A/N: Dystopias are my favorite book genre. McPriceley is my favorite fictional couple. As evidenced by Contention 1 is Inherency, I have a habit of taking my favorite things and smashing them together to form AUs.

We interrupt this coverage to bring you- oh- we're just getting a report from- oh, my goodness- it looks like Los Angeles has just been attacked. Preliminary reports are telling us there was a terrorist attack on Los Angeles- there are no details available at this time- we'll keep you updated...

The latest Gallup poll shows the Take Back America party is experiencing an absolute surge in popular opinion, and are now the front-runners in this year's presidential race. The unprecedented popularity is likely directly related to the terrorist attack two weeks ago that destroyed much of downtown Los Angeles and killed over 5,000. The Take Back America party is currently running on an anti-terrorism platform, even going so far as to promise to suspend habeas corpus if necessary...

And the polls have just closed in California, which means we can officially declare Marcus Perry your new president of the United States of America. We're making history right here, folks! This is the first time a third party candidate has won the White House. The Take Back America party was vaulted into first place in the polls after the devastating terrorist attack on Los Angeles only a month and a half ago...

Today, President Perry will take a long-awaited bill to the floor of Congress that would amend the Constitution to define marriage as between a man and a woman. This is right off the heels of last week's, also markedly conservative, social policy bill that placed heavy restrictions on women seeking protection from domestic violence...

In a shocking move condemned by the international community, US president Marcus Perry has moved to close all US borders...

Reports of police brutality have run rampant as the Take Back America from Take Back America protest held in Washington DC today ended in tear gas, pepper spray, hundreds of arrests, and dozens of hospital injuries for protesters...

President Perry proposed a bill today that would create a state-sponsored media network, replacing the current news agencies currently on air. Though the opposition claims this directly opposes the first amendment, Perry says he has enough votes to pass the bill...

In order to keep America safe from what he calls "immoral influences," President Perry has passed a plan that would call for the immediate relocation of the United States' homosexual population to various internment camps across the greater Southwest area. "It's to protect our children," the president said at a press conference this evening. "What's going to happen is- it's now a crime to be a homosexual in this country. And that's for the good of all of us. Anyone found to be breaking this law- found to be a homosexual- will suffer the severe consequences at a prison camp. After all, a little hard work does us all some good..."

"Kevin, you're hurting me."

"What?"

"You're hurting me. Your hand. It's cutting off my circulation."

"Oh. Sorry."

Kevin Price removes his hand from his boyfriend Connor's wrist. He takes Connor's hand into his own, rubbing at it gently.

"What are we going to do?"

Kevin shrugs. "I don't know."

Connor buries his face in Kevin's shoulder. "They're going to take us away."

"They can't."

"They can. They already are."

"Connor. Don't talk like that. It will be okay."

"Okay? Kevin, how the fuck is it okay that my government has just declared me illegal? That they're going to round me up for existing and tag me and strip me of my everything and tell me who I can't love and tell me I'm not a person- fuck, Kevin, it's not going to be okay."

"Don't curse, Connor, please."

"Don't tell me what to say. The government has just told you you don't deserve to be alive-"

"That's not what they said-"

"It's what they meant-"

"Connor, not now. Please."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"I don't know what we're going to do."

"Me neither."

Kevin places a light hand on the back of Connor's head, holding him uncomfortably to his chest. He looks desperately over at Arnold and Nabulungi, but much to his disappointment, they only stared back at him blankly. Arnold is fidgeting, casting his eyes about the room. Nabulungi has the saddest smile on her face.

They have no solutions. Only love.

"They are not having you," Nabulungi says. "I'm in charge of this house. And I do not let any stupid police in without my permission. But I think, as a precaution, maybe you could move to the basement for now. It will make you harder to find."

Kevin has one hand over Connor's mouth. He has another hand that Connor is using as a life preserver. It seems as if every crash and stomp he can hear upstairs is a wave ready to bring them under. Kevin is scared. He cannot ever remember being this scared.

