A/N: Though not necessary, you may want to read Freeze Frame August 2000 prior to this. -- AXZ
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Death by lethal injection... .sadly not being an option, it is the decision of this court that you, Darien Fawkes, be remanded to the maximum security penitentiary at Bakersfield. There to serve the remainder of your life without hope of parole.
Judge Beale's words echoed through his mind for the hundredth, thousandth time since they'd been spoken in open court just the day before. Darien was still in shock; he'd been hoping for a miracle in the form of one petite redhead and was still upset it hadn't happened... yet. Though the fact that he hadn't scored that trip to San Quentin was a plus he'd been damn surprised about. Harry was already working on the appeal with new evidence he apparently unearthed, but Darien knew the wheels of justice turned slowly once the ink on the on the transfer papers was dry.
Not willing to become the playmate of some hulking brute with the brilliant appellation of Butch, or something equally impressive, that Darien would most likely end up on his knees before on a regular and unwilling basis, he'd decided to take his chances and make a break for it. With the aid of a pen swiped from the courthouse he'd had a go at picking the lock on the courthouse cell he'd been invited to spend the night in until they could transport him to his new accommodations at Bakersfield in the morning. His attempt had been interrupted by a nemesis that had haunted him his entire life -- a spider that had dropped down to skitter across the back of his hand. He'd shouted and dropped the improvised lockpicks and was caught just seconds later by the guard responding to his cry.
Which is why his current residence had no bars, no windows, and little light. Normally he would have appreciated the quiet, but right now it simply meant he was alone with his thoughts and fears. Given no human had been able to help, he actually began, in a vague and disjointed way, praying for a miracle. Any miracle that would get him out of this mess and the chance to set things straight. Mere seconds later a blinding light struck him in the eyes as the door to his cell swung open. He raised an arm, squinting at the painfully bright light that was then eclipsed by.... Kevin.
Wonderful, his shitty day had just gone to hell. Somehow Darien knew that god was laughing his ass off right at this moment. 'Chele was supposed to be the one trying to save his sorry ass not... not Kevin. Kevin, who didn't give a damn. Kevin, who shouldn't have even known he was in here, 'cause Darien certainly hadn't bothered to inform him and risk enduring yet another round of lectures on how he was wasting his life.
That made him pause. 'Chele had warned him the method might be a little mad, but would she have gone to Kevin? Knowing that he was still not speaking to his brother? Darien had to admit it was a possibility since she did not have the same view of Kevin that Darien did.
Darien's silence and dark glower at his brother had obviously dragged on far too long and Kevin broke it.
"Do you want to tell me about it?"
Darien put on his best punk attitude as Kev would never believe anything else from him and spun a quick tale. "Well, you know, we are still painting," Darien began pointing to the wall behind him that was covered with graffiti, most of which was sexual in nature, "and, god wait until you see the living room." Kevin rolled his eyes and looked up at the ceiling as if asking for help to endure this, but Darien ignored it and just kept going. "I think you are especially gonna love it. It's got this colonial trim, it kinda..."
Kevin gave Darien that look, the one that proclaimed his patience was at an end and that all the bluff and bluster Darien so smoothly spoke would never be believed. "No, no, don't do that. Don't give me the glare. I'm handling it."
"...handling it," Kevin said at the exact same time, which caused Darien to suddenly want to shout 'Jinx, you owe me a beer' just to turn that knowing sneer into something, anything else.
"I am," Darien insisted. Hopefully 'Chele was, anyway. "and my case is on appeal."
"...case is on appeal," Kevin stated with the timing of someone who had memorized the dialog a long time ago.
It was too much and Darien's temper flared, "Look, you want to get your own sentences?" he snapped.
Kevin responded in kind. "Then tell me one I haven't heard before." He paused, that look of annoyance momentarily leaving his features to be replaced with what almost appeared to be concern. "Why the hell didn't you call me?"
Darien snorted. "Yeah, and say what? Hey, bro what's happenin', man? Haven't talked to you in a couple of years. Can you come down and bust me out?"
"Beats hearing about it on America Online," Kevin complained with a touch of bitterness in his voice.
Darien perked up at that, "I'm on the web?" Okay, so he was suddenly famous, or infamous if you preferred, but he was still oddly proud he'd actually pulled off something, which only Kevin had managed until now.
"Darien," Kevin snapped in exasperation, clearly not happy with how Darien was reacting to the situation.
"Wait a minute," Darien interrupted before Kevin could start with the lecture. "I mean, c'mon, you've been hogging the press since we were 12. Don't I get a shot?"
"No," Kevin stated flatly.
