SEPTEMBER 1st year
It is raining, when Barry steps out of Iron Heights for the first time in over seven years.
The late September air is cool and crisp and he keeps standing there, outside the high walls of the place he spent what feels like an eternity in, not sure where to go now.
He glances nervously over his shoulder but the guards are no longer there and the door, through which he has just left the prison, is once again closed.
The backpack he is carrying is light. There isn't much left of private belongings for him to own after more than half a decade. He isn't worried, not about any gone possessions, anyway.
Barry shoots another brief look over his shoulder, a bit worried that one of the guards would appear any moment again.
There is nobody, he is alone out here.
He decides to make his way over to the bus stop he can see not too far from where he is standing.
It is so odd being out here, on the other side of these huge walls, away from this horrible place. The relief he is feeling is immense and he silently prays to whatever god there is that this is really finally over.
There is nobody else around at the small unroofed stop and while there is a bench, he decides to keep standing. Today he is the only one who has been discharged, which gives him the possibility to enjoy the peace and quiet he hasn't had for years, at least until his ride would arrive.
Barry doesn't dare to look back again, the worry that all this could turn out to be a mistake and he would have to go back sits heavy in his stomach. Instead, he looks down the street, in the direction from which the bus is going to arrive, or at the ground, studying the dirty wet road.
The change for the ticket is in his trouser pocked and he firmly keeps a hand around it, a bit afraid that he could somehow lose it and then not be able to get away from here after all. He knows it is a silly notion but even so he can't help it.
His back is hurting quite badly again but the nausea that has been following him around for the last couple of days is finally starting to cease.
The rain gets stronger and he wonders how the others are and whether they know that he is discharged today or whether they even care.
Barry closes his eyes and enjoys the brief solitude, the feeling of the cool rain on his skin and the light patter of raindrops around him.
The first trip he has to do outside of the prison leads him to his parole officer.
Barry has met with Ms Jenkins already a handful of times before and like then, she doesn't seem at all that fond of the fact that she has gotten stuck with him as a parolee.
She is a very no-nonsense woman in her late fifties who keeps on making biting comments about his alleged crimes and tells him point-blank that she does not believe him able to stay out of prison for more than a few months. Barry doesn't argue with her, he feels mostly exhausted and confused and just wants to go somewhere he can rest.
Ms Jenkins gives him the address of his new living place, which turns out to be a small flat in a rundown apartment building at the western border area of the Keys.
The flat consists of three rooms, through which he gets a brief tour. He is so tired that he hardly picks up on what is said to him and he only follows the small woman who has introduced herself as his landlady quietly. The entrance door leads directly into the living area and main room of the small apartment and while it isn't exactly spacious it isn't small either. He is a bit taken aback by its size. After years being mostly confined to a 6 by 8 feet cell, it is a bit overwhelming to have so much space to himself again.
There is also a small kitchenette attached to the room and an old couch which looks like it probably hails from sometime around the mid-eighties.
The bedroom is smaller but it hold a full-sized bed, much to his surprise, even though it looks like its good days have long since passed. It takes up most of the space and there is just a small wardrobe squeezed in the remaining space next to the door.
The last room is a tiny bathroom that offers a shower, a toilet and a sink. The thought of being able to take a shower in private nearly chokes him up and he notices again how his landlady keeps glancing at him nervously as they make their way back to the entrance. He gives her a small smile but she only frowns and firmly tells him that the rent is going to be due on the first every month.
"This is no shelter, if you are unable to pay you will get kicked out. Do you understand?"
Barry nods quietly and locks the door after she has left. He takes his shoes off and goes straight to the small bathroom. His back is hurting badly enough by now that he has started to grow slightly nauseous again.
A slight shaking overcomes him as he pulls his shirt off and briefly views the mangled flesh in the mirror. He quickly turns away again.
After showering, he carefully dries the stiches and burns and applies the ointment he got from the prison's infirmary and takes the couple of pills they have given him. He knows that he shouldn't take them on an empty stomach but he feels too exhausted to leave and buy some food with the money he got from his parole officer. Instead, he decides to go to bed and sleep the rest of the day away.
