It rained the following day, so they were not permitted outdoors. At least the guards said it was raining, Tony thought sarcastically, lying on his back and staring aimlessly at the ceiling. It was impossible to know from there, with a frosted glass window, and so many doors between the main floor and the entrance to the block no damp smell ever found its way inside. He listened intently, unable to hear anything over the eternal cursing. If it was raining, it was only a mild drizzle, he decided – otherwise he would pick up some sound from the roof.

Ultimately it made little difference. As long as the guards refused to open the doors, they were stuck inside.

'Amigo, sit up,' Sanchez told him, irritated. 'How long are you gonna lie there gazing at nothing? Come play cards.'

I don't wanna play cards, I wanna go outside! I wanna go home. I wanna go to the beach!

'Snap out of it,' Sanchez said, clicking his finger above Tony's face.

Tony stared at him dully. 'Why? We're gonna be stuck inside all day.'

'So we'll play cards,' his cellmate told him, enthusiastically. 'Then maybe you can help me pass English. I've got a short test next week.'

'What!' Tony exclaimed, sitting up. 'You never told me. Sanchez, you'll never pass if you don't study.' He swung his legs off the bunk. 'Bring your exercise book. I'll show you how to plan an essay. Each one needs three main points, not a dozen, but three well thought out arguments.'

Sanchez handed him the pack of cards instead. 'You can deal amigo.'

Tony shook his head, placing them on the bed. 'No, not now. You need to pass essay writing, remember? Now let me think of a topic.'

Sanchez sighed heavily. 'We could write about why I hate our neighbors so much, amigo,' he suggested. 'I got many reasons.'

Tony spent the next hour trying to help him narrow down his list of reasons to three and describe them in greater detail, pleased to see the progress Sanchez was making. Really, he was reasonably intelligent. Just before they were released for lunch he had produced a well documented essay on the negative traits of their neighbors. 'What do you think, amigo, would that pass?'

'Yeah, it sure would,' Tony agreed, congratulating himself on his teaching skills. 'You'd get an 'A' for that, I guess.'

'I'd get an 'A'', Sanchez echoed, shaking his head. He picked it up, glancing through it one final time, before he pushed it through the bars and into the neighboring cell. 'They can read it too, it's about them,' he apologized, seeing Tony's thunderous expression. 'We don't talk about people behind their backs, you know.'

'You're nuts,' Tony sighed, preparing himself for some inevitable scuffling in the queue. 'Don't you learn, Sanchez? I don't wanna fight with them, ok. I got a visitor coming next week, I won't risk losing that, and I got to go speak to the Mexicans tomorrow, or whenever the hell Supervisor Lee decides it's not raining anymore!'

'Sorry,' Sanchez apologized, his sparkling eyes betraying his lack of regret. A string of oaths reached their ears a minute later. 'Seems they can read,' Sanchez said.

'Yeah,' Tony sighed. 'Did you hear that, Sanchez? They're gonna stab us when we go out in the yard next! You satisfied now?'

'Now amigo, they won't get anywhere near us, you'd wring their necks,' Sanchez comforted him. 'I've seen you fight, you're good. And we got some new Mexican friends.'

Tony buried his head in his hands, just as the siren wailed. The cell doors opened and everyone lined up silently, apart from the Aryan brothers, who gave Tony a vicious shove from behind. 'Hey you, spic! You wanna call us "ignorant bigots" again?'

'Not particularly,' Tony replied quietly, wishing the order to move would be given.

'Yeah, thought so. You're scared when you haven't got solid steel bars to hide behind.' Tony remained silent. 'You're shaking.'

Tony took a deep breath. 'I'd just prefer ignoring you,' he said honestly, relieved to find the queue shuffling forward.

There was an outraged hiss from behind, and he was kicked hard in the shins. 'I wouldn't do that again,' he warned as they reached the stairs, moving down in a snaking queue.

He felt another kick, twice as hard. Without breaking his stride for more than a second he turned, grasped the handrail and returned the kick, hitting the man's kneecap. The swearing he heard seemed almost second nature to him after five months in prison; he walked down the first row of stairs calmly. A shadow warned him of movement behind him and he grasped the railing firmly, a fraction of a second from being thrown over the side. The queue continued down, while Tony warned them to stop that moment before they'd all regret it. He got another shove from behind, causing him to slip and slide down three stairs before he was able to steady himself. Enraged, he turned and grabbed his attacker by the jumpsuit. 'Listen to me, you moron. Don't you dare touch me again, or you're dead.'

A hand grasped him firmly and he was hauled out of the queue and ordered to face the wall while the rest walked past. Two guards remained motionless beside him, holding his arms as the rest of the prisoners left the floor, before one of them activated his stun baton. A wave of pain hit Tony's neck, spreading like fire through his body, paralyzing him for several seconds before he slumped forward, gasping for breath. Sweat poured down his forehead and his stomach gave a dry heave as he fought to straighten. Oh God, that's far worse than a nightstick.

'Face the wall, convict,' snapped a guard, placing the stun baton back to his neck. Tony faced the wall, begging silently for divine assistance to avoid a second shot. One of the guards placed cuffs on his wrists and he was ordered to return to his cell. Fighting waves of nausea he stumbled upstairs, entered his cell and moved to the wall, expecting his cuffs to be removed.

