A/N: Edited 8-12-2017.

Playlist: Magnets (feat. Lorde) - Disclosure

Disclaimer: Sutter/FX own SOA

I drove down the narrow streets of Oakland heading towards Berkeley. I'd spent the evening with my parents, having a nice family dinner. I felt bad for them from time to time because my brother moved out of state and I was always too busy with school. I only lived twenty minutes away and still couldn't find the time to visit them.

I still hadn't told them what I had planned for my final project. I was positive they'd disapprove. They weren't entirely pleased with my career choice in the first place. No need to give them premature heart-attacks because I was now a regular at one of the local prisons. It was hard not to tell them what my plan was, but they'd never understand my thought process.

I spent the entire evening skirting around the issue but was unable to fully get it off my mind. I'd been bugged by what my inmate had said before he left. I still couldn't shake the memory of his odd word choice. I felt like I knew what he'd meant by it and couldn't figure it out. I knew it was staring me in the face but didn't know where to find it.

I pulled onto my street and drove up the steep hill. If there was only one thing to complain about in the city, it'd be the damn hills everywhere. I found a parking spot a few doors down from the front of my building and expertly manoeuvered into the tight space along the curb. I got out of the car, locking it behind me. I stretched my arms over my head and yawned.

The lights in the front lobby were dim and yellow, making my fatigue an iota worse. I stopped in the small alcove where all the mailboxes were housed and opened mine up. I grabbed the letters and shuffled through them, while walking up the first flight of stairs. I rounded the corner, huffing at the mail in my hands; all bills. I reached my door and slide the key into the lock. I went to turn it but was stopped when the door pushed open by itself. I held my breath. Had I forgotten to lock the door before I left?

I pushed it open further peering in but didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. I shrugged and went in, kicking the door shut behind me. I dropped my keys in the bowl next to the door and plopped my bag down on the kitchen counter. I leaned back tucking my finger under the lip of the first envelope and tearing it open. I was pulling out the folded pieces of paper when everything went dark, a gloved hand covering my eyes.

"Don't move." A man's voice spoke from behind me.

I let out a whimper and his other hand clamped down around my mouth. My fight or flight instinct kicked in and I lifted my right foot before slamming it down on his.

He shoved me forward yelling, "Fuck!"

I stumbled to remain upright, grabbing onto the handle of the nearest drawer. I ripped open the drawer and grabbed a handful of random utensils. In one timely hurl, I threw the entire contents of the drawer at the man dressed in all black.

"Get out of my apartment!" I screeched, hoping that Charlie across the hall would hear and call the cops.

The man was advancing on me, both of us shuffling around my kitchen island. I continued to pick up and throw random objects at him.

"HELP!" I screamed relentlessly.

"Shut up!" He hissed.

At his demand I only got louder, "Help! INTRUDER! HELP ME!"

We both heard a door slam and the intruder decided I wasn't worth pursuing. He turned and booked it through my front door, ramming Charlie down into the floor.

"Charlie!" I yelled, worried for my neighbour.

Charlie scrambled to his feet, chasing after the man who'd broken into my apartment. Tina, the woman from a floor above, must have heard the commotion because she was leaning over the bannister shouting down to me.

"Elle! Is everything ok?"

I heard her voice in staccato, as if she was running down stairs. When she passed the threshold of my apartment I burst into tears, realizing I was now out of immediate danger. I sank down to the floor, in the middle of my living room, covering my face with my hands, letting violent sobs wrack through my body. Tina's slim arms slid around my shoulders and pulled me close to her chest.

"Don't worry hunny, we'll call the police." She cooed in my ear.

I only cried harder, now terrified of my own safe space. I'd never be able to sleep here again, not after this. I felt as Tina looked up at the sound of more feet rushing towards us.

"Elle?!" Charlie's voice echoed through the hallway.

He skid to a stop, seeing both Tina and I crumpled in a heap on my living room floor. I heard the loud beeps coming from a phone and then Charlie's voice.

"Hello? 911? I'd like to report a break and enter."

~(SOA)~

Hours later I was bleary eyed and drained to the point of exhaustion. The cops had shown up within minutes of Charlie's call. They'd taken statements from the three of us as well as were making their rounds through the building, disturbing the sleeping people, and asking for their statements.

While giving my account on the events I was forced to admit what I'd been doing in my spare time. I didn't want to say anything about Stockton, but they asked if I knew anyone who might have a reason to hurt me. I didn't think my inmate had any reason to target me but I had to be on the safe side. Charlie happened to be in the room when I had told the police about my visitation and from the look on his face, I didn't think we'd be going on that second date after all.

It was as if he'd decided it was my fault this happened. Or maybe he was angry that I didn't tell him about my project. There wasn't really any room to bring it up between all the making out and wine of our first date, but what can you do. It didn't take him long to leave my apartment and shut to door to his, the sound of him locking it loud enough to hear over all the commotion.

Tina gave me a small shrug, as if to apologize for his behaviour like it was her fault Charlie turned out to be a prejudiced asshole. Maybe she felt guilty because she ultimately introduced the two of us, but he was my neighbour, we'd have ran into each other at some point or another. I felt the urge to weep, probably more from fatigue than hurt, but Charlie's abrupt departure is what spurred the feeling initially. The police had even given me odd looks at the confession. It was as if they viewed me as a lesser person, knowing that I was visiting someone in prison of my own free will. I sighed unsure if I should bother continuing with my project topic.

"Ma'am?" The younger officer asked.

I looked up, dazed and shook my head, "Sorry, what did you say?"

"I asked if you had somewhere to stay." He repeated.

"Oh. Yeah. My parents live over in Oakland. I can stay with them." I answered.