The second day after his release he starts a job as a salesclerk in a small Asian grocery store about fifty minutes by bus from his flat. The store owner is a nice older Asian woman in her early seventies who introduces herself to him as Bo Ming.
Barry is caught off-guard by how kindly she treat him despite knowing that he is an ex-convict. She doesn't seem bothered by his stammer either and doesn't become irritated when he grows nervous enough while he has to interact with customers that he starts to make the stupidest mistakes. Instead, she simply stays at his side and helps him.
He quickly starts to treasure the time he spends in the little store.
It is within the first two days of him staying in the little apartment that it becomes apparent that the walls of his flat are not meant to be very soundproofed. They are thin enough that it becomes common place that he has trouble falling asleep due to how some of his neighbours don't seem to care that they aren't the only residents around.
His persisting nightmares aren't helping either. His dreams are a jumble of what has happened in the prison, of Michael and the other guards, and of things that lay much futher back. Sometimes, the judging and disappointed faces of his former friends mingle in with all the rest and follow him around in those dreams, as does their disgust, and Barry prefers not to try to go back to sleep those nights.
He feels very alone during these nights.
Barry starts sketching when he is not able to sleep. It is an old habit he hasn't pursued since his late teenage years and with all the free time at hand and nothing better to do it seems about as good as anything else.
The address Len gave him starts to come more and more often to his mind during these late hours. So does the other man himself.
Weeks turn into months and Barry's new live becomes once again routine.
January 1st year
Four months into his parole Barry finally decides to go to the address Len gave him.
He still has doubts about it and he isn't sure what he is promising himself from this but there aren't many people in his life anymore and he just feels so lonely at times. Aside from that, he hasn't seen the other man in quite a while and he is a bit curious how he is doing.
The address leads him to an apartment complex which isn't as seedy as his own but comes close. It is half an hour per public traffic away from his place. He checks the address two times before he enters through the open doorway.
The floor lights are working, even if they are rather dim for the most part. It still is a definitive improvement over his apartment building and he tries to concentrate on his steps as he climbs the stairs so that his nerves wouldn't get the better of him and succeed in getting him to turn around and leave.
There is no buzzer next to the plain looking door that shows a six below the spyhole and after hesitating for another moment he takes a calming breath and knocks.
A woman in her middle to late-thirties opens the door. She is pretty looking, rather curvy but not chubby and with long auburn hair. Her face appears a bit plump due to her full cheeks and she has very beautiful eyes, big and brown like the one of a fawn. She wears enough make-up that it together her a bit of a tacky look, though.
"What do you want?"
She is audible annoyed and it isn't hard to guess for Barry that he has disturbed her by something. Meeting this woman instead of Len has caught him completely off-guard and he isn't sure how to response. It doesn't help that he can feel how is throat is once again closing up on him.
"What is your problem? You are a bit slow or something?"
She gives him a rather impressive sneer and she doesn't seem so pretty anymore.
He swallows nervously before he starts to speak.
"N-no, s-s-sor-ry, I-I a-am l-look-king f-f-for a-a…"
Barry breaks off, uncertain what to call Len. He decides to ask her outright, seeing that he has already made enough of a fool of himself.
"I-is L-Len h-h-"
"For fuck's sake, if you get any slower you will start speaking backwards," she hisses and it is obvious that she is clearly irritated by him:" You are wasting my time, come back when you are able to get a freaking word out without sounding like a damn idiot."
Taken aback by that harsh words and the hostile demeanour, Barry can feel how his voice gives totally out on him. He wants to protest but doesn't get his vocals to works and the woman doesn't pay any mind to him anymore anyway. She has already turned away from him.
The door is shut in his face and Barry simply stares at it, uncertain what to do now.
Maybe he got the address wrong?
This woman is a total stranger to him and while Len mentioned something of a younger sister to him, he knows that she is supposed to be blond.
