They paused in front of his cell assuming their usual positions. A sick feeling began in his stomach as he rose from his corner, spreading upwards to his throat. Forcing his impassive look on his face he turned to face them, wandering where they intended to take him.

'Convict Almeida, you've been here long enough to know the drill without having to be told every time. Move to the back of your cell and face the wall. Place your hands behind your back.' The guard gave him a hard look and he moved to obey, having seen them entering unwilling prisoners' cells with tear gas. Facing the wall he listened for them opening his cell, knowing that four of them would enter and two wait outside, ready to lock his door if he showed the slightest sign of failure to cooperate. Once again his wrists were grabbed and cuffed.

Now what? I've already been punished for the note. Surely they're not going to beat me up.

'Where am I being taken?' he asked, not seriously expecting an answer. To his surprise he received one.

'You've got a visitor!'

'What?' he asked confused. He had been granted one visit with his parents due to his cooperation with Hammond's investigation, but the warden's imposed suspension on his normal visiting periods was nowhere near completion.

Don't tell me it's Hammond again! Relax Almeida, deal with it. You're leaving in two days anyway.

The guards shackled his feet and placed the belt on his waist, shackling that to his feet. Tony leaned against the wall fighting the urge to push them back. Another chain was attached to his belt and his hands were briefly removed from behind his back, being cuffed in front and attached to the chain. He bit back an angry comment as the guards tested all the chains. 'Alright, he's ready. Let's move, convict.'

He followed the two guards in front of him along the corridor aware of the four who watched his every step from behind. The steel door was opened, and they stepped into the space between them, waiting for the other door to open.

Wait a minute, Almeida! They're really taking you to the visitors' area. This can't be any official person; you're not going to the interrogation area…Something's wrong! Warden Brownlow isn't exactly the type to feel sorry for you missing your family.

His heart hammered against his chest. He remembered his unease the previous afternoon, the desire to take cover. His hands moved instinctively to rub his face, prevented from reaching anywhere near it by the chain. Reaching the outer block reserved for visitors he was stopped at the same official's desk.

'Convict Almeida,' began the guard, 'you've been granted a fifteen minute visiting period on compassionate grounds. The usual rules pertaining to visits apply. If I hear anything whatsoever about a prison employee or the routine here, the visit will be terminated.'

'Yes sir,' Tony agreed longing and dreading to see who had come to visit him so unexpectedly.

Easy Almeida. They said "compassionate grounds." You sure haven't seen anyone here demonstrate much of that! Something terrible has happened and someone's come to tell you about it. You already know, really. "Take cover, ON THE DOUBLE"

He saw his father's figure in the chair opposite his as he was led in and shackled to the table. 'Please papa, turn round and look at me,' he begged, knowing his father couldn't possibly hear him through the glass. Trembling hands picked up the phone, and he waved a hand against the glass to attract his father's attention. He watched his father turn to face him, swallowing as he glimpsed his pain filled eyes. He pointed to his phone, watching his father pick his up.

'Papa, its Bobby, isn't it?' Tony asked without waiting for his father to greet him. 'What happened?'

His father nodded, swallowing several times before attempting to speak. 'There was an explosion at the harbor. The entire quay blew up and the ship was badly damaged.' He fell silent and Tony closed his eyes, dreading to hear the next part, though he already knew. The hopelessness and grief his father showed told him all he needed to know, he just lacked the precise details. His father pulled himself together with an effort and faced him. 'They done everything they could for him, Tony. He wasn't in any pain.' He repeated the final sentence as though attempting to convince himself.

Oh shit, the hell he wasn't! Surviving an explosion and dying soon afterwards in anything other than excruciating agony is unheard of. I've seen it so many times before.

A wave of nausea took Tony and he leaned further against the chair. 'Did they take him to a hospital?' How long was he in agony?

His father shook his head. 'There were too many of them. They took them as fast as they could…'

They took the savable ones. They left him to die on the broken quay!

