Miguel Alvarez lay curled, shivering in the centre of the filthy bleak room. He wasn't really cold but desperately praying that Toby would forgive him as he'd begged just before being dragged off him. He also prayed that Ryan knew what he was doing. He hadn't thought much of the plan. So many things could go wrong.

Ryan had tried to reassure him it would be sweet but just in case or, more importantly, if it worked, Beecher had to be far away from it and he advised that he should be absent too. And he also prayed that when he eventually got out of here, whenever that would be, he wouldn't be separated from the man he was doing all this for.

Tobias Beecher stood in the centre of his filthy room, hands clasped on head trying to figure out what the hell had happened. Just what the hell was Alvarez playing at? Whatever, he knew that this was not the end. No way was this the goal of all the plotting he'd noticed going on.

So something was to happen while he was in this shit hole. He hoped Miguel was okay, knew the man had a terror of being alone, isolated, so he must deem this worth it. The fact that he'd obviously been gotten out of the way and the 'interest' Miguel had been receiving from those Aryan shits, Beecher had an anxious foreboding. Also, just a little bit of hope. He moved to sit against a wall and thought back over the day as he'd known it.

=0=

Waking with the lights, he'd been disorientated, half expecting Alvarez to be looking at him then hitting his head as he had jumped up. Remembering why he was down here, he glanced upwards and saw the old lace-less pumps hanging over the edge. Standing, it was as if Miguel had not changed position all night. Moving to wake him he smiled at the reversal but Alvarez had already fixed eyes on him. Doing the check that was second nature now, he stroked the man's face and leant in to lightly kiss his lips as they rose to meet him.

Miguel had struggled to get down so he'd gone to help, the man practically falling into his arms. He embraced him, kissing his check before letting go.

Alvarez was trying to hide it but he was still in pain and now stiff from remaining more or less in the same position all night, finally falling asleep due to exhaustion, his mind running over the day ahead. It would have helped if O'Riely had told him all but no doubt it would have added more worry, not removed it. This had to work. A man's life was at stake. One much more important than his own.

By the time they were in the canteen, Alvarez' characteristic easy lope had returned but every so often Beecher caught the slight wince. He hoped no one else noticed but doubted anyone else was watching as closely as himself. For once they were not hassled, were not taunted but Beecher was becoming greatly concerned at the looks which were more like leers from Robson.

He'd told Miguel to stay around people and, 'for God sakes don't be alone anywhere'. The Latino had taken the admonition in silence so he already knew. Mind you, getting punched in the stomach could do that for you. It had become obvious who'd hurt Miguel and Beecher spent the morning typing by rote and deciding he had to do something permanent about Shillinger once and for all. He couldn't let Alvarez get caught up in that sick drama.

The next time he saw him, dawdling in the corridor outside the food hall, he was pleased to see him staying close to Rebadow and Brusmalis although they looked decidedly uncomfortable. Not the best protection by anyone's standards but at least he'd taken his advice. The sleeves had shrunk down to just above the elbows and he looked a bit more himself. Alvarez liked to show his arms off, proud of them, so he was definitely covering something up. No doubt bruises. It was unlikely that his stomach had been hit in a remotely fair fight.

Some sort of message passed between the man and O'Riely and Beecher's uneasiness became a raging anger as, having to pass the bane of his life, it was Alvarez who was subjected to the catcalling and whistles and for some unfathomable reason more Dr Zeus references. Miguel was doing his best to ignore them but Beecher couldn't as Robson grabbed the Latino's ass hard, fingers digging in deep between his cheeks. Turning to attack with his try he felt Miguel's body pushing him away. "Leave it Toby. Please." Then he swiftly moved off.

Beecher had slammed his try down, sitting angrily across from him. "What the Fuck do you think you're doing? You're setting yourself up as a mark for those Bastards. You can't just let that go!"

"Leave it. Please."

"No" He could still hear the laughter, "What sort of message are you sending out to all the Fucks in here if you won't stand up for yourself?"

"Leave it!" and Alvarez had eyefucked him.

Beecher was shocked silent then Miguel had acted like a child caught swearing at his Grandmother. Totally ashamed, he couldn't look at him and pressed at his waistband as if checking something was still there. Beecher noticed Brusmalis watching the action as well. So, he thought, Miguel has the syringe tucked in his jeans. Oh Fuck, and he'd turned to eating from his tray, the food dry and tasteless in his mouth.

=0=

And now he was in here. One minute still fuming, he was plonked in front of the TV, the next seeing Alvarez beckon him over to the stairs. Sighing, he slowly made his way over as if he didn't really have a destination.

Reaching Miguel he was grabbed, pushed under the stairs and Alvarez practically attacked him, kissing him desperately as if knowing this could well be the last time. And as he was pulled away from him, off him, those two emphasised words for his ears alone, "Forgive Me."

==000==

Four or possibly five days later, he wasn't certain, Beecher's clothes were thrown in at him. He was surprised as he'd expected to be in here for anything up to a month which was the norm. Dressing he caught a quick glimpse of Alvarez as he was pushed back into the room opposite. He didn't look to be too badly off and Beecher guessed he wasn't to be released after all.