Feeling lost and really stupid, Barry turns back towards the direction he has come from. After giving the closed door one last glance, he starts to make his way back towards the staircase. As he does so he pulls the little scrap of paper out of his pocked and reads it once more. It is the right place which means that the other man has written down a false address and lied to him.
Of course he has, why wouldn't he? Barry grits his teeth and tries to ignore the painful pang in his chest. He is such an idiot, it is his own fault that he has gotten hurt by something like this. Why would he have expected anything else from him to begin with? Cold is a criminal, after all.
Barry has just reached the top of the stairs when he hears a door behind him open and the rather agitated voice from the woman he has met just a minute ago reaches his ears.
Surprised, he turns around and the heavy knot in his stomach starts to ease as he spots Len, who has stepped out of the apartment and is now standing in the shady lit floor.
Their eyes meet a second later and, contrary to his own, the other man's expression is calm and collected as usual and doesn't give away what he thinks of him turning up like this at his place. Still, Barry is pretty sure that he is surprised to see him.
Len beckons him back before he re-enters the apartment, all the while, the woman is speaking in a low but audibly sharp tone to him. She doesn't seem very happy about being disturbed by whatever they have been doing. By now, Barry has a rather good hunch of why she is there.
His assumption is confirmed when he reaches the entrance of the flat.
"So what?! You send me away because of that snip? You booked me for the whole night, Len! And look at that shitty weather outside! I am sure as hell not going to look for another john tonight just because you've forgotten that you have already something else planned!"
Feeling a lot like an unwelcome intruder, Barry has stopped at the door and is now watching the exchange with growing discomfort. The woman's big locks jump slightly as she angrily wavers her hands about and he notices how her cheek have become slightly flushed due to her anger.
"You get your damn money, Izzy, stop chewing my ear off," grunts Len and grabs his wallet from the back pocket of the faded jeans he is wearing.
The woman, Izzy, doesn't seem appeased by that and eyes the two one hundred dollar notes with open contempt before she snatches them and stuffs them into her purse.
"Fine, you want to spend your evening with that sissy-boy, be my guest. It is your loss, after all."
Izzy gives Len another hard look before turning around and walking towards the door. As she reaches Barry, she stops and eyes him for an unpleasant moment.
A rather nasty smile appears on her face as her gaze moves up to meet his after she has finished scrutinizing him.
"Mmh, you do look like someone who knows how to appreciate a good ride, Sweety, don't you?"
Barry flinches slightly and averts his eyes. A nauseating feeling starts to take hold of his stomach and he crosses his arms in front of his chest in a protective manner.
"Back off, Izzy," hisses Len and Barry watches how the woman turns towards the other man with a rather dark frown. She settles for a shrug in the end.
"I am going, I am going, don't get your panties in a bunch."
The look she gives Barry as she finally passes him and leaves is one of palpable dislike.
"Tata, sissy-boy."
The door shuts with a loud smack which causes him to jump slightly and he really hopes he isn't going to cross the way with that rude woman anytime soon again.
Barry reluctantly turns around to Len, feeling a bit uneasy as her words haven't just been crass but also very embarrassing.
A tense moment passes by in silence before Len smirks slightly and nods towards the couch behind him.
"Take a seat, I will grab you a beer."
He hesitates briefly before making his way over to the offered seating accommodation.
As he does so, he lets his eyes move through the flat that seems to be hardly bigger than his own and he can't help but wrinkle his nose as he picks up on the mess that greets him everywhere. It has probably been quite a while since someone took even just a duster to this place.
The couch looks old and worn out but is clean and comfortable enough as he sits down after he put two empty pizza boxes away. Seeing that the small couch table is stacked full with magazines, papers, empty beer bottles and something that looked a lot like blueprints, he simply put them on the ground next to his feet.
Out of the corner of his eyes he picks up on something glinting in the room lights and looks towards the cupboard closest to the one window in the room. His eyebrow rise when he sees part of what looks incredibly much like the Stanley cup peep out in between a mishmash of dirty laundry, books and other stuff.
How for Pete's sake did that thing come here?
