feel happy. I needed that fresh start as much as you did, but then that woman stabbed you! You were in the hospital for too long… I thought you were dead and I was helpless. I didn't have a vision anymore…I only had a cufflink left that wouldn't suffice in order for me to survive for the rest of my life. Annabetha is the only thing I know how to do well… and when the instinct of survival kicks in, you have no choice but listen."

His shoulders shrugged in despair and his eyes closed as he exhaled deeply. He could be naive at times but he wasn't evil. He never wished to hurt her… and the very sound of her muffled sobs now broke his heart. She helped him at times and he managed to help her when he could. They shared similar experiences, or at least this is what he thought so. He could feel for her, cause there were times that her actions were understandable. He had been in her shoes. She had been in his. They both knew what it was like to feel like a piece of meat. Filthy, and dirty, and money didn't have the power to wash off the dirt they felt within.

She sat down on the corner of the couch and surrendered. Her hands cupped her flaming cheeks whilst warm aggressive tears rolled down uncontrollably. She didn't come here expecting an apology. But he gave her the confirmation that she needed to hear so badly. His lips formed a thin line as he looked at her intensely. His hazel eyes watered at the sight of Rita being so fragile and small. He approached slowly and carefully. He was afraid to intervene her personal space but at the same time he felt that she needed him closer.

He kneeled down next to her and caressed her knees gently. She wiped away a wave of crystal clear droplets off her cheeks and felt his index finger lifting her chin smoothly. She followed his lead and looked at him. Two pair of eyes full of sorrow came across each other and their gaze locked. They were inches apart and none of them was thinking straight after two glasses of scotch and a cocktail of emotions running through their blood. He kissed her. Before she had the time to respond he leaned closer to her and bridged the gap between them silencing her with a heated kiss. Rita surrendered for once again. She thought that she needed the affection. She needed the guidance.

He cupped her burning cheek smoothly and pushed her back on the couch. Soon their tongues met and brushed against each other sensually into their own unique rhythm. The brunette exhaled heavily and he came to balance his weight on top of her. She run her fingers through his dark hair and held him steady, as their kiss turned more fiery and deepened.

He bit her bottom lip only to receive a light moan that escaped her husky throat. It felt like music to his ears after all this time…

She removed his blazer eagerly and discarded it on the floor whilst his fingers rushed to unzip the zipper of the tight white dress she was wearing.

Five minutes later a pile of clothes was discarded next to the leather couch. Their bodies were completely naked on top of each other, and their lips still connected.

Rita landed back on the pillow and let out a muffled moan whilst the man grabbed her waist to keep her steady and pushed his hard length within her. She lost it. She wrapped her legs around his hips and swayed seeking to feel more of him. He silenced her with another kiss before he pulled away slightly breathless to look at her beautiful face.

"How does it feel baby?"

He asked into a hoarse tone and the woman bit her bottom lip to hold back a moan before she responded.

"Fuck me!"

She grunted eagerly and connected their lips for once again…

Grace had been pacing up and down the hotel room for the last twenty minutes. When Rita walked away from the car she thought that the woman needed the time alone to process her anger and think everything through. Grace didn't want to interrupt that. She felt for Rita, and she had realized her error, and that's exactly why she hadn't insisted on Rita returning with her in first place. She had given her an hour or two but given the latest events she had started feeling uncomfortable with Rita's absence.

She checked on the golden wrist watch she was wearing and frowned. She should have been here by now. She should have calmed down. Or, she preferred to walk away once and for all and isolate herself.

Grace felt mortified at the idea. After Rita's close encounter with death she wasn't planning to leave the brunette on her own any time soon, no matter Joan's objection to that part. She turned to grab the phone when a knock on the door interrupted her. She flinched at the sound and rushed to answer the door hoping that Rita was back and ready to solve their argument but as soon as she opened the door detective Rowbin appeared under her doorstep.

"Detective Rowbin?"

She tilted her head to the side and her blue eyes darkened.

"May I come in Miss Berk?"

He gave her a small smile and removed his brown hat as she held the door open and nodded her head nervously.