'They said they gave him some morphine while he waited.' His father brushed a hand across his eyes. 'Tony, you've spent years there. Do you really believe they did that?' His father gazed at him pleadingly.

'Yeah,' he muttered, forcing himself to meet his father's eyes. I'm sorry papa; I lied to you for the first time today. How can I tell you the truth? Do you really imagine they had that much morphine to go round hundreds of injured people? Do you think they could get to all of them on a blown up quay?

'He was coming home soon,' he heard himself say, biting his tongue. His father would be perfectly aware of that himself. How could it happen now? He was coming to visit me! There was something he wanted to tell me.

Tony wiped his eyes with his hands, fighting back his tears. On the opposite side of the glass his father brushed his own tears away. 'Tony, he was so young. So very very young. He was going to get married during this leave; he wanted to tell you himself. There's a little one on the way.'

He squeezed his eyes shut, picturing Bobby on the basketball court grinning at him after he scored a point. It took all his self discipline to focus on his father. He had so little time left to try and say something to ease his pain. 'Papa, it happened real fast. He was real happy now.' Carefully he reached for the glass, placing his hands opposite his face. He longed to throw his arms round his father and promise him he'd be there, they would get through it together. Blinking back more tears he forced himself to ask a final question. 'Did you see Sam?'

'Yes, she's devastated.'

'She must have loved him, to stick by him when they convicted me,' Tony said softly.

His father glanced at him startled. 'Tony, Bobby never considered you a…' He trailed off, unable to say the word "traitor." 'None of us do, you know that. He took this real bad,' he waved a hand at the cuffs. 'God, what an awful year, you locked away in this dump, and Bobby gone.' He shook his head, unable to say more.

'Papa, listen to me,' Tony begged, hearing the guard's approach. 'Papa, they're coming, listen now.' His father glanced at him. 'You got to stay strong for mom and the others, ok?' The guard stopped beside him, pointing to the phone. 'Just give me a minute to say goodbye, please,' he begged, looking so desperate the guard actually nodded.

'One minute, convict.'

'Papa, I love you. Tell mom I love her too, that I think of you two all the time. I'll always think of all of you everyday. Bye Papa,' he gasped, choking back hot tears as his father rose.

'Bye Tony. We love you too; we don't stop praying for you. You don't deserve this,' his father said, hanging up as a guard took the phone from him. Tony watched him led out of the room, waving as his father turned. Once his father left the room he buried his head in his hands, wiping his eyes.

'Convict, it's time to go,' said the same guard. 'Get up.' Tony stood up slowly and watched while his chains were all reattached. Completely drained he followed them back to B block, through the doors and into his cell.

'Amigo, what's up?' yelled Sanchez from across the floor. Tony ignored him, unable to speak. He stumbled over to his bed the moment the chains were removed and lay there, picturing his favorite brother.

"Tony will you come and watch me play basketball? Come on, the next time you get leave I won't even be at school anymore." "Tony, could you do this page of sums for me? I didn't have time yesterday, and Mr. Benning will be real mad." "Tony, would you come play with me a bit? I'll be Batman, and you can be the bad guy." "Tony, I made it! I'm a lieutenant now! How cool is that?"

Hot tears blinded him, pouring unchecked down his cheeks.

Bobby's never coming home again. He's never going to play basketball again, never going to tease the kids again, never even going to see his own kid. He just turned thirty and it's already over for him.

Last time I saw him he was returning to his ship at the port, exchanging hugs with me and kissing Sam. "I'll see you next year, Tony. Behave!" We were both ok then, both free and alive and healthy. God, if only this year never happened!

The rest of the prisoners went out to the yard, leaving him alone with his grief. Tony lay immobile on his bed, head buried in his hands. The same thought repeated itself dozens of times over – it should have been him. Bobby was young and had everything to live for; while his life was already so ruined he wouldn't have minded dying. The prisoners returned to their cells while he lay there so deep in misery he failed to hear their commotion. The trolley was wheeled past and his lunch was dumped on his slot. He remained on his bed, unable to find the heart to pick it up. A note sailed into his cell, landing beside the bed, lying on the floor in full view of any passing guard.

