Nate was not going to pretend his time in jail was as difficult as most inmates. He was in for white collar crime, he cooperated with police and FBI investigations, and he was on good terms with the right people; it did not keep him out of gen pop, but he got to enjoy the occasional creature comforts: namely, time and space to occasionally paint, which helped him keep his mind clear. He was blessed with the social grace and sense to keep on good terms with most inmates and steer clear of the ones who would not take a shine to him. He did plenty of reading and exercising, looking to take the time to improve himself and be productive.

He was allowed some phone calls, but those were usually when necessary: coordinating with whatever division of law enforcement needed him to provide information, reaching out to the school to check in on any major changes in the staff or tenants. He was limiting his social calls, because outside of the people he knew at the Mansion who were going to eventually take custody of him in the eyes of the law, he had made the choice to distance himself from most friends and... well, he had no real loved ones. An ex-girlfriend and cop who had vanished from the face of his life, and a girl he had been getting to know, but had no interest in dragging through the joys of dating an imprisoned felon.

So now Nate was out, pounds of muscle heavier and dozens of social contacts lighter. Returning to the school kept him being from totally directionless, but he was still figuring out how he was supposed to fill his nights. Four years of painting, exercising, reading, and avoiding emotional connections where hard to break.

His Saturday afternoon would be much like any other before it, had it not been for an article in the Arts and Leisure section of the paper that caught his eye. A new piece being added to a gallery in the city:

"Parker. Giant spider. Acromantula." by Sarah Jackson"

He tossed around the idea of just ignoring the discovery and moving on with his life. He left Sarah on... well, not bad terms. Or at least, he would not know. Sarah was a sweet woman who might have considered trying to be there for him as he went through his penance, and he could not risk that. Instead, she got a note:

Dear Sarah,

I'm sorry, but I have to go away for a while. There's nothing that can be done about it, and you're too good for me to drag into this.

Thanks for the memories,

Nate

Not quite his most charming message, but he did not want her thinking it was worth figuring out what happened. He would be the asshole she dated once who disappeared, and that was fine.

Except now he was standing outside the Art Gallery, looking in through a large glass window. Technically, going in would be breaking his parole, but as luck would have it, he knew the curator of this particular gallery. It was not like they could put an ankle bracelet on him; his shadowform could easily allow him to slip out of it, which would also make any tracer in his body useless. Every museum, gallery, and major business had a picture of him circulating through security, so his only hope came in old friends willing to look the other way.

He was dressed appropriately, in a new tailored suit-- one of the few he now owned. Once upon a time, he owned a collection of suits, but frankly, none of them fit now. For all intents and purposes, he might as well have been a new man in mind and body. He entered into the gallery, giving a friendly nod to the curator behind the desk. All he could hope was that he was not forgetting some past transgression that would make Willie call the police on him.

It was a stupid risk, which was unlike Nate, but he could not help himself. He found himself standing in front of a painting of a familiar friend, with another familiar name written next to it, giving credit to one Sarah J.

Sarah felt she was doing well. She had people she considered friends and talked to a lot. Her work was being shown more and more in the smaller galleries of New York. She wasn't worried about money.

The brunette artist felt good.

Good enough that going through old sketchbooks hadn't caused her to wallow. It was actually helpful, seeing how she had improved since she first came to the state. She had even turned some of those old sketches into new pieces. Nothing that she truly thought would be of interest to most of those who came through, but they held something important to Sarah herself.

She was especially proud of a few of the pieces that seemed to garner attention. One a painting of Gina, elegantly flying down to the street. The whole painting was dark in color which actually made it hard to see Gina if you didn't know she was there. Guardian of Innocence was the name of the painting. Sarah would admit to spending a lot of her time looking at the piece, remembering past mistakes but the lessons those mistakes taught her.

The other painting was of a more difficult character. And what did it say that there was a more difficult personality to catch in paint than the kind but initially frightening Gina. Then again, Parker was something else. Giant spider with a rather amusing personality. Sarah had enjoyed the challenge of showing the pet spider's playfulness. It ended up looking like a strange close up of a fairy tale creature, Parker taking a bow to an invisible audience. She had a few moments when she had wanted to give him a top hat for fun. That particular sketch was hiding in her studio.