Something cool and hard knocks slightly against his shoulder and causes him to freeze up in alarm.
"Relax, it's just a beer," Len meets Barry's embarrassed gaze calmly.
"Th-th-th-"
The flush on his face intensives when his voice still refuses to work and he breaks off, averting his eyes. Barry grabs the offered can and simply nods instead. He can feel the other man's gaze on him for a long moment afterwards before he also takes a seat on the couch. He is immensely grateful when Len leaves more than an arm's length space between them.
The familiar hissing sound of a beer can being opened fills the room for a second while he just holds onto his own. It is feels pleasantly cool in his hands.
"So," says Len after has taken another long swig of his beer:" You've decided to pass by."
Their eyes meet briefly when Barry glances at him before he turns back to the still unopened beer can and nods quietly. It hasn't been a question but he isn't really sure what else to do.
"Didn't thought you would."
The other man smirks in a way as if he has said something funny and Barry gives him a slightly wary look. Len notices it and shrugs but doesn't explain himself. It isn't really necessary. They had been fighting on the opposite end of the law for a long time, after all.
They fall quiet again for a while and while it isn't exactly comfortable, it isn't unpleasant either. Barry watches how the other man grabs the remote from amid the mess on the little table in front of them and turns the television on. The noise of some advertisement chases the silence away before Len changes the channel to a football game.
It is half-time right now and cheerleaders dance across the screen of the television in skimpy outfits and offering quite an impressive performance.
Barry's nerves start to settle down after some minutes when he realizes that the other man's focus is on the show right now. He isn't sure whether he should feel a bit annoyed by this or not. He settles for the later. One big worry has been, aside that Cold could react hostile to his visit or not be there at all, that they would just sit around in a tense and awkward silence before the other man would kick him out again. This doesn't seem to be something he has to worry about just yet.
The game is interesting enough even though Barry never has been a big football fan. It has been a while that he hasn't spent an evening alone. They don't talk but it is still nice to just have another person nearby, especially one he can feel no hostility coming from.
"You want something else?"
Barry, whose eyes have started to grow heavy, startles and his body tenses up nearly painfully for a second.
"I get another beer," explains Len when he meets his confused gaze and nods towards the still unopened can in his hand:" You want to stick with it or shall I grab you a coke?"
The notion of having something else but beer is tempting but he hasn't had one in an eternity and actually wants to drink it. His stomach has settled down again as well, therefore he shakes his head and gives the other man a nervous smile.
"I-I w-will s-stick w-with i-it b-b-but c-could I-I g-get a-a g-glas o-of w-w-wat-ter?"
Len nods and makes his way around the couch towards where his small kitchen is.
The game ends about forty minutes later and judging by the other man's lack of real reaction he doesn't seem to have been all that invested in it either. Barry, who has stopped following it a while ago, rubs his tired eyes and fights against the urge to yawn. The by now half empty can is warm in his hand and he lifts it up to his lips to take another small sip. It tastes rather nasty, now that it is no longer cold, but he doesn't like the notion of wasting it, especially after he has gotten it for free.
The TV is shut off and Len gets up to grab himself another beer. Barry declines when he asks him whether he want another one too.
"You don't have to finish it."
Len nods towards the can in his hand and judging by the look he gives it, it is obvious that he can imagine how it tastes by now.
"I-it i-is f-fine."
"It has to taste like piss by now."
Barry makes a face and gives the other man an annoyed look, which causes him to smirk slightly.
"Suit yourself."
He comes back with a fresh beer and a bag of pretzels and Barry's mouth immediately starts to water. Len doesn't miss his look and holds the bag towards him after he has opened it.
"Help yourself."
The smell of the snack causes Barry's stomach to growl embarrassingly loud and he feels his cheeks heat up before he grabs a handful and mutters his thanks. He expects the other man to comment on this, maybe make a quip about how thin he looks or whether he isn't able to buy himself any food. Len doesn't, though.
"Wanna play a game of poker?"
Surprised, Barry turns back to the other man.
