Authors Note: Many thanks to thequillofdestiny for reviewing! And sorry, but Ike won't be showing up until the next chapter... but he will be showing up!

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The boy was shaking but if he hadn't been, it would have been suspicious. Tweek Tweak was a skinny mass of ticks, twitches and neurosis, all things that ensured he was kept far away from most operations required by Cartman's lackeys. There was no way he could have been a soldier – his poor motor control alone meant he'd be more likely to shoot the man next to him than any target and also, he tended to shriek when he he was startled, or when he heard loud noises, a definite no-no when he was likely to be shot at. Working in the medical field was out too, since high-pressure situations sent him into frozen panic (bad) or running-away-screaming panic (worse). He was an adequate cook, adequate at computers, but his outbursts made him far from reliable and tended to distract other people. No one had as yet dared to let him behind the wheel of a vehicle.

Oddly enough, it was his healthy paranoid streak that made him ideal for the place he eventually ended up; the detention cells. Not as a prisoner, but as a lower-order guard, the one who delivered meagre meals to the few inmates, made sure nothing strange was going on. It was his insane paranoia that ensured he never thoughtlessly entered a cell to aid a prisoner in case of dramatic collapse or theatrical agony, summoning two or three of the soldiers standing guard nearby and letting them take the responsibility. Tweek was afraid when that kind of thing happened that someone was going to die, but even more afraid of what would happen if it was a trick and someone escaped.

Not that there were very many prisoners at any given time. Occasionally there were soldiers that had screwed up in some way, pissed Cartman off. Tweek never found out what happened to them when they left his cell block, if they were transferred elsewhere, or if they were allowed back to their duties with punishment served – or something else. Occasionally there was a member of the Resistance captured, but they never stayed around long. Tweek didn't need to wonder about what happened to them; he already knew. Dumped in the cells either to regain consciousness or to get good and scared, then away to be interrogated. And once that was over, terminated.

But that had all changed once Craig had arrived.

Tweek had never known a member of the Resistance being returned to the cells after interrogation and he'd never had a prisoner longer than seven weeks. Yet Craig lingered for five months seemingly without purpose. He hadn't talked, that much Tweek had realised from the conversations of the armed guards. Yet it wasn't like Cartman to have people hanging around for bargaining or blackmail needs.

All had become clear when the Head of Security had invited him for a coffee after his shift had ended. Mills had been living in Denver when Cartman's forces had swept through it, electing to join the invaders rather than try to repel them. The rumour was that he had been dishonourably discharged from the US Army and seen the act as fine revenge. Tweek was inclined to believe it. The man had to be in his mid-fifties but fitter and more muscular than most men half that age, wiry and yet strong, with a bald pate that glimmered when the light caught it and eyes that were almost colourless. He gave Tweek the creeps and would have been happy to have never caught his attention.

Mills had served up good, strong coffee, not the usual instant blend that was the only thing available to the underlings on the base. Tweek recognised it as a luxury supermarket brand that had been gaining popularity largely thanks to a heavily sexual TV campaign just before the shit hit the fan. He supposed Mills was trying to get him on side – his need for caffeine was something of a joke among the other soldiers – but in truth, it irritated him. After years of only the cheap stuff, it should have hit his system like a runaway locomotive. It probably would have done too, if he hadn't been exchanging what little information he had for coffee for several years. Finding a decent cup after years of crap had been worth the risk and no one ever suspected that twitchy little Tweek would play double agent.

And the coffee hadn't even been the main thing. It was nice to think that in some small way, he was hitting back at Cartman.

"You were in school with Eric, weren't you Tweek?" asked Mills as he placed a second steaming cup in front of the boy. He had swallowed the first one in a couple of gulps but it hadn't done a thing to calm him.

"GAH! Uh, yes!"

"Interesting class that one. Eric of course, and Professor Chaos. And your prisoner I believe."

Tweek clutched the cup with both hands, trying to meet Mills eyes, but unable. His stare reminded him of a desert lizard eyeing a particularly appetising beetle seconds before it flicked out its tongue and dragged the hapless insect to its doom.

Mills pressed the point. "Were you friends with this Tucker?"

"I – gnk – no! I mean, sorta. Yeah. N-not really." What was the right answer? If he said they barely knew each other, Cartman might have already said they hung out sometimes and Mills would know he was lying. But if he said they were friends, then Mills might think he was part of some elaborate plan and they would find out all about the coffee and the Mole and the Resistance and then he'd get put in a cell too and tortured and it wasn't even as if he knew anything and it was all too much pressure and...

"I was..."