Connor is frightened too, and that has manifested itself in little whimpers- the reasons Kevin's currently got his hand over Connor's mouth- and though each small cry puts them in danger, Kevin is sure his being 0.002 seconds from passing out is probably even worse for their precarious hiding place. Kevin is kneeling on the floor, and his knees are cold and sore, but he doesn't dare move. Not that there is anywhere to move- they're hiding in a some sort of secret room that might be here because long ago this was a hideout for spies or refugees or escaped slaves or any number of people- but thank goodness the room is here now because the hiding places in this house are few and far between.

The "secret room" is cramped and dark and has a chair that Kevin has valiantly given to Connor, and which Connor is, with his hand free hand- the one that is not crushing Kevin's own- gripping onto the arms like it is a life raft. Except, in the scenario in question, Connor's life raft is undoubtedly Kevin.

But enough with drowning metaphors, because there are no victims. Not yet. Kevin doesn't believe there ever will be. He believes that there is a God who is on his side- and if not on his side than on Connor's- and they will make it.

It's okay, Kevin mouths at Connor. Connor's head is bobbing up and down and the tears are falling. It's okay. It's okay. It'sokayit'sokayit'sokayit'sokay.

And Connor nods.

They can hear the crashes upstairs. It's policemen, with heavy guns and heavy boots, and they are tearing the house apart. Kevin can hear the pictures crashing to the floor, the sounds of furniture slamming into the walls. Perhaps they are looking for a secret passage, or two homosexuals curled up under the rug.

Kevin's mantra shifts slightly.

It'sokayIloveyouit'sokayIloveyouit'sokayit'sokayIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou.

They can hear the voices upstairs.

"We have information that there may be two homosexuals living here."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Nabulungi's voice is cold. Kevin wills her to sound more natural.

"You don't, huh?" Kevin pictures a bristly moustache leering down over Nabulungi's frightened face,

"No. No, sir. Just me and my- my Arnold, here, sir. There has never been anyone else living in this house. Don't you think I know? It's my house."

There is a silence.

"What about these records for the census four years ago, huh?

"What records?" Nabulungi's voice is shaking.

More silence. For some miraculous reason, there is no follow up. They were bluffing.

"Take us upstairs."

It's amazing how well Kevin can hear them, still. They are so far away.

He is so close.

He can hear yelling.

"No homosexuals, huh? What's this room for?"

"Please, it's the guest room-"

"And why are there clothes in the closet?"

Kevin thinks he might die.

"My father comes to stay here often." Arnold is speaking now. There is something about him that is so bumbling, so eager that it is impossible to believe he is a competent liar. Kevin thanks every God he knows that the police seem to have accepted this excuse.

"Your father wears a lot of purple," a voice says- a different one- but this is the last thing that is said. There's only the heavy tramping of footsteps, and the occasional thud as the party makes their way downstairs.

Kevin hears the door open. There is a soft cry- it sounds like Nabulungi- and a door slam and he believes that just maybe, it is time to start breathing again.

Kevin and Connor do not dare to move for another ten minutes. You never know when the monsters lurking in the shadows might come back.

It is fifteen minutes later when Nabulungi and Arnold descend the steps to the basement, coming to collect their boys.

Dinner that night is a solemn affair. Kevin can't stop looking over his shoulder.

Arnold is a good friend to Kevin- they have been best friends since Kevin accidentally got in the way of some boy's fist in fourth grade. Kevin said it was an accident, anyway. Perhaps he was just born to be a martyr.

But sometimes good friends must betray each other.

It is midnight when the conversation happens. Kevin is clutching his mug of tea like it is the answer to this crazy mess he is in. He is leaning towards Arnold, across the kitchen table, and has decided to whisper even though Connor and Nabulungi are both asleep.

"I need to leave," Kevin says. When a fascist police guard is knocking at your door ready to drag you away to prison camp, there is no time to waste words.

"What?"

"I need to go. Please. I need to get out of here."

"Why? We can keep you safe here- you know that, right? Nabbi and me? We can- did you hear us lie today? We're good at it, see! Kevin, you can't go. Where would you go?"

Kevin shrugs. "Away."

"Why?"

"Because Connor will be safer if I'm not here."

"Kevin! No! You don't know that."

"I do."

"He won't be."

