It would be much simpler with a pencil and paper, Tony thought, as he lay on his bed in the afternoon. His brain was struggling with keeping all the passages and exits in place. He had spent the entire time since his return to the cell planning his escape. Emotions he hadn't felt for the last five months raged through him – not anger or depression or hopelessness, but excitement! He was alive again, planning to rejoin the world outside. The thought of the beach didn't pain him as he gazed at his blue clothes. He would be seeing it again for himself soon. He would remove his shoes and trousers, hell; he'd remove all these filthy clothes, and just walk in. After he had a refreshing swim he would allow the waves to roll him onto the sand and he would lie on the warm dark rocks and get dry. And then he would go back for another swim…

Focus Almeida. You're not out yet. If you can't concentrate you won't get out at all. You've got lots more planning to do. Look at you, you've lost track of all the cameras now! You'll just have to start again.

Dinner arrived. Tony got up from his bed and settled the tray carefully on the bed. What did they bring him? Mashed potatoes with gravy and some poor quality beef - well, it was a lot better than what he'd eaten in the holding cell. And before he ate it, he could use the potatoes for something else. He picked up his spoon and pushed the potatoes into two squares, representing the blocks, leaving empty space on his plate for the courtyards. Next he pushed the pieces of beef into position as the cameras he would have to elude, and finally he used the gravy to show the various checkpoints on the way to the main gate. He frowned in concentration. There wasn't enough beef on the plate to show every camera, he would have to move them between blocks.

Deeply absorbed in his task, he only heard the trolley's return at the last minute. Rapidly he scraped the food into the small box next to his comb and handed back the plate. The guards wheeling it glared at him as they were forced to slow for a second.

He ate his meal with his fingers, licking the last pieces off them, and washed out the box.

You almost got caught, Almeida! They would've been REAL pissed off to see you playing with your food.

He resolved to be more careful in the future. He would not get into trouble this week; he would rest and regain his strength. Tony grabbed the book of bees and laid it on his bed, pretending to read it. Now where was he? Yes, the timing. He would have to leave the prison during the normal shift change so as not to arouse suspicion. When did the guards change shifts? How long did they linger inside after being relieved? Were they required to debrief? He resolved to question Sanchez the next day. The more he knew the greater was his chance of success. That night he could barely fall asleep in his excitement.

The next morning passed in the same excitement as he ran through his plans yet again. He could hardly wait until yard time to run his ideas by the gang.

The siren wailed, and everyone stepped outside. Tony stared in annoyance at his own door, wandering why it remained shut. He had done nothing to deserve losing his yard time. He shook the door, noting it remained firmly locked. Nervously he watched the other prisoners leave the block, wandering what would happen to him now. The guards never failed to inform him if he lost his yard time, and no one had so far expressed displease with him. He paced his cell, growing increasingly concerned.

Six guards entered the block, heading for his cell. He pressed his face to the bars, watching their approach. The usual guards were all out in the yard supervising the prisoners. These were unfamiliar to him. He swallowed.

'Prisoner, face the wall. Place your hands behind your back.' Tony did as he was ordered and heard his door open. Two guards pulled his wrists tightly together cuffing them. They grabbed his arms, spinning him around. They formed a shield around him as they led him across the floor. He was halted outside the shower. His cuffs were removed. 'Get your clothes off, convict.' Tony stared amazed. Shower time was only once a week on Monday night if you were lucky. Regularly several weeks could pass without a trip there. Being taken to the shower during yard time by unfamiliar guards was unheard off. He removed his grimy clothes, wandering whether he would be beaten.

The guards watched him carefully positioned round the shower block. They allowed him to shower in peace. He rubbed the normal cheap soap that refused to lather all over his body and stood under the cold water for a full minute reveling in the clean feeling. A guard handed him a bottle of shampoo. Tony stared stunned. He hadn't seen shampoo at all since his arrest. Normally he rubbed his hair with soap. He scrubbed the dirt off it, watching for bubbles. His hair must have been really filthy for the shampoo washed straight out without bubbling. He squeezed more on his palm and rubbed it back on his hair. This time he was covered in bubbles. For a while he stood there, watching them run down his body, breathing in the scent. Once again he squeezed a little shampoo out and rubbed his hair. The whole thing turned white with bubbles. He was clean now!

'That will do, convict,' snapped a guard. Tony switched off the tap and rubbed himself dry. He was handed a clean set of clothes which he pulled on, unable to believe his fortune. 'Sit down, convict,' ordered a guard, pointing to a chair. He settled in it, watching as his hair was clipped reasonably neatly. Next his hands were cuffed to the chair and he was shaved.

Someone's coming to see me. I've got to look neat and smell clean. Who could it be? Not the lawyer, he's got nothing further to say to me. Not mom or Papa, I'm not allowed to see them for another five months. There's no one else!

Mystified, he followed the guards outside the block and across to the administration block. He climbed the stairs and was led into the same room as the lawyer had been in. Once again his legs were shackled to the chair. He sat on his plastic chair and waited. Judging by the previous visit, he had at least half an hour to wait.