The only thing that made looking through old sketchbooks difficult had been finding an old note from a man she had thought she had something with. The note from Nate was vague. And there wasn't a lot she could have done in response to the note. She was, at least back then, too good for him to drag into whatever had happened. She had left the note within the pages of her sketchbook, thinking she would never open it again. Sad to think about something that never began, but then Sarah had realized the page she slipped the note into was full of sketches of Parker.

Her amusing painting of Parker usually got some fans of Harry Potter due to the title she gave it. Usually gangly teens and bright eyed children. Thus, Sarah felt she was allowed a little shock at finding a pretty muscled man standing in front of Parker. Giant Spider. Acromantula.

"I'll admit, I don't think this one gets much attention," Sarah stated from just a little away from the man. There wasn't really anything that specified her as the artist so hopefully she could get an honest opinion on the piece. "Why did this one catch your eye?"

What he was looking to gain from visiting Sarah’s painting, Nate was not exactly sure. It was a great piece, with the realism and detail he expected from the woman’s style of art. He knew she was a talented artist, and all the painting proved was that Parker left an impression. Of course he did; he was a giant spider. Throughout Nate’s four years away, he never had a hard time picturing his unusual pet nipping at his hand when it dangled off the bed. Retrieving Parker from the spider-friendly former companion he left him with was one of the first things Nate did upon his release.

Maybe he was looking for the intervening hand of fate to work its magic, which was unusual for the former conman who once believed solely in making his own fate. It was hard to deny the power of fate when he suddenly found himself standing next to the artist in question.

Sarah had not changed much over the years; she was beautiful as ever, with the lovely smile and captivating brown eyes he grew enamored with once upon a time. Meanwhile, he had changed enough that it would seem his ex did not initially recognize him.

He should say something; he was not a con anymore, and pretending to be someone else was a habit to which he should not make a trend of returning. And yet… ”The subject I suppose,” he replied in his natural Southern drawl. ”I used to be terrified of spiders, but this one is interesting to me.”

Nate gestured to the painting with his hand. ”Plus, the way the artist uses color and light has always caught my eye.” He turned to glance down at Sarah, who had always been almost a foot shorter than him. ”I guess you could say I’m something of a fan of her.”

Keeping herself facing both the man and the painting let the woman take stock of the stranger. Tall, though most everyone was to her short stature, muscled and she could see his eyes were a haunting grey.

>>The subject I suppose. I used to be terrified of spiders, but this one is interesting to me.”

Something in Sarah twinged at his voice. It was... familiar. Though after living in New York City for almost five years, most accents were vaguely familiar. The admittance to a fear of spiders made her smile though. Not a lot of men she met would admit that aloud. The last one to do that...

Then he was going into her art itself, not just the piece. He sounded like...

>>”I guess you could say I’m something of a fan of her.”

...he knew her work. "Really?" she asked. Sarah was pretty sure she knew most of her regular fans. There weren't too many places with her work yet for her to have difficulty meeting people. "I don't think I've seen you at any of her shows before..." And the brunette knew very little of her art was online yet. So how did he know her?

He knew his comment would pique her interest. Sarah was an underappreciated artist, not altogether uncommon in New York, so she knew it would be a rarity for someone to know her name, let alone consider themselves a fan.

He was not going to drag out his anonymity—that would not be fair to her. Nate did not come to the gallery to meet her again under false pretense. He was using his own accent, which would probably set off a flag or two. His hair was short and his body was different, but his eyes were still the same; maybe even his smile. It would sink in soon.

But the mystery of having a fan was keeping her mind busy. Nate had to be careful, or she might assume him a stalker before she figured him out. ”I don’t find much time these days to check out many art shows sadly.” It was true, though it left out the fact that his absence from the art world was less his choice and more a legal mandate.

”I followed a little bit of her earlier work, really.” His body was now facing only her, with the painting becoming an afterthought. He was looking right at her now. ”I still remember when she let me look at some of the work in her sketchbook. I must’ve been the luckiest guy in New York,” he admitted with a smile.

>>”I don’t find much time these days to check out many art shows sadly.”

That... wasn't actually helpful. At all. And then the only thing in her focus was the man. His piercing grey eyes. Tall, broad body. There was definitely familiar. But from where and when were the questions.

>>”I still remember when she let me look at some of the work in her sketchbook. I must’ve been the luckiest guy in New York.”

Sarah quirked an eyebrow at him. She had let plenty of people look through her sketches before she finally got the offer to be shown in a gallery. But the way he made it sound... almost like they were close... but...