"He will be."

"Barely any safer at all."

"A tiny bit safer is better than nothing."

"No."

Kevin threw up his hands. "Don't you get it? I don't care. I don't care if my leaving gives Connor a 1% better chance at survival or a 100% better chance. It's the same to me- it's worth it either way. I have to do whatever I can."

Arnold glared at him. "You're leaving us."

"I'm protecting you. Please, Arnold, just- just claim Connor is your cousin or something. I don't care. Take care of him for me."

"You can't do this."

"And you have to promise me you're not going to try and stop me when I leave."

"Where are you going to go?"

"Maybe my parents'. I don't know. But you can't stop me. And you can't tell Connor. He'll come after me. He'll be angry. I'm trying to keep him safe."

Arnold doesn't say anything.

"Promise me?"

Arnold nods, but he makes no such promise. His fingers are crossed.

And it is at exactly 2:35 in the morning that Arnold betrays his best friend of 15 years.

He tells Connor.

Connor is angry. Arnold knew he would be angry. And now Kevin will be angry at Arnold. But it is worth it, if it forces Kevin to stay.

Kevin is not the only one who can make unpopular decisions to save a friend.

Connor and Kevin are fighting before they even get out of bed that morning.

In all of Kevin's plans to keep Connor safe, he had forgotten to count amongst his assets, Connor's ability to yell and kick and scream and refuse to do anything he doesn't want to.

Connor is stubborn, and Connor is fighting.

"I thought we were a team," he tells Kevin, in lieu of "good morning". "We are a team."

"What are you talking about?"

"You were planning on leaving me."

The past tense does not go unnoticed.

"I- I- who told you that?"

Connor glares at him. "Kevin Price, I don't care if you knew for a fact leaving me would not only mean my survival but the end of the whole entire stupid government. You cannot leave me without my permission. It's not allowed. And I'm mad at you. For thinking about it."

"I was just trying to keep you safe."

Connor sighs. "I know that. And I'm displeased. Has it ever occurred to you that I, too, would risk everything you would? Because keeping you safe is my top priority?"

Kevin looks flustered. "It can't be. That's not fair! I can't be trying to keep you- we're working against each other- Connor- you can't- keeping you safe is my job- stop getting in the way-"

"Kevin."

"What?"

"Kevin, face it. I know you think you have the monopoly on love in this relationship. But- I love you so much. Just as much as you love me. Probably more. So I need to ask you a favor. I need you to not make any more plans without my permission."

"I'm going to do whatever I want to keep you-"

"No."

"-You are the only thing that matters-"

"Stop it. Please. We make our decisions together, okay? That's it. This is done. No one's leaving."

Kevin is a little bit relieved to have an excuse not to go. He does not think he could survive if the only time he saw Connor again was at an accidental-on-purpose occasional meeting Nabulungi had set up for them at the grocery store.

Connor and Kevin do not leave the house any more. They sleep in the basement, where it is cold.

Safety grows like mold on the walls. You cannot have them, it whispers.

Nabulungi is shaking at dinner that night.

"They're wiretapping the phones," she says.

Connor and Kevin turn pale.

Connor does not realize how easy it is to fall from one nightmare into another. He should have stayed asleep longer. At least, when you are sleeping, there is an escape route as easy as opening your eyes.

But when the crashing of the tiger's footsteps in his dream somehow turns into the real crashing of boots kicking down the front door, Connor wonders if there is anything he wouldn't give to be mauled by a tiger right now.

A gruesome fate, yes, but at least then Kevin would be safe.

It takes Connor a little longer than it should to understand what those crashing, stomping boots mean.

Connor is shaking Kevin awake. "Kev. Kev! Kevin! Kevin, get up. Please. Kevin, they're coming-"

"Huh?" Kevin is bleary-eyed with sleep, and Connor is desperate.

"Get up please. Do you think you can fit in that space over there? By the bookshelf?" His trembling voice betrays his attempts at staying calm.

"Connor?"

"Shhh. They're coming, love."

"Who?"

Kevin can hear the upstairs voices, now, and he knows they are not Nabulungi and Arnold. He pales.