This occasion proved different. Within minutes of his arrival the door was unlocked and two figures entered with a guard. Tony stiffened. He felt the hairs rise on his arm. He barely managed to pull his impassive mask on before the visitors pulled their chairs out. The guard left, locking them inside.

'So Almeida, we are forced to meet again. I've received a very dismal report about your behavior from the warden. You should be ashamed of yourself. He says there's less trouble with ten crooks than with you!'

Well, I'm not ashamed! HE should be, keeping me in the hole days longer than the law permits!

'Dammit Almeida, look at me! A repeat of your performance during your trial won't be tolerated. I've got some question to ask, and you will answer them clearly and immediately.'

In your dreams, Hammond!

Hammond gave a snort of irritation. 'Almeida, I'm here on a matter of national security. We've received Intel on a group you had monitored two years ago. It is essential I access your files. No one can locate them. Now where did you store inconclusive ongoing reports about Islamic militants? Just the general follow up reports.'

Tony fixed his gaze on a spot somewhere past Hammond and remained silent. Hammond slammed his fist on the table. Had he not noticed it out of the corner of his eye he would have jumped. As it was, he didn't move a muscle. 'Dammit, Almeida, I've got things to do besides sit here. I don't have all day!'

I do! Hell, I've got all week. I've got years; I've got the rest of my life, thanks partly to you. We can wait together.

Hammond's face turned purple. 'I'll give you exactly one minute to start telling me what I want to know. You've already been convicted of treason; you don't really want anything else, do you?'

Do I look like I'm worried about that? Hammond, I've got a LIFE sentence. You can't touch me anymore.

Hammond got up from the table, pushing back his chair with a loud thump. 'Your minute is up, Almeida. Show us where you stored those files immediately.' He opened a laptop and pushed it in front of Tony, who didn't as much as glance down at it.

'Almeida, I'll have you hung for refusal to cooperate in a matter of national security,' Hammond shouted. 'How would you like that?'

'Just fine,' Tony snapped back, close to the end of his patience.

Hammond gazed at him speechless. 'It can be arranged. Your parents can get a front row view. So can Michelle – no wait, she's on a course in Washington. Well, your parents can sit by themselves then. They'll get to see you led in, have a rope placed round your neck, and they'll get to watch you jerk around all blue. Judging by what emotional people they are, their performance should equal yours!' He pushed the laptop closer to Tony. 'Find the files now, Almeida!'

Tony's face had turned red, then white. His eyes flashed. Without thinking he picked up the laptop and shut it, banging it down on the table. 'Never mention my family again, Hammond,' he hissed.

The door opened, admitting four guards. They moved to push Tony back into his seat, cuffing his hands and restraining his chest against the chair. One raised his night stick and gave him a sound blow on his leg, repeated by a second as he failed to acknowledge it. The young man who accompanied Hammond looked startled.

'Stop that at once. The prisoner is restrained; you have no call to use violence.'

The guards looked at Hammond, who waved them out. 'Almeida, I'll call Richards to question you, if I have to.'

Tony returned his gaze to the wall, once more wearing his unreadable expression.

The young man spoke again. 'Mr. Hammond, sir, I wander if I could question Mr. Almeida.' Hammond shrugged.

'Mr. Almeida, I've been checking through your files. I'm real impressed with your organization. You had that much extra data on everything you've even impressed Ms. Driscoll, and she's not usually impressed with anything. Now this group is 'waking up.'

You've got a family in LA, I'm sure you want to keep them safe.'

'I'm listening,' Tony said in a milder tone.

'He has NO RIGHT to classified information, Hibbins,' snapped Hammond.

'Sir, he's not going to get any. I wiped the laptop clean, just like you ordered. Mr. Almeida,' he turned back to Tony, 'we need your help to find those files today. I'm sure you'd like something reasonable too. Think about it.'

'I want to go home,' Tony said, focusing on the IT guy. 'Wait a moment, you took my home. I'll be reasonable. I'll tell you whatever you want to know if you just release me.'

Hammond snorted again. 'That's enough, Hibbins. I'll call Richards.'

'If you call Richards you'll have to find the files for yourself, Hammond,' Tony said.

They gazed at each other, measuring each other's determination. 'What the hell happened to you, Almeida? You were a good agent.'

Tony unconsciously made a movement to stand up, feeling the restrains against his chest. He nodded his head vigorously. 'Yeah, I was a good agent. I'm a convicted traitor now, right?'

Why the hell should I care about another group of militants? They're not going to come in here and hurt me! You guys sent me down; you don't need my help anymore.

'Even convicted traitors have someone they care about,' Hibbins said quietly. 'Why don't you tell us for their sake, Mr. Almeida?'

Tony lowered his eyes to the desk, feeling a bitter pain in his chest. Hammond would get what he came for sooner or later; it was pointless waiting for Richards. A session with Richards would delay his escape by another week at least. He swallowed, forcing some of the bitterness inside. 'I want to see my parents,' he said, lifting his head and looking at Hibbins. 'I want the one hour visit I've been denied.'

'It would save us a lot of trouble, Mr. Hammond,' Hibbins said. 'Let him have his visit, what harm can it do?'