"GAH! GAH!!" Tweek jerked, hitting the cup and knocking the coffee flying off the table, shattering the mug and leaving a brown stain over the floor. "Shit! GAH! Shit!"

"Calm down son. It's nothing to worry about. It's maybe a bit stronger than you're used to." Mills stood and poured Tweek another cup, putting it in front of the boy before dealing with the pieces of porcelain on the floor. His fussy carefulness and occasional black scowls made Tweek think that maybe Mills had read about being nice, but never tried it himself before now and was finding it hard going.

"I was just going to say that maybe you should try talking to Craig," said Mills, depositing the broken pieces on the table and sitting opposite Tweek again. His voice was mild, but his eyes were boring into the boy, missing nothing. "If you could gain his trust, he might let slip something that could be useful to us."

Tweek's left eye began to spasm but before he could go into a full-blown twitch attack, Mills raised a hand. "No pressure, if that's what you're worried about. If he says something, that's excellent, but if he doesn't then we're no worse off than we are now. Just start a dialogue and see where it goes."

Not two minutes after saying he'd try, Tweek was ushered from the room by Mills, the remaining half-jar of coffee in his hand as if some kind of reward for selling out. It was about that point where Tweek stopped feeling mild terror and began to get pissed off.

Still, he had tried to engage Craig in friendly conversation, if only so as not to arouse Mills suspicions. Craig steadfastly refused to reply, flipping him off whenever Tweek stammered some comment about the weather or the state of the food. That was just fine with Tweek. As long as he knew nothing, he couldn't harm the Resistance any and he didn't have to stay up all night wondering if Mills had overheard the information and wondered why it hadn't been reported back to him.

And then he had let his guard down and now he was in big trouble.

It had been so stupid really. There were no other prisoners apart from Craig and Tweek had got used to holding a one-sided conversation with the silent teen. The solitary meal Craig was allowed was bland and unappetising, since an undernourished prisoner was less likely to cause trouble, usually served with a plastic beaker of water expected to last the whole day – there was no sink in the cell to refill it and the less said about the bathroom conditions the better – but on this day, Tweek had brought in an extra cardboard cup and made Craig a cup of the instant muck they insisted on calling coffee in here. It might brighten his day a little and the best part was, if anyone got suspicious about it, he could always say it was a part of his plan to get Craig to trust him. There was always the worrying possibility that Craig would start to trust him, but that was about as likely as anyone noticing him adding the coffee to the tray in the first place. He deemed it an acceptable risk.

He had been taking a lot more 'acceptable risks' of late. A large part of him panicked about this, wondering if he was misjudging things, if they were watching him and noticing that he was acting strangely. But the part of him that took those risks pushed those thoughts away until after the fact.

As he opened the hatch and shoved the tray through into the holding area – Cartman had watched 'Silence of the Lambs' far too often and the cells were identical to the ones on the film – Craig rolled over on the bunk, eyeing the cardboard container with some curiosity but making no move to get the tray.

"I – gnk – thought you might like some coffee," said Tweek as conversationally as he was able. Craig raised his eyebrows without speaking or even flipping him off and Tweek grew more nervous. He began to have visions of the guards racing into the cells and dragging him away, shouting that they knew all about him giving the prisoner coffee and that meant he was collaborating with the enemy and then maybe they would pistol whip him...

"GAH!"

Craig stared and Tweek tried to pretend he wasn't panicking over something as small as coffee. "I mean it's – gah – just the instant stuff they give us here, not like the rich roast you have at the MMMPHH!"

Tweek clapped both hands over his mouth to stop the words escaping, his entire body becoming one giant twitch as he realised he had just confessed to anyone listening he knew what brand of coffee they drank in the secret hidden Rebel base. He whipped his head from side to side, waiting for the soldiers to storm in and pounce. But the doors remained closed and locked; the cameras fortunately without sound and anyone watching presuming that Tweek was just being – well, Tweek.

Craig rapidly began putting together the little signs, the way Tweek tried to talk in ways that didn't really allow for honest answers, all the times back at base when Pip and Token went to meet their informant with cigarettes and coffee as payment, the information they had come back with mostly gossip and speculation gained from overhearing the guards. It was all he could do to keep from laughing out loud as he made the connection and it was only Tweek's anguished expression and the knowledge that the safety of both of them relied on them acting as if nothing had changed that stopped him. He had no idea how closely they were being monitored, but he was taking no chances; he had to cover for Tweek and quickly before anyone listening realised that something important had been said.

Leaping off the bunk, Craig strode over to the tray and picked up the coffee, eyeing the cardboard carton with fake suspicion. "You snuck me in coffee huh? And I thought the gnomes carried away your balls with your underpants."

