Day Twenty Seven

No one was to go anywhere alone. That rule had been in place before Jax got jumped but he still somehow ended up in line for a phone call by himself. As for who did the actual shiving, Clay had no one idea. There were only a handful of ethnic Russians in Stockton State and whether they had help from another group was yet to be determined. The AB were certainly no friends of the Sons, even if SOA had outed Zobelle as a rat. Most likely, they would have to wait for Jax to return to get that information. If any of them were still alive by that point, that is. They needed to settle this Russian beef, at least while over half the charter was in prison. Chibs would need to get a sit down with Putlova. Clay just had to figure out how to do that without killing any more members hurt.

Miriam Katz was another unknown. Clay had asked around and the doctor had a reputation for being rather draconian in her bedside manner. She didn't baby anyone, didn't prescribe unneeded drugs, especially of the narcotic variety, and she didn't like inmates faking injuries or illnesses just for a change in scenery. She would let you linger in the infirmary or sickbay while she finished paperwork and cleaned up but no extended rest time, unless of course it was medically necessary. Despite all this, Doctor Katz seemed to garner a strange degree of respect from the inmate population. Everyone knew what to expect from her and where she stood in the ever changing power dynamics of prison life. At the end of the day, the COs were not exactly reliable, even if they took your bribes. COs could be bought and their loyalty went to the highest bidder, and someone with deeper pockets could always come along and knock you down. But the only money Miriam Katz accepted came from the state department of corrections in the form of a biweekly paycheck. She wasn't one to look the other way, no matter how much money was waved in front of her. But she had let Clay use her phone. And he didn't even have to bargain.

The woman's principles had got her into trouble though. Her interference wasn't something the Russian Mafia would let slide, no matter how noble her intentions. They would feel the need to teach her a lesson, both as a form of retaliation for messing with their business and as insurance to prevent any future occurrences. The severity of that lesson depended on Miriam's willingness to conform her behavior. At the same time, Clay himself was having trouble deciding what to do about her actions. If the roles were reserved and it had been them attempting to jump the Russians in the infirmary, Miriam Katz would have acted in the same manner. She had no loyalty to the Sons of Anarchy. She didn't have any loyalty to anyone else either. Just her moral compass which seemed to be a carbon copy of the prison employee handbook. But she had let Clay use her phone. There was room there for them to work together, he determined; how much room though, Clay wasn't sure yet. Of course, that was if the Russians didn't get to her first.

Bobby was thinking the same thing. "So, how long before the doc gets sent to the gulag?" He asked as they sat together at breakfast the day after Jax's attack.

"You think they'll really off the one doctor this place has?" Juice questioned, inspecting the yellow substance meant to be eggs with his fork.

"Pretty sure the Russians don't take too kindly to women interfering with their business." Bobby said between bites of toast. "Either they'll offer her a deal she can't refuse or cut right to the chase and she'll be six feet under before the week is out."

"Either way, it's bad news for us." Clay said. The infirmary and sickbay were the least secure areas of the prison. It wasn't uncommon for prisoners to be left alone together, unsupervised for a fair amount of time. Miriam was right when she said she was charge of everything in those spaces. She could kick COs out of an observation room, and even the infirmary as a whole. She determined how long an inmate was there. She could even have inmates sent to ad seg, if a medical condition warranted it. Depending on her inclination, she could be a friend or foe to anyone who wanted to do something nefarious behind bars.

"Alexei!" Officer Weaver called out from his place by the hallway that went towards the administrative offices. "Infirmary! Now." A short, stocky man covered in tattoos rose from the table in the back and made his way over to Weaver, his fellow Russians barely concealing their smirks.

Tig's brows furrowed. "That's not the type of guy you send if you wanna have a discussion."

Happy used the distraction to swipe Tig's toast. He didn't pay Weaver nor Ivo Alexei a second glance as he took a bite of the slightly burnt piece of bread. Miriam Katz had dug her grave and now she going to have to lie in it. All Happy Lowman had to do was finish his breakfast and suppress the need to bloody his knuckles again.

Miriam was fives minutes away from the end of her nearly 20 hour shift. Thankfully, no more bloodied bodies had been carried in and the work was relatively light. She even managed to get a decent amount of sleep overnight, even if it was on the folding cot in her office. But she needed a shower and a warm meal that didn't come out of a microwave.

She was restocking gloves and cotton balls when Officer Weaver escorted Ivo Alexei into the infirmary, heading straight for the empty observation room. She had sent Willington down to the sickbay in B wing to deal with a reported case of kidney stones and Conner was on medication duty. Once again, Miriam found herself alone in the infirmary, Clay Morrow's words ringing in her head. She watched Weaver leave Alexei in the observation room and walk back out again. "He doesn't have an appointment." Miriam stated.

Weaver didn't stop walking. "He said he's having stomach pains."

"So, why isn't he in sickbay?" Miriam asked, now looking at Weaver's back as he headed out of the exit.

"Thought I'd do you a favor and bring him here." Weaver called over his shoulder. "Save you the walk, doc."

For the second time in one shift, Miriam huffed and put her hands on her hips. Throwing on her now clean white coat and making certain the panic button she had never had to use hung around her neck, Miriam headed towards the observation room. She entered, leaving the door open, to find Alexei resting on the far bed. He remained seated as Miriam washed her hands and pulled on a pair of gloves. Nothing out of the ordinary so far.