"Really?" she asked him, hip cocked and a very unimpressed look on her face.

Nate was trying to read Sarah’s reaction, but her “Really?” was not giving him much to work with on that front. Was it starting to break through who he was, or had there been plenty of men who had seen her sketchbook since he left?

Suddenly, that potential reality hit Nate clearly: her life went on after he left. They had a few promising dates, and he ghosted her completely. He then went to a prison where she was the last girl to cross his mind, while she was living in New York, a gorgeous woman surrounded by potential bachelors. It was arrogant of him to think he made that much of an impression. Maybe she was starting to think he was just some guy trying to gain art cred by claiming to know the artist, not realizing that was who he was talking to. The art world was well known for its poseurs after all.

Deflated, he shrugged his shoulders and sighed. ”Really. Not sure if she’d have much reason to remember me though. I guess I wouldn’t give much thought to a guy who would leave a note and disappear,” he admitted. ”Honestly, I still regret that choice, Sarah,” he said, finally dropping any pretense that he did not know who she was. Now he would at least know if he made any impression at all years ago.

Well there wasn't much Sarah felt she could say to him now. The "leave a note and disappear" bit was pretty telling. He had known who she was from the beginning. Of course he did. They had been close...

Or at least, she had thought they were. Then she received a note that honestly caused quite a few tear soaked nights. And he regretted it. She wondered what exactly he regretted of the events. There were so many ways she could take his words. But...

"'Of all the words of mice and men, the saddest are, 'It might have been,'' Nate," she said softly, words just loud enough to carry to him. Keeping her eyes cast down, Sarah tried to reign in her emotions. She had never been good at public masques though. "Ya know, I thought about going to the school to find you. Figured it would be useless though. Your note really said it all."

Everything was out in the open now; or maybe it was too early to say “everything,” but they both knew now who they were standing with. What they were still working on was where they stood with one another, and that was a much murkier picture that would involve much more explanation.

Assuming he would even get the chance. Her first words were a quote, and in so many words, she really captured his regret arriving years too late. Her voice was soft, and not the voice of a woman who had pushed him out of her heart completely. He felt the guilt of realizing his departure left some impact, which was unfair when he left knowing it would.

Sarah considered looking for him at the school, but the message he left behind evidently served its role in dissuading her from chasing him. The hurt in her voice when she brought up the note was clear. He looked over, but she was keeping her eyes low and away from him. He deserved this, and he was being unfair, but he spoke anyway. ”It did not say it all. I… didn’t know how to explain everything to you then. I’d… like to now. If you still had any interest in hearing from me.” He was not sure if explaining his past and his imprisonment would change anything, but Sarah deserved more closure than a note.

Her eyes darted to Nate's face. Didn't say it all? Sarah doubted that and her face showed it. And he didn't know how to explain? Seemed pretty easy from where she stood. If Nate didn't want a relationship with her all he had to do was say so. Which he did in his note.

But he wanted to "explain" now. Alright. She could deal with that. Did she have an interest in what he had to say? More than she liked to admit to.

"Alright. Explain it to me then," she huffed a little, not moving from where she stood. If he wanted to explain, he would have to on her terms.

Her answer did not come right away, but Sarah did want to hear Nate out. This was what Nate had wanted, but the conditions certainly were not ideal. It was hitting him that he never expected Sarah to be at the gallery that day, so he thought there would be some time for him to be ready to meet her again. Even worse, Sarah's body language made it clear she had no intentions of moving, so they would be talking things out right in the art gallery. It was not the backdrop he wanted to come clean in, but the decisions he made up to this point left him with very little choice.

"Okay," he started quietly, taking as much time as he needed to gather his words; there would only be one chance at this after all. "Before I even came to New York, I wasn't a teacher or even an artist, really. I was an art forger. Bond forger. White collar criminal. Basically everything under the conman umbrella." Nate kept his voice low, not looking to earn the attention of passerbys, particularly ones who would put two and two together and realize he should not be within fifty feet of the place.

"I came clean. It was something I wanted to do." A more bold Nate would point out that he came forward by choice, because he was far too good at what he did to get caught, but he was smart enough to know there was a time and place for his snarky ego. "I've been in jail serving out my time so I could get out and earn my probation on the up and up."

