Thomas had been surprised when the address Mr Blake had given him had turned out to be an apartment building in a not-so-glamourous part of town. Though Danielle had graduated not long ago, she wasn't poor by any means. She'd accomplished much more than seemed possible during her time at Hollywood U; had been a part of – and even produced – multiple high-profile projects, and earned what Thomas assumed must have been a great sum of money, and yet… she lived here.

It wasn't a terrible neighbourhood – rather close to the university and, consequently, not far from his own house – and the building looked clean and well taken care of. Still, Thomas would have expected… something flashier. Or at least something bigger.

His surprise was even bigger when Danielle let him into her apartment. It was a studio, and while not tiny, it certainly didn't offer a lot of space. The furniture – and especially the kitchen area – looked somewhat out of place, being very clearly more expensive than someone who would normally live in such a space could ever afford.

But Thomas wasn't here to judge her choice of home or her taste in interior decorating. So he took his eyes off the Permanent Wound poster above her desk and turned to her. "Why did you do it? Are you that desperate to work with me? Because—"

"You think I want to work with you?" she exclaimed, followed by a shrill laugh. "You're insane. I've seen you work. You're a right bastard of a director, and I'd take Phelps over you any day."

That statement hurt his pride much more than he cared to admit. Phelps certainly was not a better director than he was! How dare she even insinuate that? "Then why aren't you pestering him to come back to the film?"

"Because—" She took a deep breath and shook her head, seemingly changing her mind. "Would you like some tea?"

"No, I would like to know what the hell you aren't telling me!"

She nodded. "Tea, then. Have a seat. I'll be right back."

Danielle walked over to the kitchen area. Thomas didn't sit down but followed her instead. "Miss Allen, I do not have the time—"

"I lied to you, okay?" she said, sounding choked, and when she turned around Thomas could see the tears in her eyes. "I lied. There was no fight."

"Then wh—"

"Sit. Please?"

And she looked so young then, so vulnerable, so much like the green freshman who had her first paycheck taken away by a soulless industry giant, that Thomas couldn't help relenting. He nodded, told her, "Earl Grey, if you have any," and made his way over to the couch. He watched her slowly compose herself as she prepared the tea, and by the time she walked over with two cups – one black and unsweetened, one with milk and sugar – she seemed to have calmed down. She set the milk-less tea on the coffee table and handed Thomas the other cup before sitting down on the chair across from him.

"Did I tell you how I take my tea?"

She shook her head. "Centaurus Lost. You'd have coffee in the early mornings, then switch to tea around noon."

Thomas almost dropped his cup at that. Centaurus Lost. He'd nearly forgotten. "Are there pictures from the set, too?"

Danielle bit her lip, then nodded hesitantly. "Viktor doesn't have them, though."

"Do you have them?" he inquired.

She looked at the floor, then nodded again. "They're safe, I promise. I never gave anything to him. Or anyone else, for that matter."

Thomas took a sip of his tea, contemplating how to get any information out of her without making her cry again. Something was wrong, he could tell, and perhaps he had judged her prematurely. Perhaps she really wasn't at fault. Perhaps he should withhold judgement until he heard what she had to say. If she had to say anything, that was.

"You said you lied," he ventured.

She swallowed hard. "I did."

"About Phelps?"

Danielle closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. "He didn't quit. He was fired."

"That makes no sense whatsoever. Why—"

"It will in a moment," she sighed. "They – or I suppose I should say Viktor – never actually wanted me in the film. He just wanted me to bring people in."

Thomas groaned as the pieces began falling into place. "Because you have pull with all the people he doesn't."

She nodded sadly. "I got Zoe and Chris on board. Even managed to get Holly in to write the script. The only person he wanted that I couldn't – wouldn't – get him was…"

"Me," he finished. "You never even came to ask me."

"Because I knew you would say no," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, absolutely. But I would have also told you to stay away from Montmartre."

Danielle raised an eyebrow. "Gee, thanks. You don't think I realised at that point that I've made a mistake? But I'd already signed the contract."

"Fair enough," Thomas conceded. It wasn't like he could tell her she could have come to him for help. "So, at some point, Phelps comes in."

"Yes, because we did need a director, and he's done good enough work for Viktor in the past. Not who he had wanted, but better than no one, I suppose."