Sat in an interview room, he felt dirty, scruffy and, scratching at his chin, decided that when he was to be let out of the 'Hole' it was high time to lose the beard. "I suppose you're going to tell me that you 'know nothing' as well?"

To be honest he didn't, he hadn't got a clue as to why he was even sat here faced with Glynn and McManus. He glanced up questioningly. At least it wasn't to be bad news, you still got a visit for that. Surly though he was not to be questioned over a kiss? He had an impulse to say 'Que?' but refrained, as these men did not look to be in a remotely good mood. Worse than usual in fact.

'As well?' So this was where Alvarez had been, but why let on that he'd said nothing? Maybe they were just trying to make him feel over confident, trying to trip him up? But he did, 'know nothing'. Then again he had to admit he did have a pretty good suspicion who all this involved.

Glynn was watching him intently then turning to McManus, "He does know what's happened doesn't he?"

"No. He doesn't." answered Beecher for him.

They both stared at him. "Oh come off it! We know you must be involved somehow. Even though you are 'conveniently' in the 'Hole'."

"Yeah," added McManus, "How bout that? Thought you'd learnt to be a little more circumspect?"

Beecher just shrugged.

"Tim. Maybe you should split them up if they ever get out of the 'Hole'?" He was not going to give them the rise they were looking for but both saw the slight twitch to the eyes. "Umm yes. Alvarez looked a bit upset at that too."

Beecher folded his arms loosely. Blackmail wouldn't work, especially as he was still at a loss.

"So you gonna tell us who killed Vern Shillinger?"

He looked up at that. Had McManus really said what he thought he had? He looked from one to the other, sitting up straight, hands gripping the edge of the table. Glynn and McManus exchanged a look that spoke volumes.

Leaning across the table Glynn asked, "You really didn't know did you?"

He just shook his head dumbstruck not truly believing. Disbelief was only part of it, amazement and a great sense of validation mixed with triumph. The man who had stabbed him, raped him, branded and tortured him, who had killed his child and for years made every day a waking hell was gone. He slumped in the chair scrubbing at his face then began to laugh. That hysterical manic laughter that many had learnt to be wary of.

The two men just waited for him to calm down. Wiping tears from his cheeks, Beecher sat not caring to keep the joy from his face. "Well?" asked Glynn.

"Yes. Thank you. I am."

Glynn had had enough "Officer," and as the door opened, "take him back,"

Once the prisoner had been removed, Tim took his vacated seat and looked across at the Warden. "I guess that's the happiest man in the place at the moment but then, can you really blame him? You know I think he had no idea. I think maybe he wasn't involved."

"I agree. But I'm not so sure of Alvarez. He knows something!"

"Leo you always think he knows something."

"That's because he does and the shit still won't tell me the truth!" He was convinced that Alvarez knew who had raped his daughter but the bastard was not talking, and probably never would.

Tim decided it best to steer away from the subject, "So what now?"

Glynn looked tired. "Just who and how did, whoever do it... Do it?" He raised his hands in exasperation, "Just how did the scum die?"

"You know as much as I do. Kidney failure, internal bleeding. Died in his cell during the night."

"But, Tim," pointing at him, "You know as I do," paraphrasing, "that wouldn't have happened if he'd not been poisoned!" He was silent then, "Okay, when they get out of the 'Hole', split them up."

McManus just laughed "Don't expect me to explain it to Pete." Glynn groaned. "She seems to think her plan is working."

"What? Just to give Beecher a new fuck buddy?"

"I don't know, Leo. But I think she's still carrying a lot of guilt over Beecher and" he shrugged adding, "as she said, what's the harm?" They had both been persuaded by the strong willed woman.

"Anything for a quiet life." Back to musing on the real topic in hand, "So tell me. Who's been hanging around Alvarez more than usual lately? I still think he's the key."

McManus thought a moment. "Been keeping pretty much to himself till Beecher of course. And therefore Rebadow, Brusmalis, Hill. Seen him with O'Riely a few times." Glynn raised eyes at that. Tim saw. "We've already questioned all the kitchen staff. You can guess, saw nothing, heard nothing. No way to pin it down. Don't even know how it was done. What it was in. There is one other though….." thinking as Glynn waited interested. "The only other, still alive, that I've heard paying extra attention to Alvarez is Robson, but I took it just to being his proximity to Beecher."

Glynn clasped his hands in front of his face, tapping his lips a couple of times. "No. Unless. You don't think we've got this all wrong and it's just an internal power struggle amongst the Brotherhood and Shillinger lost?"

"Could be," Tim agreed but doubted it.

"Whatever, Tim, we need to watch them closely because if its not internal, you can bet we're not the only ones that think Beecher and Alvarez have something to do with this!"

=0=

As he heard laughter advancing down the corridor to be muffled but not silenced as the door opposite slammed shut, Alvarez curled up tighter on the floor, hugging himself and smiled.

==000==

TBC...