He nodded and moved away, going back to his commanding officer and leaving me to collect my effects. As I wandered around my apartment, piling my toiletries, clothes, textbooks, camera, laptop, and the little things I thought I might need into a travel bag, I came across something strange. The garbage bin beside my desk had been dumped on its side and the contents all over the floor.

One piece of paper caught my eye. The crumpled up letter from the prison had been smoothed out and placed back on my desk. The intruder clearly thought that they needed to go through my trash and found that document important. I looked down at the letter and the name typed in bold face font:

Lowman, H.

"Oh my god." I gasped.

There it was, staring right at me. How had I not put it together before? Lowman, H. Lowman comma fucking H. Lowman, Happy. Happy Lowman. My inmate had told me his name. I snatched up the paper, stuffing it into my bag before making my way to the front where the officers were waiting for me. I informed them of the turned over waste basket and handed over my spare key.

"We'll be in touch Ms. Clarke." The CO addressed, "Shouldn't be more than a few days before you can be home again."

I gave him a tight smile and nodded. I doubt I'd feel safe enough to come home in a few days, even if they managed to catch the bastard. I'd always be afraid that someone would be waiting for me when I came home. Hopefully spending some time in my old room, at my parents place, would help me work through this. However, if it didn't, then I always had the option to break my lease and move. I made my way back down the stairs and out to where my car was parked. I guess I was going to be living at home again for a while. How was I going to explain this to my parents without them losing their minds?

~(SOA)~

The traffic on the way to Stockton was horrendous. That coupled with living back home with my parents had me thoroughly irritated by the time I'd reached the prison. I arrived with minutes to spare. The guards were bringing in the last bunch of girls through the gates when I showed up. I was rushed through, badge nearly thrown at me and my bag tossed into the bucket behind the reception counter. I hated that I was walking down the halls with the other women. I was not one of them, and not particularly in the mood to be associated with them and the vibe they were putting out there.

We were ushered through the door and told to sit in our respective seats. I was only just approaching our table when they started letting the inmates through the door. I pulled out my chair and sat turning to see Happy already half way to the table. I rubbed my hands over my face. When I got home I'd be taking a nice long bath, maybe even roll myself a joint to relieve some stress. Happy sat down, leaning backwards with his legs opened.

"You look like shit." He observed.

I narrowed my eyes at him, "It's nice to see you too."

I knew that my eyes were bloodshot, with large bags under them. It's hard to get a good night's sleep when less than a week ago your apartment had been broken into. I waited for some type of reaction but none came. I sighed, resting my elbows on the table and ducking my head down. I was tired and probably getting sick judging by the tickle forming in my throat. The drive out here had taken all my energy. I was in no mood to put up with Happy and his bullshit. I peeked up at my inmate, examining his unreadable expression. I needed to figure out if he was going to make these visits worth my while, or I was giving up on the whole initiative altogether.

"Look," I started, "I don't know that I can keep this up…"

He arched an eyebrow waiting for me to continue.

I sat up, staring him in the eyes, "The trip out here is taxing and to make that trek only to have you sit here in silence is pointless. If there's no reason for me to keep coming, let me know now and we'll call this our last visit."

He nodded his head as if he'd been mulling over my words. I reached up rubbed my eyes again, the exhaustion catching up with me.

"My Prez wants to meet you." He announced.

I furrowed my brow, "Your who? What?" I didn't understand what he was trying to say to me.

"Clay Morrow." He elaborated, "His visit rotation is on Wednesdays from 12 pm to 2 pm. He's requested your presence."

I heard the infliction he used when he used the operative word. He made it sound like it was a demand, like I had no choice but to show up.

"I'm sorry, but what makes you think, or your Prez for that matter, that I'd willingly waltz into another visit with a convict?" I asked, astonished at the request.

There were a few minutes of strained silence on his part. I could have mistaken his silence as normal but there was a tightening around his eyes that clued me in to the fact that I'd done something offensive. I raised an eyebrow in question, unsure of why there was a sudden tension between us. I decided to dig myself into an even deeper hole.

"I don't know the slightest thing about you, Happy." I stated, "You can't really think I'd readily show up to a private visitation with a convict I'd never met before by the request of another?"

He stared at me as his jaw clenched. I focused on him, reading his body language. Within minutes he'd gone from aloof to completely hostile. What was up with this guy? He sat up straighter his eyes boring into mine.

"We can always arrange for another nightly visit…" He spoke.

His tone was drenched in hatred and it made me shiver. He spoke in such a muted tone it literally sent terror flooding through my veins. I backed up in my chair, moving as far away from him as possible. His words took their time, but once they clicked in I felt ice in my stomach. How had he managed to have someone assault me in my own home? How had they found out where I lived?

"It was you?" I whispered.

He didn't answer just gave me a confirming gaze. The tears welled up in my eyes as I realized the unnecessary danger I'd put myself in. I sniffled and immediately wiped away the few tears that escaped. I was furious with myself. Why had I thought this was a good idea? What had I done to deserve the treatment this man was giving me? I pushed myself out of my chair violently and froze. I was debating about slapping him across the face but opted for the non-confrontational route. If I hit him there was no telling how he'd retaliate. I turned on my heel and ran to the guard standing at the main door.

"I would like to leave now, sir." I demanded.

Him and the other guards glanced from me to the inmate I'd been meeting. They all nodded and the guard opened the door for me. As I was walking through the threshold I heard that terrorizing voice raise over the noise, "Clay Morrow. Wednesday."

I fought the sob that worked its way up and raced to the exit. I needed to get out of here. I needed to take a moment to think through my options. The guard brought me to the exit and I thanked him before high-tailing it out of the prison like the devil was hot on my heels.