The Key

"I'm your own, Person Jesus…Feeling unknown and you're all alone, flesh and bone by the telephone, lift up the receiver, I'll make you a believer…Take second best, put me to the test, things on your chest, you need to confess, I will deliver, you know I'm a forgiver. Reach out and touch Faith."

Personal Jesus, Johnny Cash.

As I sat in the yard, I noticed Slim. I wasn't sure what his real name was, only that he was Sucre's cousin. Theodore sat beside me on the benches, playing with his sock a little. I had been talking to Tweener until Bellick called him over, which I hadn't paid much attention to. Bellick had called me over plenty of times to try and intimidate me, so he was probably doing the same to David.

"Eh, look at that. Fat boy over there is eying you up and down like a piece of candy! Looks like someone's got a big crush on you, Emilie," Theodore cackled.

I glanced over at Sucre's cousin. He seemed alarmed, looking away instantly.

Theodore laughed again. "The boy is blushin'. How cute," he said drily, but I doubt he was truly amused. He had been in a bad mood today, even though we got the money. Things went on in T-Bag's life that I didn't know about of course, so anything could've set him off.

"Leave him alone T-Bag."

"Ah, ah, ah," he murmured, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "You know I've figured something out about you. You only call me by my nickname when you're angry."

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. Did I? I hadn't really noticed. I called him by his full name the most of the time because I knew it irked him. Now he was getting used to it. I'd have to come up with a new name.

"Oh shut up Teddy."

Bad mistake. He stood up and took my wrists tightly in his hands. "Don't you ever call me Teddy, got me? Only a specific female and two kids can do that, and it ain't you. Understand me?"

I nodded. He stormed off, leaving me a little shaken. A 'specific female and two kids'. Did Theodore have family? He never mentioned it before, but he must have a reason to want to escape. I always thought it was just freedom he wanted, but it seemed I didn't know enough about him. I sat there for another few minutes.

Slim was still watching me even when the bell went off to signal that yard time was over.

I missed Michael dreadfully. I begged Sara to let me know if he was okay, but our meetings were getting shorter and shorter. Instead of seeing her everyday, I was only seeing her once or twice a week. Soon they'd be completely over. Yet another problem had risen too. Gary, that idiot Guard had taken our money and Westmoreland's watch. C-Note wanted to punch his lights out, but I doubt that would get us anywhere.

Theodore was still in a foul mood, but he and I were on speaking terms it seemed. As long as I never called him Teddy. He was such a psychopath. It should be him in the Psyche Ward, not poor Mike.

C-Note hit the table and knocked over my carton of milk. I managed to salvage most of it, picking it up carefully.

"Quit freakin' out C-Note, I only get one of these!" I scolded, motioning at the milk.

Theodore rolled his eyes. "We have more important things to worry about than your carton of milk, smartass. If you want me to get you some, I can always ask Squeaker."

He was referring to a very young, weedy kid. He had spiky blonde hair and was very pale. His real name was Stuart, but around here he was known as Squeaker. He had made the mistake of joining T-Bag's side by taking the white pocket. Whenever you said anything to him, he would get instantly nervous and his voice would go all high-pitched and squeaky, hence the nickname. I glanced over at Squeaker, who sat alone in the corner. By 'asking Squeaker', what Theodore really meant was he'd just punch the poor child and take his milk.

I felt like a playground bully right then.

"Forget it," I replied as Westmoreland began to talk.

Slim appeared as Westmoreland finished talking about maintenance fixing the toilet in Michael's room. If they did that, they'd find the hole and the whole plan would be ruined.

"I got a plan to help you with your Scofield problem," he said.

Oh no. "What'd you say Slim?" Theodore growled.

"I said I got a way to help you-…"

He didn't finished, of course. C-Note had him on the table. Once again he had knocked over my milk. I rolled my eyes tiredly and began picking it up.

"None of you want me to enjoy my meal, do you?" I sighed. "I get one of these. Hell, if you do it again I'm taking yours C-Note."

They didn't care. Too busy interrogating Slim.

"Who the Hell said we had a problem?"

Slim's eyes drifted fearfully to meet mine, and I popped a straw into the milk carton, watching. I doubted C-Note would do anything drastic anyway, we already had Sucre in the Shu. We couldn't afford another guy down there. Yet Slim didn't know this, so he was afraid. He was sweating already, eyes wide.

"Relax," he said. "Lincoln and Sucre told me everything."

It was my turn to have wide eyes, looking at Theodore and Westmoreland. Both were unhappy. If they had told him 'everything', it would mean yet another man on our team trying to escape. We already had one too many.

"What the Hell did they tell you exactly? What?" C-Note asked, getting more aggressive. Okay, so maybe he would do something drastic.

We glanced around at the people beginning to stare.

