Brian was suffering far more than even his judge could have intended.

Soon after he had spoken to Oscar, the guards had switched. And, in the place of the former sleep-laden man, he was now being watched over by one who was awake and alert. The monastic solitary confinement intended for prisoners to undergo was being strictly enforced, though Brian very much doubted that the majority of them were reflecting on their 'crime' and 'behaviour' as they were expected to. Some sang out loud to themselves or others, and some just spoke to themselves extremely loudly; he had not a doubt in his mind that they were roundly punished for it. Brian was not a person given to high degree of verbosity, but the enforced, rigorous conditions that he was supposed to adhere to was taking a toll on even him; more so now that he had someone to talk to, and a very important topic to talk about.

Oscar was the beneficiary of certain privileges that Brian had noticed even before they had spoken; Oscar was given a certain amount of reading material, and it appeared that he was also given writing instruments, though Brian believed that what Oscar wrote seemed to be taken away from him on a daily basis. He hadn't cared enough about the matter before, and now that he was, his ability to ask questions was hampered by the design of those more powerful than him.

Of course, Brian's primary concern was none of these matters. He did not truly care as to which prisoners were contemplating the nature of their character and crime. He was only mildly curious as to why Oscar was allowed special privileges. All he truly wanted to know was about Justin; what did Oscar know?

That day, by Brian's count, he had completed approximately seven hours on the treadmill. Brian was used to hard work; he had been working since he was eleven years old. Now, however, he understood what the term 'hard labour' actually meant. Working the treadmill was painful work, though Brian thought it better than some of the other options available. By his estimation, he had climbed the equivalent of 12,000 vertical feet that day; Brian's only consolation was that the mill was not completely punitive, and was used to grind grain.

He had told Justin over and over and over again that he didn't love him; he had told Oscar that as well. And yet, during the interminable, silent day, and long hours of hard labour, it was the thought of Justin and their memories together that kept Brian sane. And when he lay down on the plank at night, it was not knowing what had happened to Justin since his sentencing that pushed Brian closer and closer towards insanity.

The prison was hard, but it was meant to be hard. It was Justin – the past, the future, the unknown – that was what was now dismantling him, slowly, taking his hands, his feet, his voice, his everything and reducing it all to a crystal blackness.

Two nights passed before Brian was given the opportunity to speak to Oscar again. They had a new guard; the man seemed young, possibly the same age as Brian. During his return from the forced trip to the chapel, Brian's cowl fell down by accident. The guard was surprised; he stared at Brian for too long before he quickly clamped the cowl over Brian's head. Prisoners were supposed to remain anonymous and unseen, to each other and to the guards. That was the whole purpose of the cloaks and hoods; by virtue of his accident, Brian knew he had earned himself an untold amount of punishment – more hours of back-breaking drudgery.

When no such punishment was forthcoming, Brian took a cautious gamble in assuming that there were now two guards during whose shifts rules could be broken.

"Oscar? Are you awake?"

There was a moment's silence before Brian received the whispered response. "How pleasant it is to hear someone call me by my name."

Brian sighed in silent relief that his fellow prisoner was not asleep.

"I think as you do; the new guard is safe. I spoke to him briefly as he took away my writing today; he seems to be from an Italian family. I do not think he is here to give trouble to prisoners and assert his power."

"Then we can continue our conversation from two nights ago."

"He waited until the trial was over."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You were asking about the younger Lord Taylor," Oscar stated, misunderstanding Brian's confusion.

He waited until the trial was over. It could mean so many different things, and many, many thoughts were milling around Brian's head; none of them were good. Justin waited…to do what? Go to St. Andrews? Accede to his parents' wishes and become someone he wasn't? Be with somebody else?

"What did he do? What did Justin wait to do? Did he leave the country?" As far as Brian was concerned, that was best thing Justin could have done for himself.

"You said he visited you daily while you were being held on remand?" Oscar asked quietly.

Brian knew better than to rush a man telling a story. "Every day."

"This may surprise you, but, I am envious of you, Brian Kinney."