"Stay calm," Connor orders. He wants to vomit. "Can you see if you can fit behind that bookshelf for me?"

"Where would you hide?" Kevin asks.

Connor looks at him, pleading.

"No." Kevin is firm. He is not leaving Connor exposed. He is not saving himself.

"We'll both be caught."

Kevin leans over Connor, grabbing onto his hands tightly. "We make our decisions together, remember?"

There is nothing left to do but wait.

Kevin huddles with Connor as they lie together, side by side on the floor, staring into each other's eyes.

Go away, Kevin thinks. Please, go away. I won't let you have him.

Connor's mind is blank. He cannot think anything.

"Hey, try downstairs!" They hear someone call.

Kevin moves over, hugging Connor tightly to his chest.

They wait.

The footsteps are getting closer.

"I love you."

"I love you, too. I love you more."

"In here, boys!"

Kevin buries his face in Connor's hair. "You are the strongest person I know," he whispers. "And I love you."

A light goes on.

A panel is kicked down.

Kevin flinches.

"Got them!" A voice crows. "Here they are, boys!"

Kevin squeezes Connor, rolling on top of him in hopes he can be a shield.

He feels himself being wrenched upward, and he hears a boot connect with Connor's nose. He cries out.

Kevin is thrown forward, into the wall. "Stay," a rough voice growls in his ear, and Kevin believes that maybe Connor will be spared the inevitable boot stomping on his arm if he listens.

So he waits, with his back to Connor, and he cannot see anything- his face is smashed into the dusty wood- and all he can hear is the struggle behind him, and it's too much, too much-

"Kevin," Connor whimpers. "Help me. Please."

And Kevin does give up on fighting his resolve then, and he turns around, and he sees Connor caught in some burly man's grasp, and he's a few inches off the ground, and he's kicking- he's so helpless-

Kevin reaches for him and is stopped, right then, by another man in a shiny guard uniform, who twists his hands behind his back, and forces him to watch Connor take blows to the legs to the chest, to the face-

"Connor!" Kevin cries, and he's rebuked with a "don't fucking talk"in his ear and he goes silent then and watches Connor fall to the ground as he, too, loses the fight.

Connor is pulled to his feet by his arms, and their captors waste no time securing Connor's hands behind his back.

"We got some fiesty ones," the man who is currently cutting off Kevin's circulation remarks. "Nice to see there's a couple with some fight left in them."

And it is then that Connor and Kevin are prodded and kicked up the stairs, out the door, and into the marked vans.

Kevin manages one last glance at the little yellow house they are leaving behind, and he can see- only for an instant- Nabulungi peering out the door, curls hanging limp.

He tries to mouth something at her but there is nothing to say.

And in the ride towards wherever, all Kevin Price can remember how to do is clutch at Connor's hand and wonder if Nabulungi has woken up Arnold yet.

He is sure she has. He does not know why it matters.

"You know, in a way, I'm glad this is all over," Connor says. They are in the back of a long, winding line at the entrance to the camp. Above them, a sign proclaims Work Is The Lord's Gift. Somewhere at the front of the line, men and women are registering their status as sexual deviants and receiving their prison housing assignments. It's a humiliating ritual. Connor doesn't dare to hold Kevin's hand.

Kevin looks at Connor for a long, confused moment. "Glad what's over? That we got- that we're here? That they found us? That they rounded us up and our new home is lined with barbed wire?"

"Yeah," Connor says. "I'm glad they found us. I've always hated the closet."

Kevin thinks Connor might have meant that as a joke, but it wasn't funny, and he doesn't laugh.

Kevin's first impression of the prison camp that is his new home is dust. The roads- not paved- are dusty and the solitary, one-story gray housing units are dusty and the barbed wire gates have accumulated so much dust they barely even glint in the sun.

And it is the dust that will get in Kevin's mouth as he works, the dust that will cause him to stop to catch his breath, the dust that will cause someone to come over and smack him, kick him- ask him why he isn't working, does he think this is for fun?

Kevin is put to work running all sorts of errands for the guards. It is a relatively cushy, high-up job so he supposes he should be happy, but it requires a lot of running and worse- a lot of time spent with the guards, who enjoy humiliating him when they can, calling him "girl" and "sweetheart" and the like.