"P-pok-ker?"
His face grows hot again as he listens to his bad stammer. He really hates this damn handicap so much at times like this.
"Yeah," agrees Len and doesn't seem faced by his speech impediment, which eases his nerves a bit.
At his hesitation to agree, the other man gives him a funny look.
"You know how to play?"
"N-n-no."
Barry shakes his head and is a bit amused by how incredulous his host seems by this piece of news for a second.
"N-n-not e-e-everyb-body c-can."
"No shit," snorts Len and gets up to get the cards. It is then that Barry remembers that you usually play for money as a wager in that game and his good mood drops.
"I-I d-d-don't h-have a-a-any m-money," he explains as Len comes back and quickly adds after he realizes how pathetic this has to sound:" F-f-for sp-spend-ding i-it o-o-on g-gambling, I-I m-mean."
The other man shrugs and nods towards the bag of pretzels while he starts to shuffle the cards.
"That will do just as fine."
They end up dividing the amount of the still nearly full bag of pretzels between them. Barry asks for three bowls where they can stash and place their token as he doesn't like the idea to simply put them on a couch he doesn't know what has happened on before. Len shoots him a somewhat exasperated look at that request but humours him.
"You have any idea of the rules?"
"N-no."
Barry watches how the other man shuffles the deck of cards again. It is obvious that he is quite familiar with this judging by how quick he is.
"It's a rather easy game," he starts and puts the cards down before he picks up a small stash and looks through them. A number of five cards are picked and he shows them to him.
"This hand is called a no pair, or a Queen High because your highest card would be the Queen. It is the lowest ranking hand you can get other than for another no pair with a High Card below the Queen."
Over the next five minutes, Len explains the different hands and couple of rules to him. Surprisingly enough, the game turns out to be really not all that difficult. The important thing is to keep a good poker face.
Barry, who has never really been a fan of games you need to place wages in, can't help but feel curious about it.
"I-I h-h-have t-to w-warn y-you, m-my p-p-poker f-face s-s-sucks."
He picks up the cards Len has dealt him and shoots the other man a slightly apologetic look.
"Everybody sucks at this game at first."
Len doesn't seem bothered and instead shuffles his cards around. His face is already giving nothing away.
Barry holds his tongue and doesn't inform him that he has never been any good to school his features and instead turns his attention back to his own hand. He has gotten three Jacks, which doesn't seem so bad.
Six games later, Len agrees with him wholeheartedly.
"You really should never play for actual money," he advises with a way too amused smirk as he grabs the pretzels from the token cup and puts them in his second one he had to get after he had filled the first one up.
"You wanna play another one?"
Frowning, Barry shoots him a dark look and shakes his head.
"N-n-no, th-thanks."
Right now, he doesn't think that he will ever try this stupid game again. It isn't as if Len hasn't been helpful or anything like that, he is even pretty sure that the other man went light on him. He even had a couple of really good hands but he still hasn't been able to win a single one. His own cup holds meagre five pretzels and he really thinks they would do more good in his stomach than squandered in another game he is undoubtedly going to lose as well.
Len grabs the empty plastic bag in which the snack has been stashed before and puts his wins back in before he gets up to probably grab himself another beer. Barry eyes the bag of pretzels he has left on the couch and wonders if the other man would mind if he takes another handful.
"Take the damn bag," tells him Len from the kitchen and startles Barry by doing so:" I opened them so that they would finally be gone, I hate that salty dry shit."
A part of him wants to protest and point out that he doesn't need charity but he is well aware of how stupid that would be.
"Th-thanks."
The other man only grunts in reply and turns up with another two bottles of cool beer a moment later.
Seeing how hungry he is, the pretzels are more than delicious and he quickly eats half of the bag before he has to stop because he starts to feel sick.
"You missed dinner today?"
"Y-yeah, I-I h-h-had t-t-to w-w-work b-b-bef-fore I-I c-c-came h-here," he answers nervously and hopes that the other man wouldn't inquire anymore. He is pretty sure that Len knows that he hasn't just missed dinner, he can see himself in the mirror every morning and is well aware of how gaunt and tired he looks.
