AN: these are just little drabbles looking at various possibilites, that one moment that Mag chose to be free, to no longer be Blind Mag, to be... her. If you have any ideas, I'd be glad to hear them.

"Mag, one last show, just one song, and then we'll be free." A hand tightened around her waist, and he started to plant small kisses up and down her neck, "I'd love to see the great art of Europe… and the cathedrals." He smiled into her hair, holding her close, "We're too old to be playing at this anyway."

At that? She laughed, light and soft, turning the page over on the score, reviewing the next piece, "Brandon- you might have a more open contract but I'm…"

The piece was called Chromaggia, had Rotti picked that one out special or, "I'm not so sure about this hon."

The Bandleader scooted over on the piano bench, giving her a bit more space to look over the music, her eyes winding in and out in a set rhythm of itself, "Mag- I promise not to let anything happen to you. Rotti is letting you retire, get out… we should be rejoicing, not worrying about the inner workings of our boss."

"I know, I know…" She flipped the page over and turned to him, a smile playing at the corner of her lips, "Have you bought plane tickets for that night?"

He returned the smile and gave her a quick, odd little kiss, "Yes, two tickets for the red-eye to Moscow, we're going to see the world hon. I promise."