'I can't interfere with a punishment the warden has handed down,' Hammond stated.

'Then I can't remember where I placed those files,' Tony replied, seeing the momentary concern on both men's faces.

'Alright Almeida, you'll get your visit. Now where the hell did you put those files?'

'I need that in writing, with the warden's signature,' Tony said firmly. 'I need the visit tomorrow!'

Hammond nodded and knocked on the door, leaving the room. Tony lowered his gaze, attempting to calm himself. He took several deep breaths. Hibbins watched him sympathetically. The restraints humiliated him as he stared back at the young man.

'They say "hi"' Hibbins said finally. 'Some of the people at CTU.'

'Yeah,' Tony said. He wished he could bury his head in his hands. The one person he wanted to talk to above all others was miles away. His heart ached.

The door opened again. Hammond laid a paper in front of him. 'You get one visit, Almeida. If you behave decently you'll get your normal monthly visits in five months. Now where are the files?'

Tony chewed his lips. 'I'll need to see the laptop to find them,' he said, gazing at it. Hammond clucked in irritation and nodded at the IT man, who opened the screen. It remained black. He shook his head at Hammond.

'Almeida, you deserve to be here! That was MY laptop. I'm sorry for the warden!' He waved a hand at Hibbins, who opened his own bag and produced another laptop. It was the same model as the other laptop. Hibbins flipped it over and opened the cover for a hard drive. He replaced the drive from the broken laptop and reattached the cover. It was then placed in front of Tony and powered up. Tony was forced to tell him how to access the files as he was unable to touch it. He watched the files opening with a strange longing. This was his section; he had collected the information for himself, working on his own leads. Finally it was being used, proving all the hours he'd worked on them were not in vain. Somehow he had known those groups would turn dangerous.

Now someone else will get to investigate! Don't worry about it, Almeida. You'll get a visit tomorrow!

'What made you collect all this information?' Hammond asked curiously as the files were located and opened.

Tony gazed at the screen, remembering having written up the reports, making his own list of possible extremists. 'I didn't trust these guys. Something seemed wrong.' He fell silent. How could he explain to Hammond what he'd felt watching the Towers collapse. 'In the army they taught that if something feels wrong, it usually is. You got to stay focused.'

'Well it's a good job anyway,' Hammond said. 'A word of advice, Almeida. Stop rocking the boat. It won't get you anywhere. You committed treason and you're in prison for it. Accept that! You put yourself here. Causing disturbances won't get you released early. Nothing will ever get you released.' He stood up to go, followed by Hibbins.

Tony gazed at him, unable to keep silent. 'Mr. Hammond, my files are real detailed, the groups I monitored overlap. If you'd tell me what you're looking for I could help you.' He found himself hoping he would be asked to help, even if only here, shackled to the desk for an afternoon.

'No way, Almeida. You can't expect Division to work with a convicted traitor, can you? We'll take it from here.' Hammond knocked on the door.

'Mr. Hammond, these are my private files, I never expected anyone other than myself to use them. They're not sorted perfectly. If you're suspicious about a group, I can find all their contacts quickly. You don't need to tell me about your intel, just name the group and I'll find you everything I got much sooner than the best IT guy could.'

Hammond shook his head firmly, stepping outside the unlocked door. 'You still fail to understand the gravity of your crime, Almeida. You're a traitor; I'm not allowed to work with you. You're a disgrace to the nation.' He left without a backward glance at Tony.

'Goodbye, Mr. Almeida,' the young IT man said, following Hammond out.

Tony felt strangely drained after their visit. He had been threatened and had received two blows, but that was an almost everyday occurrence. It was the sight of the laptop with all his files that bothered him. His Intel was useful after all! At the time he had collected it he hadn't known whether he would need any of it. Only Michelle even knew of the existence of those files. Had she told Hammond about them? And why would she tell him about the files anyway? What were those groups planning? He felt cut-off from life.

Someone else will read my files and take the case. Tony Almeida will be returned to his cell and will get to have an exciting day sitting on his bed, or sitting in the corner.

What the hell. At least I'm clean.

Presently the guards returned and unshackled him, leading him back to the block. The other prisoners were still in the yard. Tony knew better than to ask to be taken outside to join them. He was uncuffed and left alone.

He lay on his bed, thinking of his parents. He would see them the next day, after four and a half months. It was going to be a difficult visit for all of them. They would see him in prison uniform, pushed around by guards, handcuffed and shackled. He would see them watching him, trying to pretend they hadn't noticed those chains. Hammond had called them "emotional people." That was hardly fair, given the circumstances. Which parent would sit calmly watching their child led into a courtroom shackled hand and foot, and be handed a life sentence? His parents had been silent, only attempting to bid him farewell as he was led away.

Tomorrow they'll see Convict Almeida! They've seen everything else so far – baby Tony, nursery school Tony, cute little elementary school Tony, tiresome nuisance Tony, high school Tony, university student, Private Almeida, Lieutenant Almeida and Special Agent Almeida. Tomorrow will hurt them real bad!

It would hurt him too.

Thanks to all my faithful reviewers, some new ones might be nice.