He is given two meals a day and they are thin and tasteless, but he is not starving. He would probably beg if they asked him to because he is that hungry- but he is not starving. And, he hopes, he is too proud to beg.

But that is the thing about being stripped of your humanity- Kevin is not too proud for anything anymore. And when they place his meals on the ground, he scoops it up and eats it- dust and all.

He does not know what work Connor has been asked to do. Connor refuses to talk about it.

It is some sort of miracle, Kevin thinks, that he and Connor are sent to the same housing unit. Their beds are little metal frames with thin blankets and thinner sheets.

Connor sleeps on a top bunk. Kevin sleeps on bottom. They sharing housing with six other men- housing, but nothing more.

Kevin does not know one of these men's names. All he knows are the glares he receives from them each and every morning as he puts on his stock-issued stiff white pants.

At first he thought they glared because they were jealous- jealous that he, by some luck, got to stay with his boyfriend and they did not.

But Kevin was wrong. These are not men who want their boyfriends.

These are men who want to be free. And as far as they are concerned, if being gay led them here, it's being straight that will lead them out.

So when Connor, on the third day of their confinement, climbs out of his bed late at night and joins Kevin in his own space that is barely big enough for one, let alone two- these men notice. They notice, and they are scared. They wonder if maybe this display of affection- these two men sleeping with their arms around each other- will get them all in trouble. And they resent Connor and Kevin for it.

Connor does not want to get in trouble. But Kevin's cheek pressed against his, his fingers rubbing circles on his back- Connor will not give this up. He will let these men who do not understand him and openly distrust him get in trouble for that. Connor McKinley will not sleep alone.

"Do you think this will ever be over?" Connor asks one night as he lies on Kevin's chest. It's much too warm for any kind of contact, and much too cold to go without it.

"Of course. Don't you?"

"No."

Kevin ignores him. "And when it is, when we leave here, I'm going to take you to the beach. In Florida. And we're going to spend all day lying on towels and staring at the waves and we'll talk and talk and talk. And there will be stars at night and you and I will finally get to see them."

"I don't want that. I don't the beach. I don't want to lie around all day. When you have time for lying around, you have time for remembering. And I don't ever want to remember things."

"I won't let you remember things. Ever. I'll make you so deliriously happy, you'll never remember this. Not when I've got you buried up to your neck in the sand. Not when I've gotten the salt in your eyes and all through your hair until you can't get it out. This is a nightmare. But we'll wake up."

"I don't know. When you get out of here-"

"I thought you just said we weren't going to-"

"I said we. I meant we. But when you leave-"

"We."

"Fine. When we leave, we're going up in a hot air balloon. And never touching the ground again. It's awful down here."

Prison camp makes a liar out of Kevin Price. And in a way, Kevin's lies are no different than his government's. They both start out as promises.

It's a desperate night. Connor's sobs are muffled and raw. His hand grips Kevin's so tightly Kevin's afraid his own might fall off. And though Connor can feel the anger and annoyance and fear and terror radiating off every one of his bunk mates- the ones who have never once looked him in the eye- he cannot make himself stop. The tears fall and drench Kevin's only pajama shirt and Connor cries and wonders how he is able to mess up the only sleeping shirt Kevin owns. And he feels guilty, and stupid for feeling guilty over something so small, and so inexplicably useless that he's reduced to worrying about pajama shirts, that he cries harder and louder until everyone in the room is staring at him, and he knows they are a second away from reporting him to the guards, who will take him away from Kevin, and that will be it, it will be done-

And Kevin knows this too, so he has to do something, to calm Connor somehow, so he begins to lie. He promises and he whispers and he soothes and he lies.

"We're going to get out of here," Kevin whispers. It's a small one, to start with, and it may not even be a lie at all. Kevin doesn't know.

"This isn't forever. Connor. I promise. I love you and there is no prison on Earth that could force that out of me." This is not a lie. At least, Kevin doesn't think so. But he hasn't been to every prison on Earth, so he can't be sure.