Finally, with the dirty details out of the way, he could wrap things back around to Sarah. "I really like you Sarah," he admitted, choosing to use the present tense because, seeing her again, there was a part of him that still missed being this close to her. "But that old life had nothing to do with you, so I didn't want to drag you into my mess."

He was still unsure if he left so she could not convince herself to stay with him, or so she would not leave in disgust. Maybe it was a little bit of both, which left the note as the cleanest, easiest choice. The coward's way out. "You were still building your life in New York. I guess I thought it'd be less messy for you this way. But that's not a good excuse; I'm sorry I didn't say anything back then." He made the choice for her, but four years later, she knew who Nate actually was, and she could finally make the choice to walk away for herself.

Sarah's hands fell limp as her... as Nate began his explanation. Art forger. White collar criminal. Conman. Before she could even fully process what he had told her, there was more. He "came clean" and went to prison. She could understand, just a little, how he left the way he did. It wasn't an excuse, but the woman was conscious enough to know she probably wouldn't have taken the news well back then. Hell, she probably wasn't taking it well now.

>>"I really like you Sarah."

That didn't much make her feel better. He left with just about no word and then showed up at one of her shows and... what did he expect? What does he want?

"'Less messy,'" she repeated after he was done. Taking a deep breathe, she reminded herself that she was not allowed to make a scene at the gallery. "You know, I doubt this all would have mattered for long back then."

Her smiled turned sardonic as she thought back to that year. Though of her father's stroke and eventual death. She really doubted she would have paid much attention after that December. As always when she thought of her father, her tear ducts started working aggressively. It still hurt, even after so many years. Her mother was lifeless most days, only her and her brother could get a response from the heartbroken woman.

"How long have you been out?" she asked finally.

Nate was watching Sarah closely, and it was clear there was a shift in her body language at his admission. It was hard to blame her; finding out she dated a criminal would be hard to process, and as an artist, it must have been worse to know he was an art forger. Maybe it would have been wise for Nate to find himself a pretty female ex-con to romance rather than being drawn to cops and artists.

She repeated his excuse and he felt his body tense up. The note was “less messy” for him, but he was already realizing how selfish his actions were. Her tone and her smile felt cold, which was not the emotion he was accustom to from Sarah. She was always warm to him once upon a time, so the change was a great reminder that he definitely screwed things up.

He wondered what he really left behind when he turned himself in. Sarah was still figuring her life out in New York, and suddenly a small amount of stability and familiarity was pulled away from her without warning. Did things get worse for her when he left? Of course, she was thriving now as a successful artist, but what was the path like to get there?

She wanted to know how long he had been out, and Nate knew the number of days and hours off the top of his head, but he kept his answer to, ”A little over a week.” He considered looking her up right out of the gate, but thought better of it; he needed time to settle in, and to decide if finding Sarah was even a smart idea for either of them. ”I don’t think I actually expected to see you here. I just… saw your name and curiosity got the better of me.”

There was a small awkward pause after his comment where Nate was able to reevaluate and wonder if he made too bold a choice coming to the art gallery. ”I didn’t know if you’d want to hear from me, or reaching out to you would have been the first thing I did,” he admitted. ”I can go, though. If that’s what you want.” If he had burned his bridge with her, there was no sense in him sticking around.

Sarah stared at ex-con, -teacher, -significant-person-in-her-life. A week. He had been out of prison a week. And he was here at one of her shows. Which...

"You got out of prison for art forgery and then came to one of my art shows?" she asked, quite a bit of shock in her voice. "Wouldn't you be on probation? Wouldn't coming here be a violation of that?"

With so much out on the table, Nate was at least hoping to hear whether he should stay or go, but he would have to wait. With the initial shock of his honesty wearing away, Sarah figured out there was something amiss about his decision making.

His mouth hung open for a moment while he figured out how to answer her question. "Yeah, you kinda hit the nail on the head there. This was... kind of impulsive, I guess?" He smiled on instinct; he was not trying to intentionally get out of trouble, but that was always what his smile was always for.

Maybe more of an explanation was warranted. "I know the curator. He's a former acquaintance from... well, we go way back." There was no need to get into the particulars of a man who had straightened his life out as well.

"There were probably smarter choices than risking my probation," he admitted before sighing. Thinking about it, if Sarah was still bitter about the way he left, she had the perfect way to throw him back "But I guess the minuscule chance of running into you was too much to pass up."