"The gnomes can't – gnk – can't get in. No one can get in..." Or out, Tweek had meant to say but stopped himself. He thought it might be a good idea to just shut up.

One hand curled around the cardboard coffee cup, Craig used the other hand to flip Tweek off, but instead of his usual expressionless glare, there was a smirk on his face. The message was received loud and clear; Craig knew exactly who had been giving information to the Resistance.

Tweek bolted.

He spent several long days and sleepless nights wondering what the hell he was going to do. Craig could give him away in an instant, inform someone of Tweek's betrayal and that would be the end of everything. Even if he didn't mean to, Cartman might decide to try interrogating him again and Tweek knew that was just another word for torture and Craig could give in and tell them about Tweek and then they would torture him too and pull out his fingernails and jam sticks in his pee-hole and and then he might tell them about the Mole and it was way too much pressure!

There was only one way out of the situation as far as Tweek could see; he had to make sure that Craig was never able to tell anyone else what he knew. Which just added a whole new set of problems. He couldn't kill Craig – he might be able to make it look like the teen was trying to escape, but it was still a bit drastic, not to mention cowardly. Instead, he would have to make sure Craig wasn't around to tell anyone.

In short, he was going to have to help Craig escape.

The thought of such overt rebellion gave Tweek a panic attack of epic proportions the first time it occurred, fortunately he was in his own quarters at the time and didn't have an audience. As he gave it more thought, he decided there was no way. He would just have to hope that Craig wouldn't say anything and if he managed to keep the Rebels secrets, why not Tweek's? Anyway, no one had shown an interest in Craig for months, he probably wouldn't get the chance to tell anyone even if he wanted to.

But once the idea of aiding an escape had been given space in his mind, he couldn't shake it. There had never been the opportunity before and so he had never considered it, but now there was time to plan, few guards aside from Tweek and them mostly outside the cell block, the lack of escape attempts had lulled everyone into a sense of security. The more he turned it over in his mind, the clearer he could see pulling it off – and the more his nervous jitters acted up.

He was scared. Shit, he was so scared.

And he knew he could get Craig out of the cells and back to the Rebels. He knew that his idly-conceived plan could work. He knew that the Mole could help him.

Which was why, when he left off his shift in the prison cell, he left his replacement a full pot of coffee laced with enough sleeping pills to knock an elephant on its backside.

There were three regular guards, each doing eight hour shifts, a couple of floaters when they were called away. Tweek's shift was midday until eight. The stronghold was quietest around ten. The middle of the night meant an increased perimeter guard presence, earlier and they ran the risk of meeting someone who knew them.

Tweek occasionally returned to the cells once his shift was finished to play cards with a couple of the other guys who worked in the cells, so he didn't attract undue attention when he was seen in the area once he was done for the day. He nodded to a couple of guards he knew, sending up a little prayer of thanks that there were so many soldiers that no one knew everyone. It made his life slightly easier. There was no game planned that night, so Tweek was pretty sure there would be only one guard within the cells themselves. Outside, there were usually two guys but he knew they weren't above coming into the cells themselves to grab a cup of coffee – it was a boring job with little happening, but Tweek suspected the caffeine wouldn't be helping them stay awake tonight.

It was just after ten that Tweek crept into the cells. The two guards outside were leaning against the wall, alseep on their feet and the guard inside was snoring, showing that Tweek's plan had worked just fine up until now. Carefully, he headed to Craig's cell. Just because the guards watching the cameras expected nothing didn't mean they weren't on full alert. Although Tweek knew they were probably not even watching what happened in the cells. At this time, the camera angles were firmly fixed on the women's area as they prepared for bed.

Craig was about asleep on his bunk when Tweek released the lock, having liberated the keycard to the cells from the sleeping guard.

Sitting up in a hurry, Craig jumped off the bunk and pushed at the door, as if unbelieving that he was free. "Tweek..."

"GAH! GO!"

"What about you?"

"C-could you like – gnk – hit me over the head? Like, you overpowered me?"

"No!" Craig grabbed Tweek's wrist. "You think they wouldn't realise you were here? You helped me? You have to come too!"

"NO! GAH!"

"Come on Tweek!" Craig pulled Tweek along with him, until he realised he would have to go out among Cartman's troops in full prisoner uniform. "Um, did you even HAVE a plan?"

"Spare uniform," Tweek stammered, shoving the clothes at Craig. The boy looked at them and frowned. He was taller than Tweek and skinnier thanks to his confinement, if anyone looked closely enough they would find the ill-fitting outfit suspicious. But there was nothing that could be done about it. Quickly, he shed his clothes and dragged the uniform on, grimacing as he looked down at himself wearing the insignia of the hated Cartman.

