I actually wrote this a couple months ago, but I just remembered it. I'm not sure if it belongs on its own entry, but it does make reference to "Cries Of A Madman", so I figured it would fit here.

I think that's what I'm going to turn this fic into - a collection of scenes with Mike and Mal in juvie. It's not leading up to anything plot wise and will be updated on a "when I have ideas" basis, so I'll always have it marked as Complete, but whenever I write a new piece, I'll add it. This is just an experiment, me trying to see how this goes over! I do enjoy writing Mal, so this might give me an excuse to do it more often. People ask me to continue this every once in a while, so even if it's not working toward a conclusion - if I ever did write a conclusion, it would probably be its own fic so that I never have to stop this one - I hope this satisfies!

Bright lights and loud voices assaulted Mike's senses as his consciousness returned to him. He took several rapid, shallow breaths as he tried to analyze all the input that hit his brain simultaneously. Where was he? The juvie mess hall. Still here. Not sure why he expected anything else. He'd probably be here forever. He deserved it, after what he did.

What Mal did-

No. What he did. Mike did it, as far as anyone else cared. His imaginary 'friends' were never an excuse.

So, what was happening in the mess hall? Mike tried to make the world slow down so he could think about it. People were standing around him and screaming, but with all that input at once, he couldn't understand a word. He tried clenching his fists, the start of a relaxation technique the doctors tried teaching him, but instead of pressing his nails into his palms, he felt his fingers press into flesh that wasn't his own. Mike focused his eyesight straight ahead and locked eyes with a terrified young man in the process of gripping Mike's wrists and trying to pull his hands off of his neck.

Mike screamed, a high-pitched sound that drowned out the shouts around him, and threw the young man to the floor. The world spun around Mike as phrases made themselves clear from the crowd.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"The freak is at it again!"

"Why is Mal still allowed to eat with us?! Didn't they already make it so he's not allowed to have a roommate anymore?"

"Someone call the guards!"

"I'm not calling, he'll come after me next if I do!"

Mike's stomach lurched as he staggered back from the crowd. He hunched over and gripped the edge of a table to keep his balance. Perhaps the only thing preventing him from puking into his uneaten dinner tray was Mal's refusal to eat leaving nothing for Mike to vomit in the first place.

Why'd you wake up?! yelled a voice inside Mike's brain. We were having so much fun!

"Wh… why…" Mike mumbled. To onlookers, it seemed as if he was asking the table for answers.

There was a strangler on the TV, and that kid interrupted me while I was trying to watch it. Thought it looked like a fun thing to do, that's why I was watching it, so I decided to try it out. It's so easy, too, and the guards can't stop me. They may not give us plastic ware anymore - shame, I wanted to see if you really can cut a man's heart out with a spoon - but it's not like they can take our hands away.

Mike ignored the voice in his head, the one he'd started calling "the malevolent one" after all the harmful thoughts it gave him, and instead focused on his arms. How long had he been asleep? His arms looked much different now than they did last time he'd seen them. Before, bruises and scratches lined them, but they predated his time in the facility and age had faded them considerably. But now, fresh bruises and cuts had been added to the collection. One cut was still fresh enough to bleed. Marks he'd never seen before also lined his arms. After taking a moment to think, he realized they looked like the impressions of teeth.

Who put those there? Other prisoners? Did Mal's victim fight back?

If you don't want me to scratch you up more, I suggest you get out of the way, Mike.

Mike took a deep breath and let the dark silence swallow him back up.

He probably didn't want to be awake for whatever came next anyway.