Much to his relief, he seems to pick up on how uncomfortable this question has made him.
"So, you've stuck to the job those wankers got you after your release?"
It is audible what he thinks of that.
"Y-yes, i-i-it i-is b-bet-ter th-than n-n-noth-thing."
"You still don't seem to earn all that much."
Barry grits his teeth and glares at the other man.
"A-at l-l-least I-I a-a-am e-earning m-my i-inc-c-come."
As soon as the words has left his mouth, he is regretting them already. He doesn't want to start an argument or cause the other man to get angry. It has been a surprisingly pleasant evening so far and he doesn't want it to end with him being kicked out. Still, he sticks to his point seeing that he is getting by with legal work, no matter how meagre his income is.
Against his worry, Len simply snorts and gives him an incredulous look before he shakes his head.
"Fucking cape-"
"D-d-don't c-call m-me th-that!" hisses Barry furiously. His body tenses up on its own and he tries not to grimace as this causes a familiar pain in most of his limps to flare up again.
For a brief moment, Len seems taken aback by how angry he has gotten before he frowns and shrugs.
"Right, my bad."
Barry turns his gaze back on the cool can of beer he has been hand just a bit ago and marvels over how quickly his good mood has vanished again. He starts to regret to have come here after all. It has been a stupid idea, no matter how lonely he is.
"I-I th-think I-I sh-should g-g-go, i-it i-is a-alr-ready l-late."
Seeing that he hasn't a watch, he has no way to say what time it exactly is but he is sure that he has spent already a couple of hours here.
"Yeah," agrees the other man simply as he gets on his feet and sounds much less welcoming than before. Barry feels bad all of a sudden, like an ungrateful arse and tries to think of something to say after he has gotten up as well.
"Th-thanks f-f-for th-the b-b-beer a-and th-the p-p-p-"
A hot flush comes over his face again and he averts his eyes to the still unopened can of beer in his hand.
"Th-the s-snack," he finishes lamely.
"Sure," grunts Len and sounds very much like he doesn't really want to have him here anymore, which is surprisingly disconcerting. Despite that, he hasn't moved away from him nor tries to usher him towards the door.
"I-I…"
His throat feel dry and he coughs slightly.
"I-I r-really e-enj-joined th-the e-even-ning," he explains and glances to the other man who is watching him with a cool expression:" Th-thanks f-for t-taking th-the t-time. I-I… th-thanks."
His face has grown so uncomfortably hot by now that he is sure it is going to catch fire any moment now. He swiftly grabs his coat from the armrest of the couch, puts the can of beer on the counter of the couch table and turns around to leave.
"Wait."
Barry stops shortly before the door and turns around in apprehension to see the other man come up to him. Len offers him the half empty bag of pretzels and he gives it a surprised look.
"You've forgotten that."
For a second he wants to decline because he doesn't want to exploit the other man any more than he has already and he can't offer him anything in return. It seems that his thoughts are plain on his face as Len huffs in annoyance before he pushes the bag against his chest so that he automatically takes a hold of it.
"Just take it, I am glad that I am finally rid of it."
"Th-thank y-you."
Barry gives him an uncertain but grateful smile.
"M-mayb-be w-we…" he starts but stops himself when he realizes that it probably wouldn't be a good idea for them to meet again. The notion is saddening.
"Where did they put you?"
"Wh-what?"
"Where is your place?"
Barry isn't really sure whether he really wants to give his address away and hesitates for a long moment, which causes Len to sigh in annoyance.
"Look, you don't wanna tell me, that's fine."
"N-no," disagrees Barry much to his own surprise and swallows before he goes on:" Y-you h-h-have a-a p-p-pap-per o-or s-someth-thing f-for m-me t-to w-write i-i-it d-down o-on?"
It is clear that Len hasn't really expected him to agree and he studies him quietly for a second with an odd look Barry isn't sure how to interpret. Then, it is gone and the other man nods.
"Sure."