"We gotta get outta here, I can't wear this for long," he muttered.

Tweek's entire body looked like it was about to shake apart. "I – gnk – left the doors unlocked all the way to the outside, the guards – gnk – shouldn't be a problem oh God what if I killed them Mills is gonna shoot me in the head! GAH! You better go, I drew map oh shit oh shit!"

"We have to go," said Craig firmly, checking out the rest of the cell block and seeing only the lone sleeping guard at the far end. He glanced at Tweek, realised just how terrified the other boy was and put his hands on Tweek's shoulders, trying to calm him down. "Look, they're gonna know you helped me as soon as they wake up and check the cameras, so there's no way you can stay here."

"Oh shit I forgot they'd check!"

"And you've been giving information to the Resistance for this long, you must wanna see Cartman go down."

"Yeah! I mean – gnk – I didn't choose to come here, we got rounded up and then they said if we weren't with them we'd get killed and I didn't want to die and I still don't want to die and..."

"Tweek. Calm. Down." Craig spoke firmly and patiently, but was horribly aware that their luck could run out at any moment. "We have to go, right now, but you have to calm down or else we're gonna get noticed."

Nodding, Tweek took a deep breath, then another, willing himself to recall the many relaxation tecniques that people had tried to teach him over the years, largely without success. He clamped his mouth firmly closed, digging his teeth into his bottom lip as if trying to staple it shut, managing to get the worst of his jitters under control. His eye was still twitching rapidly, hands shaking, but Craig had seen him practically every day for the past five months and knew that was considered pretty much normal. It was as best as they were going to get.

Tweek had neglected to bring shoes and prisoners went barefoot, so Craig liberated the pair the sleeping guard wore, wrinkling his nose slightly at the thought but grateful that the size wasn't too far out and that he could walk without problems, even if he was covered in blisters by the time they got out of here. If they got out of here.

The guard didn't even pause in his snoring as Craig opened the door and peered out. There were two more guards in the corridor beyond and if what he recalled from the brief moments he had been transported to and from his cell, the far door led directly to the outside... into the centre of Cartman's stronghold. From there, he would have to rely on Tweek.

Unless...

Cartman was here somewhere. Sitting around on his fat ass, probably eating something and abusing his authoritah. Gloating at taking over most of the country, laughing because so far the Resistance had been unable to stop him.

What if Craig were able to walk into the room he was in, dressed as one of his trusted guards, take out a gun and blow the fat fucks brains across the wall?

The war would be over and they would have won. One shot. Just one and the whole thing could be done with, there would be no dictator after world domination and life could get back to normal for everyone.

Well. Almost everyone. He was sure that after shooting Cartman, his own life would be measured in seconds rather than minutes. But wouldn't it be worth it, if it would stop all the fighting and brutality and fear?

Craig almost grinned as he considered it, how simple it would be, how satisfying, how he could die happy knowing that he was the one to stop the hated fatass....

Unfortunately, he had to face reality.

The stronghold was huge and Cartman could be anywhere. The uniform wouldn't fool anyone who checked it closely and it was possible that someone would recognise him as a prisoner. The cells were poorly guarded because no one really expected him to be able to leave the cell at all, but Cartman would be more heavily guarded, it was unlikely that he'd get anywhere near. Taking a gun from the guards outside, even though they were out of it, was a risk – he knew nothing of their training and it was possible they would snap awake if he touched them, like a frigging marine or something.

He would have tried in spite of all that, if not for Tweek. He couldn't drag the other boy off on that kind of suicide mission, but he couldn't send him off to escape alone – he was under control for the moment but he'd never keep a lid on his panic for that long.

Going after Cartman was not an option.

Fuck.

"So, which way once we're out of here?" he asked, pitching his voice low.

"Out the d-door at the end and go left around the prison and oh shit we head for the fence, you can see it but it's shitshitshit it's a long way off I know the way shit..."

"Okay, chill. You lead."

"Gah!"

The pair slipped quietly past the slumbering guards and Craig pushed open the door to the outside world, checking around for soldiers but seeing no activity nearby. In the distance, he could hear noises, a shout that sounded more amused than alarmed, an engine revving.

Act natural, he told himself. Act like you have every right to be here, like you really are a soldier and you do this every day, no reason for you to get stopped...

He strode out of the door, indicating for Tweek to hurry up, then put his thoughts into action. In his experience, people behaving suspiciously attracted attention, but if he blended in, no one would pay attention to him. Hopefully. If they were lucky.