"What's the problem?" Miriam asked, not taking her eyes off the bed and its occupant. He gave no answer, he simply started at her with an expressionless face. If Ivo Alexei spoke English, he never did so in front of Miriam. "The CO said you were having stomach pains?" Alexei nodded then, spoke some words in Russian and gestured towards his stomach. "Right," Miriam muttered. She grabbed a stethoscope from the nearby desk and moved to the bed. "Lift up your shirt -"

Hands collapsed on her throat, jerking her forward. Dropping the stethoscope, Miriam acted more with instinct than with anything she learned from a half dozen self-defense classes she had attended throughout her life. First she clawed at Alexei's hands, trying to pry them off her throat where they were threatening to crush her trachea. When that failed, she decided to take advantage of their close proximity and punch him in the face. Her fist landed just below his left eye and he dropped her, having been caught off guard. Miriam's head nearly bounced off the tile floor as her body collapsed to the ground. She quickly pressed the panic button that hung around her neck and she heard it beep signaling that it was activated. Now every CO on duty was alerted to her location and that there was a dangerous situation occurring. Not even Weaver could cover that up. But the panic button didn't protect her from the kick that landed in her stomach. If she had ate breakfast, it would have reappeared on the floor.

Miriam rolled onto her back and kicked out, aiming for the man's knees. Despite the horrible angle, the resulting pain at the realignment of his joint was enough for Miriam to climb to her feet and make for the door. She had got lucky. Lucky that Ivo Alexei wasn't that fast on his feet. And lucky that Officer Pierce had too decided to bypass the sickbay and escort Happy Lowman straight to the infirmary after he nearly vomited on Donovan's shoes at the end of breakfast. They were only feet away from the infirmary guard station with the beeper on Pierce's hip went off, signalling a medical personnel was in danger. Her location was announced over the radio a few second later. Whoever was supposed to be on duty at the guard station wasn't there and so Happy had gotten handcuffed to the gate that separated the infirmary from the rest of the prison and abandoned as Pierce ran off in search of Miriam.

Miriam didn't see Pierce before she barrelled into him, stopping her flight from Ivo Alexei and the infirmary. More COs appeared then, including Weaver, and the situation was brought under control. Miriam was escorted to the warden office as Alexei was taken to the SHU. Happy was taken back to gen pop after he insisted he was feeling fine.

News of the attack on Miriam had spread and by yard time, it was all everyone was talking about. The vomit trick had been Tig's idea but he had complained that he didn't have the stomach control for it. So, Happy had stuffed the runny eggs into his mouth and chugged the watered down orange juice before walking over to a CO to complain about his stomach. What came back up was a gross chunky mess of yellow and Happy was thankful he managed to miss getting any of it on himself. And either Ivo Alexei was incompetent or Miriam Katz was extremely lucky, because the doctor had managed to survive a hit on her life without losing any blood at all. Rumor was that Ivo would be spending the next eight months in solidarity. Roughing up a CO was one thing, but laying hands on a medical personnel was a big no-no.

Clay couldn't help but wonder whether this was enough for Miriam to rethink her attitude. She had remained strong in the face of verbal threats from a CO but would violence from an inmate be too much for her? The Russians could always try again, but he figured they would most likely wait before making another move, hoping the lesson was learned. Chibs was set to visit later today, and Clay hoped the Scot had managed to get some information on the doctor, despite the short notice.

Looking down at his bad hand, which was now prone to fits of shaking, Clay wished he had accepted the cortisone shot. It might have been his once chance to get one while inside. "Mr. Morrow?" he heard a voice call from behind him. He turned from his position atop their usually picnic table to see Miriam Katz standing by the outer of the two fences that separated the yard from the employee pathway that led around to the main entrance. She was wearing the same clothes he had last seen her in, only now with a dark green cardigan and a messenger bag which Clay assumed acted as her purse. Her pony tail was barely standing and even from this distance, Clay could tell she was exhausted. "Can I talk with you a minute?" She asked when he didn't move from the table.

Slightly unsure if talking to the prison doctor through a fence was something that could get him in trouble with a CO, Clay made the walk over. Tig, always a sergeant-at-arms, followed. "How can I help you, doc?" He asked, taking in the slight bruising around her slender neck.

The doctor looked uncertain for a moment. "I assume you heard what happened?"

Clay nodded. "About your little run in with Ivan Drago? Yeah, we heard. Don't tell me you're surprised?"

Her face turned sour. "Pardon me for being surprised when someone tries to strangle me."

"You look okay to me." He considered her for a moment more. "You didn't say anything, did you?"

"About yesterday? No. I told the warden that Alexei attacked me, not why." She adjusted the strap of her bag.

"So, what are you going to do now?" Clay asked, aware that she had walked here to ask something of him.

"The warden is forcing me to take a few days vacation. I should be back Tuesday." Clay noticed her eyes scan the area, looking for any possible eavesdroppers. "I guess, I was wondering if I had anything to be worried about, you know, out here." Miriam gestured vaguely in the direction of the parking lot but Clay knew what she meant. She was worried about being attacked on the outside. And Clay knew she had reason to be concerned.

"Do you own a gun?" He asked bluntly.

"What? No. Do I need one?"

Clay looked to Tig then for a second, who nodded. "You might see some guys on motorcycles outside your home. Don't worry about them; they're just there to watch over you." He stepped back from the fence, ready to be finished with this conversation before a CO got suspicious.

"I-what-no, wait. What does that mean, goddammit?" She nearly shouted when she noticed he was about to walk away.

"Take care, doc." Clay called over his shoulder without much of a last look at the disgruntled woman who was now stomping away from the fence as well.

Tig, as always, was looking. "I knew she had a great ass."