Disclaimer: They're not mine, I'm just playing in someone else's sandbox. Promise to return them intact once I'm finished. Compliments will be repeated in front of the mirror, flames will be used to light my cigarettes. Please send them all in.
I have absolutely no knowledge whatsoever about prisons or the criminal justice system, apart from what I've seen on movies and TV shows, so all mistakes are mine and mine alone.
Lyrics in the title are from Tricky's song 'Overcome'.
So, this was supposed to be the final installment of the series, just to give the boys some closure, but the whole thing kinda ran away from me and went into a completely different direction. I'm not particularly happy with this part but… it is what it is.
But, fear not! The third (and hopefully final) part is already being worked on and it should give the boys the happy ending they deserve.
I have nothing to give
by Rita C.
The countless ticking of the clock was driving him crazy – not the actual ticking, because there was only one clock in the entire facility and whatever noise it might have made was drown out by the never ending noise of voices talking, whispering, yelling. It was time itself that was driving him up the walls, the endless stretch of hours that didn't seem to pass, regardless of everything he made up to keep himself occupied.
It had been precisely fourteen days, seven hours and twenty three minutes since Agron had been released, and Nasir had never felt more alone.
The first couple of days had been a return to his old routine, what he had begun to think of as Life Before Agron. It had scared him at first – not the being alone part, life had made damn sure he was more than used to that – but the way he had so easily grown accustomed to the bigger man's constant presence, his easy laugh, the way it had become them instead of just him.
He wasn't used to being afraid tough, and the feeling had quickly made him angry – which was far better in his book. Anger he was used to, anger had kept him alive, anger he could deal with. Anger he could easily direct at someone else. And, while breaking a jaw or crushing a bone, he didn't have to think (think about how cold he felt at night, how much he missed those giant arms around him, how utterly alone he felt every hour, every minute, every second of every single fucking day) – he only had to survive. And he was good at that.
Eventually tough, with the passing of days, Nasir discovered that anger wasn't enough for him anymore. He blamed Agron for it – in the old days, before they had crossed paths, anger was all he knew, it was what had earned him the nickname of Wild Dog, it was safe. Agron had changed that as well.
So Nasir had switched tactics, trying to keep himself busy, trying desperately not to think. He had done chores around the prison, worked in several departments, going as far as joining a volunteer program training dogs for blind people. Anything that would make time pass more quickly, and make him that much closer to his release date.
Nasir was lying down in his cot, quietly reading a book. He had found out soon during his earlier days here that the best time to get some peace and quiet was during visiting hours, when inmates were far away from their cells, enjoying the presence of loved ones, and the ones without said comfort were left wallowing in their own misery. It was unusually quiet during those hours and Nasir enjoyed the peace those moments provided him.
He curiously raised his eyes from the book as he heard footsteps approaching his cell, just in time to see a guard, Donar again, walking in.
"You have a visitor."
To say he was surprised was the understatement of the year – he had no family, no real friends to speak of, certainly no one who would take the trouble of coming all the way out here to see him. A sneaking suspicion began settling in his mind as he weaved through the possibilities.
He stood up quickly and began following the guard through the narrow hallways. An increasingly louder noise signaled their approach to the room where visits were held.
"He's over by the corner table, you can't miss him."
With a slight smirk, Donar opened the door and ushered him in.
The room was big, bigger than anything he had seen in this place, filled with round tables where inmates and their families were busy chatting with each other. He recognized a couple of them and nodded quietly in their direction, before directing his attention to the corner table. Yes, he was certainly impossible to miss.
Agron was sitting slightly to the side, looking around the place, looking as uncomfortable as one could possibly look, as if he truly didn't belong here. Which was funny in a way, because it had only been a couple of months since he had stood there as part of the resident population instead of a visitor. Apparently, freedom did agree with him.
His hair was still short and spiked, although it looked a lot more stylish than before. The faded jeans and black t-shirt clung to his frame, leaving little to the imagination. He looked better than ever and Nasir could already spot a few of the ladies looking in his direction.
Agron looked at him then and stood up. A ghost of a smile graced his features and it gave Nasir the push he needed to start walking towards him. A tingling feeling was beginning to make itself felt in Nasir's stomach, and as he finally approached Agron and felt his arms pull him into a hug, he sighed. Gods above, how he had missed him!
"I thought I told you not to come here." His words were slightly muffled from being pressed into the bigger man's chest but he thought he was making his meaning clear.
"When have I ever done what people tell me to?"
Nasir laughed softly at that and raised his head up to give Agron a small kiss before taking a step back and moving over to sit at the table. Time was limited here, and there was far too much to convey.
"You look good."
"Thanks. So do you."
Nasir snorted at that. "Liar."
"How have you been doing?" The concern in Agron's voice, deep and genuine, was not unexpected but it still left a bitter feeling within Nasir. He didn't want him to worry.
"You know what it's like in here. Other than that I'm doing fine. It's you I wanna hear about. How are things?"
Agron's face lit up at that, launching himself into excited tales of life outside these walls. He had found a job, and a house, and friends who had no idea what it was like to be a convicted criminal. He had started taking night classes. He was apparently giving this 'honest life' thing a real go. He was taking his life back, and building a new one instead.
One hour can last for a lifetime, as they were both well aware off, but it can also pass you by in a blur. Soon, the sound of chairs being pulled back and the quiet sobbing of a little girl saying goodbye to one of the other inmates signaled that their time was up.
They stood up and found themselves awkwardly looking at each other. This was an actual goodbye, one that could hardly be avoided, and they found they both sucked at it. The kiss came as a complete surprise to Nasir.
They were both private men, as private as one could be at a place like this, and although they had never shied away from showing their affection, they had found they preferred it when it was just the two of them, without being surrounded by whistles and catcalls.