'Almeida, get up. Your friend will be in serious trouble if you don't hide that note, and you will be too, if you don't take the lunch,' snapped Martins' voice.

Slowly he pushed himself up, glancing at the note. Rodriguez wanted to know who visited him and what was wrong. Crumbling the note he flushed it down the toilet, taking his tray and sitting at the table. He picked through a little of his meal before flushing the rest away. Sick at heart, he dumped the tray into the slot with more force than necessary, hearing the sharp clang reverberate through his cell.

'Almeida, what happened?' Tony glanced dully into his neighbor's cell. Telling Martins to mind his damn business was on the tip of his tongue, but he remembered the amount of things the robber had leant him.

'My brother got killed on duty yesterday in Kuwait,' he managed to say.

Martins pressed his face closer to the bars. 'Not in the blast that damaged a destroyer?' he questioned. How in the world he knew about that was beyond Tony, but he was too depressed to think about it then.

'Yeah. Some local bastards forgot the help we gave them.' He chewed his lip so hard it bled.

Martins sighed heavily, strangely silent. 'Almeida, one of ours done that,' he admitted finally. He was born right here in LA, so no one suspected him. He was a Muslim, but didn't seem particularly religious before. He was an explosives expert, that's why the whole quay went up. Guess we trained him real well.'

A stray thought crept unbidden into his brain. "We've received Intel on a group you've been monitoring two years ago." "…they're waking up." "Where's your file of inconclusive, ongoing reports?" He leaned closer to the bars, trembling.

'Would you know the name of the guy who done it?' He's on your list Almeida, he must be. You had all Muslims monitored who served in the armed forces.

'Ahmed Aziz.'

Tony closed his eyes, forcing his brain to recall his entire list of thousands of names. Aziz, Aziz, he had heard the name before. 'He spent a year in college in Kuwait,' he exclaimed, remembering the report.

'How could you know that?' Martins asked. 'Oh, I forget, you were a Federal Agent.'

Yeah I was one. Damn it, I would've picked something up! Hammond did too, that's why he came for my list – only Hammond failed to connect the data. He wouldn't tell me what he was specifically looking for, wouldn't let me help, and now a ship is badly damaged, over a hundred people are dead, dozens more critically injured, and Bobby's gone. I'll kill you if I ever see you again, Hammond! You should have told me what's going on! I COULD HAVE HELPED PREVENT THIS!

'They're looking for him everywhere, but they got no leads.'

So the bastard got away free!

'Almeida, I'm real sorry,' Martins told him.

'Yeah,' he answered, fuming.

'You got to relax now, or you'll end up in trouble again, and you won't manage your escape.'

'What?' Tony exclaimed, startled. 'What the hell makes you think I want to do that?'

'I see the planning. I hear some whispers. Almeida, you're a good man, I hope you do make it out.'

Tony walked away, unwilling to expose himself, unable to trust anyone. He wandered how many other people heard a few whispers, deciding he had to go the next afternoon before it became common knowledge and someone would mention it to the guards. The last thing he needed was their increased vigilance. The afternoon passed slowly, Tony deep in contemplation of everything he recalled about Aziz. There was a group, he was certain – Aziz couldn't have achieved such an explosion alone. He longed to ask for the use of a computer but knew that part of his punishment consisted of being denied access to another one for the remainder of his life.

They were led outside to the shower that evening, carrying a clean set of clothes with them. Tony hung his clothes on a peg and pulled off his grimy ones, grabbing a towel. He threw the dirty ones into the large plastic basket in a corner of the bathroom and went to stand under a shower, next to Rodriguez, waiting for permission from the guards to turn the tap on. 'I'm sorry for not answering your note,' he apologized, watching the gang leader shake his head.

'It's ok, fed. You had some bad news today. Are you OK?'