"Everything," Slim panted, his face pressed against the table. "That I gotta come with you. You know, on early parole if I can help get the Fish out of Psyche."

C-Note let him go and he slid into the seat beside mine. I let out a deep breath. Parole? Lincoln was thinking on his toes I guess. I pulled my hair back into a bun, my fringe falling into my eyes as I rubbed them. One plus was I wouldn't mess up my mascara. I wasn't allowed any kind of make-up in here, since it could be used as a 'weapon'. I could imagine trying to stab Theodore with a bit of lipstick. I doubted I would get very far.

"What are we the A-train, everybody gets to ride with us?" Theodore asked, breathing heavily. He hit the trays. Knocking over the carton of milk, again. By now I was actually considering taking Squeaker's. I wasn't really going to, but it sounded nice in my head. Since no one here was going to let me have mine.

The milk from my carton spurted onto Slim, and I was thankful I'd tied up my hair, otherwise it would've been a bitch to get out. Theodore leaned over the table, staring Slim right into the eyes. Only a few hours ago, that had been me he was glaring at. I could relate with Slim's fear, but right now I wasn't afraid of T-Bag.

Though I wasn't entirely sure where I stood with him anyway.

"Take a walk before I give you a smack," he growled.

Before Slim could leave, Westmoreland stopped him, speaking up for the first time.

"You got a better solution?"

"He's right Theodore," I said softly. T-Bag's eyes met mine. "We don't have a lot of options anymore."

Theodore didn't look away from me for a second, the gears in his mind churning. I kept my gaze strong though. It must have worked, because he sat back and threw the carton towards the ground.

Someone really didn't want me to have my milk.

"Me…and my cuz and Lincoln came up with something," Slim panted. Poor guy was terrified of all the others here. "Now it can work, but it's risky."

Theodore, Westmoreland and C-Note all looked at me at once, as if looking at me for guidance.

"I say we trust him."

Slim let out a deep breath, his brown eyes still searching. Theodore leaned back in his seat, narrowing his eyes at Sucre's cousin.

"You hear that Tubby? Emilie's rootin' for ya. Better not let her down, otherwise it's all our asses on the line. And you know what will happen then…"

He didn't need to finish the threat.

I sat on my bed, thinking once again about Michael. There was no denying I loved him. I couldn't get him out of my mind. My cell door was open, and when I noticed out of the corner of my eye that someone was leaning against the frame. I expected it to be C-Note, or T-Bag, coming to inform me on some terrible problem that had risen up once again.

Only it wasn't them; it was Nemmins.

"Howdy Emilie. Miss me?"

I looked away from him. Would he hit me in here? He didn't seem aggressive. He sat on the bed beside me, and I instantly put my guard. The fatso took up half the freakin' the bed. I turned to face him.

"Get out, Nemmins."

"Oh but Miss Emilie, I only came for a chat…and to see your pretty face once again, not bruised and banged up."

The black eye I had given him was gone, though there was a slight scar on his right eyebrow. I didn't recall giving him that. Nemmins had lots of scars on his arm though. I asked T-Bag about them once, and he said that Nemmins had had a bad cellmate before. I didn't get what he meant by that, and he said that every time Nemmins didn't do something for this cellmate, he'd slit Nemmins' arms. Sounded pretty scary. Maybe that's why Nemmins is so disturbed.

"Don't you want to chat with me?" he smirked.

"Does it look like I want to?"

"Watch your tone, kid. Now you and I might have gotten off on the wrong foot, but we can fix that."

I carefully edged away from him. He could easily have a knife on him that the guards didn't know about him. He smiled and stretched.

"Oh Emilie. Imagine. If you stay in here for five years, I might get lucky and become your cellmate."

"I don't stay in cells with other men, you idiot," I hissed. "That's what the judge said."

"Yeah well the judge don't run this prison at night, now does he? I got some guards that can help me out real quick."

"Nemmins," a new voice said. "Shouldn't you be leaving now?"

And there he was, giving his classic stare. Michael! My eyes were wide. He had gotten out already. The moment Nemmins had left, slowly and quietly staring at Michael, I leapt off the bed and hugged him tightly, kissing his temple.

"You made it, you're not dead!"

He chuckled a little. "Not yet, anyway."

"Don't say that. Has something gone wrong with the plan already?" I frowned, taking a step back. Was he always that tall? He shook his head and I let out a slow breath. "Perfect. How was…Psyche ward?"

"I got what I needed," he replied.

"And that was?"

"The blueprints of my tattoos. Haywire managed to remember them, and draw it out. We need to get out of here fast, if Nemmins was serious about making you his new roommate."

"He can't do that, can he?" I asked, my eyebrows furrowing. "Pope would notice that."

"Things are run differently in here Em. Just don't worry. Give me some time, I can get you out of here."