Darien ground his teeth and resisted the sudden urge to chant 'Marsha, Marsha, Marsha' at Kevin. "Why? 'Cause I'm not good enough?" Darien groused, knowing that was the path Kevin usually walked down first when listing Darien's flaws.
In a strangely soft tone Kevin said, "You aren't guilty enough."
Darien sighed softly, wondering why it had to be now that Kevin saw the truth. "Okay, Kev, if I didn't do the crime, do you think I can do the time?"
Kevin shook his head. "Not where they're sending you."
Darien tipped his head down to stare at the floor. He knew Kevin was right, knew he wouldn't last very long, at least not as himself. He would be forced into things he had swore to himself he'd never have to deal with again, be forced to... He pushed the thought away; not wanting to deal with it, not wanting to believe this was real.
"Look, I didn't come here to lie to you. I came here to help," Kevin explained in a quiet voice.
Darien lifted his head to look at his brother and was surprised at the actual concern that seemed to be buried in his eyes. "I think you're a little late, bro, they're shipping me out of here in a few minutes."
Kevin reached inside his sport coat and withdrew an envelope. He strode across the room and held it out to Darien who eyed it warily.
"What is this? What is it?" Darien asked, wondering what magic trick Kevin was about to pull from up his sleeve.
"It's an option, if you'll trust me." Kevin urged the envelope at Darien. "Go on."
With obvious reluctance Darien did and opened it up. Inside he found a single sheet of paper, which he began to read; a sinking feeling developed in his guts that got worse with every word. It appeared to be a release form, but for what was never specifically mentioned.
Kevin didn't seem to notice as he crouched down beside Darien, and just began speaking while he continued to stare in disbelief at the words on the paper in his hands. "Folks I work with looked into your case. They agreed you got the shaft. Now, these guys have some pull with the Justice Department. I got them to put in a request. Took a little greasing, but they agreed to make you an offer." Kevin leaned back against the wall, relaxing a bit at Darien's apparent willingness to listen. "There's a project we've been developing. It's Fed funded, kind of under the table. We finished animal testing a month ago and now we're ready for a volunteer."
"A volunteer. You mean like a guinea pig," Darien sneered, liking this less and less by the second.
"As in a possible pardon if you'll do it," Kevin countered quickly.
And there it was. The carrot. The bait to get him to cooperate. Just like always, only now Kevin wasn't looking for someone to do the heavy manual labor of his chores so that he could spend more time mixing chemicals in the basement in exchange for writing Darien's next term paper. Oh no, this was Kevin coming up with a creative solution to force Darien to walk the straight and narrow, to get him to heel and stay like a well-trained dog. Trouble was Darien wasn't sure he could say no. So he did the next best thing and turned it into a joke. "Well, is this... is this some kind of Viagra thing?"
Kevin was suddenly his old self, tight-lipped and secretive. "Look, I can't get into it here. Suffice it to say it will involve some surgery..."
Darien laughed aloud, but that sickening feeling in his stomach trebled, "It sounds like you said 'surgery'."
Kevin hurriedly spoke, "It's nothing I can't reverse. Believe me it's a small price to pay for getting out."
Darien growled, "Look, Kev, I'm your brother, not a lab rat." He could not believe the utter arrogance of the man.
Kevin sighed heavily, "Darien, we don't have time for the pride thing."
Darien's temper boiled over at that one. How many times had Kevin pulled the excuse of 'pride' out to wave in Darien's face over the years? Too many by far, and the sad thing was, while pride was involved, it was never for the reasons Kevin often accused. "Pride thing. Nice." Darien slapped both envelope and letter to Kevin's chest and stood up, then began to pace the small room. He could feel the anger coursing through him, making him want to smash his fist into the wall, or better yet, Kevin's face. "Okay, this is my body we're talking about, and now you wanna play doctor with it."
In a harsh voice Kevin said, "Would you rather your pen pals play something else?"
Darien stopped dead at the opposite side of the cell to glare at his brother. He'd never told Kevin what had happened when he'd been in prison, but it was plain Kevin knew exactly what had gone on. The awful thing was, Darien damn well knew it would happen again, the reminder he'd received a week ago confirmed that. Only once at Bakersfield he knew it would be far more then just a few bruises that would be adorning his body. Oh no, the wounds, the damage would be far, far deeper.
Kevin must have seen the realization settle upon Darien's features. "Look, I'm not saying it's not a risk, but it's better than throwing your life away." His voice dropped and became pleading, "If you're going to trust someone, trust me."
"Why's that?" Darien sneered, "'Cause you're my brother?"
"Because you don't have much choice," Kevin told him, and held out the envelope again.
Darien's hopes sank at that moment because he knew Kevin was right. Damn it, where was Michele?