"Things will go back to the way they were before." This is a lie. Kevin is sure of that. "You and I can go live in the country if you want. We can have lilacs at our front door. We can travel the world. We can eat baguette in Paris and dumplings in Beijing. We can fight over who will clear the dishes and smile at kids who come to our door on Halloween and laugh over ice cream at one in the morning." Connor is listening now, his sobs growing quieter, and Kevin's voice with it. This is not something their whole bunk should be able to hear.

"We can watch the moon- we can swing on the stars- we can dance around the galaxy. We can roll down hill after hill of dandelions. It's okay, Connor. It will be okay. Every day is not today. Today will be over tomorrow."

Connor nods, like maybe this makes sense somehow, and clutches at Kevin's shirt. They each know these words are lies. It does not stop them from believing. But they're beyond the point of believing for themselves. Kevin thinks if he pretends to believe, maybe Connor really will believe. And hope is a good gift.

Connor doesn't believe either, but he's not going to say so, because he believes that Kevin, at least, still has hope.

There is a paradox here, but no one has bothered to go looking for it.

Kevin is approached by a hulking sort of man as he slumps against the gray concrete to eat his dinner that night.

This man- Kevin doesn't know his name, what's the point?- seems to have shrunk in on himself. Kevin remembers seeing him around the first few weeks, when his skin was shiny and his belly, not swollen. Now his head is too large for his body and his eyes have taken on a desperate, hungry look.

Kevin is cornered, but he is not worried. The man may be taller than he is, but he is not stronger. No one is strong. Everyone is hungry.

And this man has decided that Kevin will starve tonight. Good people do bad things when they are hungry.

"Give me your bread," he says.

"What?" Kevin looks possessively down at the roll that's clenched in his hands.

"Your bread."

"No."

"I know what you do every night."

Kevin pales.

"You and that boy curled up together under the covers. I know. We all do. It's just the guards who don't know now, isn't it?"

Kevin does not want the guards to know. He hands the man bread.

"Your cheeks are getting hollow," Connor remarks to Kevin that night. "Your hair isn't soft anymore."

Kevin does not like fighting with Connor. He never has. He hates it now.

Connor is being stubborn.

Kevin does not want Connor to be stubborn. He wants Connor to survive.

Every day from 6 to 10 at night Connor attends what are called "Training Sessions" but that's really a nice way of saying "people make you repeat your sins until you have the doctrine of homophobia memorized and loving yourself is out of the question."

Connor is told to repeat bible verses. He is told to write essays expounding on the Lord's punishments for homosexuals. He is asked to feel guilty, and he is required to renounce his past ways.

Connor will not. He will not renounce Kevin. He will not renounce the only person he loves. He will not renounce his one grip on sanity.

Kevin pleads with him.

"You can't draw attention to yourself," he says. "The only way we're even still allowed to live in the same room as each other is we keep our heads down and we follow all the rules."

Kevin's lips are barely moving as he speaks. He is looking straight ahead, not at Connor. He does not want anyone to notice they are talking.

"They would take you away from me," Kevin adds. "If we want to get away with you crawling into my bed and sleeping next to me every night, we have to make them think they've won. So let them think it. I need you next to me tonight."

Connor swallows.

"Please," Kevin says. "I don't care what you tell them about me. Tell them I turned you from the righteous path of God or tell them I offered you the forbidden fruit or tell them you don't know what you ever saw in me or tell them that it is an abomination for man to lie with man- tell them what they need to hear so you can be back in my arms tonight."

Connor nods slowly. He will let them drill verses and speeches into his head. He will let the hateful, humiliating words come out his mouth.

What is a mouth, anyway? It's not a heart.

Kevin does not attend training sessions with Connor. And when Connor is forced to stand on that stage and drone on about how he hopes the government will accept his apology for his moral deviancy, he realizes this is the only time he is glad that Kevin is not by his side.

Connor remembers what the man growled in his ear last night.

"Hey, honey. I gotta recommendation for you. Tomorrow night- don't climb in that other boy's bed. Ya hear me? I'm done with going to bed every night terrified someone's gonna come in and get me in trouble over your worthless ass. So you stay away from him, and I'll stay away from you- but if I see you get close with him tonight again, boy, I promise that's the last you're gonna see of him. I know everyone else here's too scared to do something- I'm not. If you don't turn your behavior right around tonight, I'm telling the guards tomorrow. And then you'll never see that boy of yours again, huh? How about that?"