Indeed, it did surprise Brian. He was so far beneath Oscar Wilde in talent, stature and circumstances of life, in spite of the fact that they were both presently sharing the same fate. Brian stated as much.

"Well, that may not quite be the case. You will no longer be a valet on an estate, but I will also no longer be a respected writer. We both of us have fallen from our positions of relative grace, but my fall has been steeper. But that is not the root of my envy. Lord Taylor visited you every day while you were in remand; Bosie visited me every day as well, while I was being held on remand. He made such grand talk then about what he was going to do, about what he wanted to do to set matters right. But someone always managed to convince him to act in his own best interests instead; sometimes it was I who made those arguments. He left the country, you know, to escape any possible persecution. I know that a lot of my friends did, and it was what would protect them…but they left me. He left me."

"We are both alone; that is the point of being in prison. The aim of those who profess moral superiority is to break our spirits by isolating us to the point of madness. Becoming envious and depressed is simply giving in to those who want to oppress you."

Oscar was silent for a brief period. "You are right, of course. But logic and reason do not rule in the domain of emotions. I have not heard from Bosie; I know not where he stands, except that it is not beside me. I do not defend my own conduct; I am simply speaking of my own unspeakable loneliness, and feeling of abandonment. You are wondering what happened to your Justin, and why I am speaking of my own troubles instead. I apologise for keeping you in suspense, but I could not – cannot – help but draw parallels between us. After your sentencing, after you were found guilty, your intimate friend did not leave the country. He did not cower under the weight of his parents demands. Your intimate friend turned himself over to the police once your future and fate was sealed. He admitted to gross indecency with another man; he has taken on for himself your own sentence."

"No! No, he cannot! That is not…No!" If ever Brian thought he would be pushed over the edge, this was the moment he thought that it may happen. Forced to whisper, forced to be on guard, unable to express himself the way he wished to was enough to drive a normal man wild. But that wasn't all. Justin had turned himself over to the police, turned himself in to face the same sentence of hard labour and solitary confinement as Brian. He was almost mad with frenzy, sadness and rage at the world.

If Brian was just barely managing to hold onto his sanity during his imprisonment, how could Justin possibly survive? Separated from his books, from his art, from people, from speaking…forced to work a treadmill, or a crank machine, or some form of labour that was even worse…

And for what? For not being able to remain silent while Brian took on punishment for the both of them. For being in love with Brian.

Brian felt the tears on his cheek. Not for the first time, he went over in his mind all the things he should have done differently to have avoided his present fate, except now, it was not only his fate, but the fate of the man that he had refused to admit that he was in love with.

"How can you possibly know this?" Brian hoped that Oscar was wrong, despite knowing that it was futile. This sounded much too much like something Justin would do, to turn himself in to the police even though there had been no accusations against him. Stupid and brave and idealistic and…oh, Justin.

"I knew of his trial as it happened, though it didn't catch anyone's attention as there was no need to prosecute him. He willingly admitted to the charge. I was informed by friends. The Lord and Lady Taylor did much to try and alter the outcome they say, but he was sentenced to four years of hard labour, on account of the confession. He was taken to Newgate."

"This? This is the reason you are envious of me? Prison has done more damage to your faculties than you realise," Brian said bitterly.

"One day, we will both be free to walk out of this stone prison, and only one of us will do that knowing there is a man out there who loves us enough to risk everything to do the right thing."

"That is cold comfort to me."

"It will be more, when it becomes the thing you hold on to, to get yourself through this ordeal, and it will be more, when it becomes the driving force for you to rebuild your life at the end of your sentence. But, I digress. I had said that there may be information that you viewed as good; I have not shared that with you yet."

"There can be nothing good to come out of this misery."

Oscar ignored Brian, and continued to speak. "You may not know this, but I was able to obtain a transfer to Reading from Wandsworth, due in no small part to the effort from a Member of Parliament I once knew – the MP Haldane. It is because of him that I am allowed to read and write while I suffer in here. When he visited me recently, he spoke of another prisoner's case that he had championed – the case of your friend Justin. He is being transferred to Reading as well."