The next half an hour was possibly the most stomach-churning of Craig's life since the initial invasion of South Park. The stronghold truly was enormous and the prison wasn't located near the perimetre, like any thoughtful person would put it, instead locating it right in the centre and making it more difficult to make a break for it. The movies had totally lied to him. Occasionally a soldier or worker would walk past and three times they were greeted cheerfully. Tweek jumped every time, but Craig merely waved and said, "Hey," hurrying away as quickly as he thought he could get away with. At any moment, he expected klaxons to start sounding and spotlights turned on, searching them out and tellign the entire stronghold that the prisoner had escaped.

But no alarms went off, no one chased after them demanding to know what they were doing. They made it to the perimetre fence and it was there they stopped and Craig took in the situation.

"Shit."

The fence was stupidly tall and electrified. Where they stood was out of sight of most of the buildings, the ones they could see shrouded in darkness. They were between two lookout posts and Craig knew that they were occupied, probably with snipers. Once he'd been on a scouting mission with Kenny when a sniper got the drop on them and remembering the mess that the bullet made of Kenny's head, he did not want to find out what that felt like. They couldn't be seen from the towers right then, but the moment they were on the other side of the fence, they would be. Assuming they even got to the other side of the fence.

"He's not here!" Tweek looked around in panic, starting to shake more than ever. "I said he had to be here at – gnk – eleven and he's not here!"

"Hush!" hissed Craig, grabbing Tweek's wrist and checking the time on his watch. "It's too early! It's not eleven yet."

"Oh shit, I messed up, I messed up the time and we gotta wait here and if anyone sees us they'll wonder why we're just waiting here and..."

"Calm down," said Craig, checking around again for signs of life. "Who's coming?"

"He was here this afternoon to give me the coffee and I asked him to come back and..."

"Shh." Craig clapped a hand over Tweek's mouth, tilting his head to the side. "Hear that?"

For a few moments there was silence, then a quiet, earthy sound.

"He's here." The relief in Tweek's voice was palpable and Craig looked around again. Nope, no sign of anyone. And if Tweek really thought someone could help them get out of there, well, he'd have to be driving a tank or something...

The ground shifted below his feet and he leapt backwards, startled. For once, Tweek didn't seem alarmed, instead dropping to his knees and waiting a couple of minutes until a head poked out of the soil.

Craig blinked. "Oooo-kay."

"Hurry," said the man in a heavy accent, widening the hole so that a person could fit, climbing out himself and sitting on the ground. "Zere is not much time."

Tweek trembled as he looked at the hole. "Is that safe?"

Craig raised an eyebrow. "Is it safer to stay?"

Taking the hint, Tweek climbed, slightly reluctantly, into the hole.

"Huh, 'e told me it would be just ze prisoner," said the Mole, sounding vaguely amused. "Hurry. We do not want to be caught."

But Craig paused a moment longer, breathing fresh air and feeling the wind against his face for the first time in five months. The night sky, which he'd barely noticed before his imprisonment, seemed the most uplifting sight he'd ever seen. He hadn't aspired to excitement and told himself he would have been happy enough with an average job, average world, average life. But this feeling – this was freedom. And it was worth fighting for.

With a grin, he raised both fists and flipped his middle fingers at the stronghold before turning and climbing into the hole.

~:~

Eric Cartman shook his head in feigned dismay, speaking into the intercom. "Would you look at that. The cell's empty. One prisoner and they can't even keep him. Sleeping on the job – and the camera monitors didn't see anything? Typical, were they watching the girls' rooms again? Well, have them all shot in the morning. The guards I mean, not the girls."

He shut off the intercom and turned to his guest. "Drink?"

"No, I've got to get back. Hell doesn't just run itself you know." Satan stood in a corner, a rather pleased expression on his face. Cartman didn't notice, having turned instead toward the big screen on the wall, which currently showed the view from the prison security camera. Craig's cell remained empty, but there was plenty of activity going on as the condemned soldiers who failed to stop the escape were locked in the very cells they had been guarding.

Cartman smirked at the sight, taking a seat behind his desk and ignoring the smell of brimstone as Satan vanished in a pillar of flame that did some serious damage to the expensive rug. "Craig, I've no idea why I kept you alive - but I'm so happy that I did."

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Another Author Note: Y'know, I had no intention of having Tweek in the story and I had planned for Craig to be dead. I just got a major kick outta the thought of Tweekers being a double agent and had to put it in there. This was supposed to be a short piece at the end of the previous chapter, but Tweek just took over, making this the longest chapter yet. And the most fun to write! I think I've been reading too many Creek fics lately... not that there will be any romance at all in this story.

Reviews, as always, are highly appreciated! Let me know how I did with the characterisation (I'm a bit nervous that I screwed it up) and if you liked it.