Connor McKinley will not sleep alone.

That night, after dinner, he tells a man at the gate that Prisoner H13745 is hiding magazines under his bed.

There is a fight that night, as the man gets dragged off to who knows where. He shoots an accusing glare in Connor's direction, but Connor knows he will not see him again.

And so Connor McKinley does not feel guilty.

There are rumors of rebellion.

Somebody has set off the fireworks. There is music that is loud and parties in full swing and people who are dancing in the street. Someone with a radio reports that the White House has been mobbed and people in Washington are climbing up lampposts, swinging off traffic lights.

The government has fallen.

Somebody has thrown open the gates to the prison.

"You're free," the man says, and it somehow reverberates through the whole camp.

Connor watches with some distaste as the men he has lived side by side with for the past six months scramble out the front.

Connor is glad he will never see these men again. He has survived this camp, and he is ashamed to have survived, and he is ashamed of what he has done to survive.

Mostly, Connor has wrapped himself in hatred- outwardly, he hates himself, and inwardly he hates everyone who has forced him to hate himself.

At one point, this was to stay alive. Now, Connor does not know if he can shed himself of this hatred.

He remembers the man he betrayed, and he hates himself, and he sits on the bare floor of his former housing unit, his knees up to his chest, and he rocks back and forth.

Kevin comes in and sits down. He places one hand across Connor's shoulders, and Connor fights the urge to throw it off. It is strange to realize no one will attack them for it now.

"Can we go?" Kevin asks.

"Please."

They pack what little they own, and they join the crowds pouring onto every street corner.

It is the first time in months that Kevin and Connor have gotten to see the stars.

But they do not look at the stars.

They do not look at the world, which has been hiding from them.

They stand outside the gates of their once-home, once-prison, and they do not look at all. They hug.

They stay locked in that embrace for a while. Kevin buries his face in Connor's shoulder, and Connor wonders if he can shelter Kevin from the man he fear's he's become.

Kevin and Connor do not join in the celebrations. Once, Kevin imagined the end- he imagined twirling Connor in a street ablaze with lights, and he imagined lifting him up and spinning him around, but he knows now that is not what will happen.

There is very little to celebrate when the only gift anyone has given you is your life. It's a regift, anyway, and the wrapping is kind of messy and the bow isn't in the right place.

Life is not such an easy gift after all.

Once they are home, Kevin and Connor are content to lie in bed all day, whispering to each other.

"I love you," they say. And this time, they are allowed to take it for granted, which seems like the greatest luxury in the world.

Each of them seems to have forgotten that there is more to life than whispering "I love you" and savoring it.

Nabulungi understands faster than the rest of them do.

Connor and Kevin are still trying to adjust- they have returned to work, and they work hard, throwing themselves into their dead-end jobs. Kevin as a waiter, Connor behind some counter counting out change.

They have lost their desire to do anything else- they work and they come home, they do not smile and they sleep a lot. Nabulungi and Arnold try taking them out- to a bar, to the park, to a baseball game, to the movies-

Connor and Kevin do not want to be around other people. They do not want company, other than the two friends who hid them in their basement for months on end.

Connor doesn't trust other people, and Kevin is tired just looking at them.

It breaks Nabulungi's heart, to see these two men forget everything but each other.

Each other is nice, but it's not a life.

So Nabulungi one day packs up the house.

"We're moving," she says.

No one argues. Connor has no energy for arguing. Kevin hates living in the place that was his first prison. He cannot tell Nabulungi this, but certainly she's noticed how he won't go in the basement any more.

And when Nabulungi brings them to some small house with a winding dirt path and a lawn large enough to be a football field- a house with lilacs growing in the windowboxes- she hopes that this will be enough to help Kevin and Connor forget.

And when Kevin stands on their front porch, arm around Connor's waist, he knows that he will never be able to forget.

But it's okay.

Because Connor is smiling.