Tony nodded; turning on the ice cold water the moment he noticed others do so. Once again the chill hit him, making him gasp for breath. Rapidly he pressed soap into his hand, rubbing himself all over, cursing its failure to lather. Rinsing it off under the icy water he allowed himself to relax slightly. He wouldn't be caught out without having washed the soap off himself a second time – he knew he was only permitted water for three minutes, less if the guards happened to be in sour moods.

'You still able to…'

'Yeah,' he answered, turning to allow water to reach his hair. He rubbed soap rapidly onto his head and stepped back under, scrubbing it out. His skin felt a lot cleaner, though he still hadn't managed to get over his dislike of the lingering scent of cheap soap. He walked back to his peg and rubbed himself dry, pulling on his pants.

'Amigo,' Rodriguez told him, coming up to him half dressed. 'You got yard time again tomorrow.' Chatting about having missed him, he pushed something into the startled Tony's hand. 'We'll see you out there, so we can talk.' He wandered away and Tony slid his hand into his pocket, feeling a crumpled piece of paper there. He pulled the rest of his clothes on and sat down on the bench to slip his feet into his shoes, wandering what note he had been given.

Back in his cell he pulled out a 20 dollar note, holding it in front of him in amazement. It was worth a fortune inside, able to bribe others with or buy some food or other necessary item. Swallowing hard he moved to the bars, craning his head upwards. 'Rodriguez,' he yelled, hearing an answer. 'Gracias.'

He bade them farewell the next morning in the yard, blinking in the bright sunshine. The weather was warmer than it had been since his arrest and several prisoners wore blue caps, seeking the meager shade of the buildings. They took it in turn to wish him luck, Rodriguez demanding he go over his plans one final time. 'Trust me, fed; I've seen many attempts at escape. Tell me yours and I'll find the flaws.'

'I have to leave sometime in the late afternoon, just before the shift change, so I can walk outside with the guards rather than hang around somewhere,' Tony began. They nodded, impressed with his reasoning. 'Its best then, coz it'll be getting dark soon. I'll be in my cell at the time; I got to do something bad to get them to take me to the warden. It's got to be something that'll really piss them off, coz I must get taken to the warden, rather than to A Seg, which would be the wrong way. Help me out, guys. I can't think what I can do that's so bad it'll get me sent to the warden rather than just get me beaten by Davis. Is it ok to just scribble my whole cell with a biro?'

'Not good enough!' exclaimed Sanchez. 'That'll only get you A seg and Davis. No, amigo, you need to do something that'll really deserve the hole, coz only the warden can sentence you to that.'

Tony shook his head slowly. 'I could play sick,' he suggested, wandering how they would react to the idea. 'They'll have to take me to medical, which is the same way.'

They all shook their heads together. 'No, fed, they wouldn't go for it,' Rodriguez told him. 'They've all seen you out in the yard. Remember, no one gets taken to the doctor unless he's bleeding or unconscious. They'll never believe you're unconscious, they'd leave you lying on the floor for hours and you'd miss the shift change, whilst if you cut yourself, it would have to be real bad before they'd bother to do anything about it. It's not the time to cut yourself, fed, before an escape, it could get infected outside. No, your first idea is better, do something to annoy them.'

'You need to create a hell of a disturbance,' said a younger thief cheerfully. 'Set fire to something.'

'That's it, amigo!' cried Sanchez eagerly. 'You'll set fire to your bed! That's a sure way of ending up in the SHU!'

A smile crept across Tony's face as he pictured his bed burning. 'I don't…'

'You need a lighter,' said Rodriguez, waving a hand at a couple of younger thieves who disappeared silently. 'Amigo, they'll come in full riot gear, no one's ever tried that here yet. Don't allow them in too soon; they need to get real pissed off! Keep them talking!'

Tony nodded. 'I can do that,' he said, never at a loss for a few wise comments. 'Thanks for everything, guys. We're gonna see a little disturbance this afternoon!'