It took Nasir's brain a moment to catch up – even if his body had no such problems, molding itself effortlessly against a familiar body, lips easily reacquainting themselves with a hot, wet mouth, hands holding on to that black t-shirt for dear life. He felt Agron's tongue licking his lips and couldn't resist a playful bite, before allowing it entrance and soothing it with his own.
It was over far too soon for both their liking and Nasir gently pulled back from the embrace, putting some distance between the two. One more second and he doubted he'd be able to let go.
Agron seemed to sense it and lifted a hand, gently caressing his face one last time. Then, with a slight nod of his head, he turned around and went for the door, and Nasir could swear he felt his heart breaking a little bit.
Nasir had never had things easy. It seemed as tough from the very first time he had drawn breath, life had always felt a perverse pleasure in fucking him over. It had taught him things though – how to survive, how to depend on himself alone, how to not hope.
A sick smile graced his features as he looked at the letter in his hands one more time, the big bold red letters reading 'Parole Denied'. It seemed fitting somehow. He had dared himself to hope and here it was, the constant reminder that some people didn't get any breaks. Really, he should have known by now.
His mind wandered back to Agron's last visit. His enthusiasm was nothing if not contagious, increased tenfold since his release. Nasir had longed to be a part of it, to share with his lover the life he was beginning to make for himself. A life, Nasir feared, that would have no place for him once his time finally came.
It was that thought, above everything else, that had prompted him to accept Agron's suggestion to meet up with a new lawyer, and try for an early release.
'You have an almost exemplary record on the inside.' and 'You are using your time wisely, proving to them you can be a useful member of society.' and also 'This will not be easy, but you have a better chance than many.' The words the lawyer had used swam around in his head, taunting him.
He knew this was his doing, when it came down to it. It was his choices and his actions that had landed him here and, as much as he'd like to argue – as he had done countless times – that it was all about not having any other choice, he knew that wasn't the truth. There had been other choices, he just had chosen not to take them.
Still, it was because of those choices he had met Agron, so it was hard to completely regret them. He just wished and hoped – and there was that fucking word again – that, for once, it might have turned out differently for him.
And that left him with only one more thing to do – one last course of action, one final choice, before he settled back into this life and prepared himself for the years he still had left to serve. He had to tell Agron.
A hard life led to some hard time. Nasir could still remember the first time he had ever heard that, back in the days when he was still a kid learning how to shoplift because he was too hungry to do anything else. Those words had become a motto, something to live by, what he had repeated in his head to steel himself against the harsh reality, the first time he had been sent to juvenile detention.
He remembered well those hard years, when he was too young and too good looking to defend himself against the bigger kids. Still, it had toughened him up – prison felt almost like home now, meals and a place to crash guaranteed at the end of each day, a sick sense of routine to break away from the rest of his life. There were those who could never quite fit in, who grew weary and restless - Agron was the perfect example of that – but there were advantages from having been in and out of prison ever since you were a kid. You learned to adapt.
His talk with Agron had been difficult, neither one prepared to accept the harsh reality of enduring a long separation. Agron's mind had been racing with hundreds of schemes designed to twerp that reality and it had taken all of Nasir's considerable persuasive skills to change his mind, at least for the time being.
He had considered suggesting giving their relationship some time, given the circumstances, but had eventually dropped the subject after Agron successfully changed the topic for the fifth time. This reprise would have to do… for now.
Still, time was running short. It was strange to think of it like that, when he was looking upon a long sentence still to serve, with nothing available to him but time, but his summoning to the director's office just two days ago had somehow changed his view.
"Mr. Karim, I am to tell you that you are to be transferred to a different facility. Soon, you will be someone else's problem."
His face had softened then.
"You're not an entirely bad kid. Maybe this change will do you good, clear your head somehow."
Nasir disagreed with that – the only change that had ever done him any good was currently living some miles away. It had been the only one, as far as he was concerned, that had cleared the cobwebs in his mind and left him thinking and seeing things clearly.
He could see the director's point though. There were too many memories here. Donar, the friendly guard whom Nasir had started to look upon as a friend, had expressed a similar opinion.
"It might do you both some good. Put some distance there. It might give you both the focus you need right now, him into making something of his life without worrying about you and you into getting through your time." He had grinned there – actually grinned, something Nasir had started to believe he was physically incapable of – before continuing.
"It's just something to think about."
And Nasir had thought about it. It seemed as though they were all of the opinion that they were better off letting go. And after the initial first (and expected) reaction of pure stubbornness, Nasir had begun to think that maybe they weren't that far off the mark.
Because it was easy enough to get lost, lost in those arms and those lips, in memories of times spent together, in the feeling of being safe and wanted and loved. It was too easy to get stuck there, when there was no way for you to move forward. And in the end, wasn't letting go an act of love?
He smirked as he pondered this. 'No' would be Agron's answer. 'Do not let me go. Do not let us go.'
He steeled himself for the conversation as he walked over to the telephone. He had five minutes (and when was the last time he had managed to have a five minute conversation with Agron without it turning into an hour(s) long discussion over everything and nothing? Apart from the times when marathon talking turned into marathon kissing and marathon fucking and marathon everything, because they were together and that was all that mattered.).
Still, he had five minutes to convince him this was for the best, that maybe in some years they could pick up where they left off, that it was the right thing to do, that it was the only thing to do. He needed to use that persuasion that made him good at what he did, the steel that had landed him here and the power and calming effect Agron had always claimed he had over him. It wouldn't be so difficult.
All he needed to do was swallow that lump in his throat that was making it hard to breathe.
Slowly, he raised his hand and dialed the number.
"Agron? It's me."