He didn't ask why Montmartre would have wanted him. Or Holly Chang, or Chris Winters, or Zoe Rodriguez. It was quite obvious – a show of power. Now that the hierarchy of the Silver Circle had been destroyed, he could have it all. Thomas should have known that it wouldn't be long until a new problem would emerge.

What he didn't quite understand, however, was how Montmartre had come to be in possession of that photograph. And, most certainly, others as well. The most logical explanation would have been that Danielle had been blackmailed first. If her time at the university was any indication, there was plenty of blackmail material to be found about her. And though Thomas didn't want to believe she would throw him under the bus like that—

"Oh, hell no," she said, interrupting his train of thought. "I cannot believe you would even think that I could – do you really think so little of me?"

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "What am I supposed to think? Clearly, he has something on you, and who could blame you—"

"Oh, fuck you, Thomas," she snarled and got up from her chair, nearly knocking it over. She walked to her desk to retrieve something from her purse and returned with her wallet a few seconds later, slamming it on the coffee table. "His stupid niece found this."

"Your wallet?" Thomas asked. Now he was really confused. What did her wallet have to do with any of this?

"Open it."

"Why—"

"Just open it," she snapped.

He picked up the small leather purse and unfolded it, only to see that picture from the Fairytale Kingdom Formal he'd been sent in the ID window. "So he had a picture of us dancing. He's got to have more; he wouldn't risk being reported over so little proof."

She nodded. "Slide it out."

Thomas did as she told him and nearly gasped when he saw the photo behind it. It was from the same night, only a few hours later, and it appeared that he was kissing her. "This never happened."

"Yes, it did. You found me in the rain, after my fight with Bianca, and we danced, and—"

"I remember," he interrupted her. Of course he did. That was not a night he would forget, though he did bury the memory all the way in the back of his mind. "But I never kissed you. I would never!"

Danielle took the wallet from his hands and looked at the photo for a while before saying, "No, but I would."

"You didn't. I think I would remember."

She rolled her eyes. "And I'd think you'd remember that it was just your cheek – no matter what it looks like in the photo."

He did remember that. He also remembered repeatedly touching his cheek on the way home and wondering why the hell he had allowed her to do that. He asked himself that same question now – but there was no use dwelling on it. "Does he have any more?"

"Some from Sundance. The one May Gordon's published before. They're not bad on their own, but…"

"Damn it, Danielle! You should have told me as soon as you knew he had them!"

"Told you what? That I've ruined your life? That I'm exactly as stupid as you always said I was? No thanks. It's not like it would have changed anything." She sniffed. "I'm sorry. I am. I wish I'd never kept those stupid pictures. I should have just burnt them or something."

Thomas was not prepared for how much he disagreed with that notion. Though, logically, it would be better if those pictures didn't exist, he didn't want them to be gone. The Fairytale Kingdom Formal that particular year had been the only one he'd ever even remotely enjoyed. Still… "Why didn't you? Why keep them in your wallet?"

Danielle smiled ruefully. "Because I'm sentimental. Why do you think I still live here?"

"Still? Is this…?"

She nodded. "The apartment I moved into when I decided to live off-campus. Yeah. I never could part with it. And it's not like I need more space right now. I spend most of my time on set, anyway."

"You'll have to part with it someday. The building might be demolished, or even just sold."

"Oh, it was sold. To me."

Thomas blinked. "You bought this whole building because you wanted to keep your old apartment?"

"I told you I'm sentimental," she shrugged. "Besides, it's a gold mine. I mean, so close to campus? And not a complete dump? It's perfect."

They were quiet for a while, unsure what else there was to be said. Thomas knew he would have to comply with Viktor's demands for the time being, and Danielle seemed incredibly reluctant to speak – likely for fear of upsetting him in any way. Eventually, he broke the silence.

"You said you had photos from the set of Centaurus Lost…"

She looked up at him wide-eyed. "I… I do. And… some others, too."

"Can I see them?"

He wasn't sure what drove him to ask. But, surely, it would be good to know what else could get out there… that was the only reason. He just wanted to know if there was anything else that could ever be used against him. Maybe he'd even make her destroy everything. He knew he wouldn't, though. Because Thomas, too, had a sentimental side.