One of the guards remained beside him with the stun baton while the other threw Sanchez's mattress on the floor, revealing a concrete base. The guard returned, removing his cuffs. 'Clothes,' he ordered, and Tony stripped reluctantly, knowing what was about to happen to him. 'Get on the bed,' snapped the same irritated guard and he climbed on, lying on his back, spreading his arms. Each one was cuffed to an iron ring at the edges of the bed, before they pulled his legs out and shackled them too, leaving him spread-eagled. 'Alright, convict, you won't be able to fight for a while. Supervisor Lee will decide how long you got,' one told him as they exited his cell, locking the door behind them.

Tony closed his eyes, fighting to steady his breathing. He longed to curl up in a ball and moan aloud. After a couple of minutes taking deep breaths he calmed himself enough to look up at the iron bed on top of him, thankful they decided to cuff him to the lower bunk. At least his picture remained concealed. His body felt cold and stiff against the unyielding concrete. Maldito sea. I would have been at lunch now!

The lunch hour passed excruciatingly slowly as he lay there, feeling the cold seep through his bones. Tony found himself looking forward to Sanchez's return, hoping he would place a blanket under him, but he failed to return when the other prisoners walked past the cell.

'Having fun, spic?' one of the Aryan brothers called, banging on his cell as he walked past. He gazed back impassively as they walked away. Where was Sanchez? By evening his arms and legs were stiff and his back was rigid. He hoped they would release him in time for dinner as he was terribly hungry, but the siren wailed without anyone entering his cell. The Aryan brothers laughed derisively as they walked past. 'Siesta time, is it, spic?' one yelled, spitting through the bars, hitting Tony's leg. 'You're missing dinner, you know.' They walked off hooting.

Tony chewed his lip, furious, raising his head to watch the spit on his leg. It's hardly fair, after all. We were both pushing each other, and only I got punished. I guess it helps, if the guards favor you…

The day dragged to an end without the return of his cellmate. Everyone returned from dinner, the Aryan brothers unable to yell any insult as they were followed closely by two guards. Tony watched them enter his cell, longing to be released.

'Convict Almeida, you've been sentenced to 24 hours of restraint. Supervisor Lee can't abide fighting.'

Tony closed his eyes momentarily before he turned to face them, seeking their eyes. 'At least bring me some water,' he begged. 'My cup's on the table.'

They laughed in amusement. 'You don't get anything while you're restrained, convict. Count yourself fortunate if you get released in time to join the lunch queue tomorrow!'

Tony felt his expression harden. 'Thanks,' he muttered, turning his face away.

'Don't mention it, con; it's what we're here for. Oh, and you've just missed tomorrow's lunch! Got any further comments?' They looked at him challengingly, one fingering his stun baton.

'No sir,' Tony muttered.

'Good,' the guard replied, clearly disappointed. 'We'll be seeing you tomorrow, then.' They exited his cell, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Go to sleep, Almeida, it'll make tomorrow come sooner. But I really need to go…Forget it, Almeida, you'll wait till tomorrow! Try hard, anyway!

He spent an uncomfortable night, too cold to sleep, recalling his best moments with Michelle. What would you say to them if you saw me now, sweetheart? I wander if you're sleeping now. I miss you SO much. He had a sudden vision of her sitting up in bed, frowning in anxiety. I can 'see' you, sweetheart.

To his amazement they released him soon after breakfast, ordering him to get up and face the wall. Tony climbed off the bed, unable to bend his legs and managed to get to the back of the cell. 'Tidy yourself up, convict, immediately. I'll be back in five minutes,' warned the guard.

He dressed with difficulty, wandering what was about to happen. Two guards returned five minutes later, placing him in cuffs and removing him from his cell. 'Alright, convict, we're leaving D Block. Any step out of line will result in another taste of the baton, is that clear?'

He agreed, mystified, following them over to the administration building and into an interrogation room. They shackled his legs to a chair and ordered him to wait silently. Tony ran through a list of possible people, unable to decide who had come to question him. Not his lawyer, he had nothing more to lose. Not Hammond, who had written a short letter insisting he not be disturbed again. He closed his eyes, resting, fighting down his anxiety.

The door opened and a golden haired man entered, glancing impassively at him. Tony gazed back equally impassive, noting the guards watched him for any hint of emotion. 'Alright, you can question him. Should you require assistance, just ring that bell. You may use non lethal force if he refuses to cooperate.' They left as the man nodded.

'So how are you, Tony?' he asked quietly, running his eyes expertly over the prisoner.

Tony rubbed his face, uncertain how to respond. 'OK' he replied quietly. 'How about you, Jack?' The conversation sounded unreal to him as he listened to himself speak, wandering why he was being visited.

Jack shrugged. 'I'm ok now, I've been through rehab. It wasn't exactly something I'll forget in a hurry.' He fell silent as they gazed at the table between them. 'I'm guessing you won't forget the last coupla months either.' Tony remained silent, waiting to hear why he came.

'So tell me how it's been,' Jack continued, after waiting to see whether he would speak.

Tony shrugged, fixing his gaze on the floor. 'I got what I deserved, right, Jack?' He narrowed his eyes, scowling at his colleague's shoes.

Jack shook his head exasperated. 'Don't be stupid, Tony. I'm doing my best to get you out, you know that! Would I bother, if I thought you guilty?'

Tony chewed his lip in silence, hardening his expression. 'Don't bother, it's not happening. Just go back to work and forget about me, ok. You don't wanna be associated with a traitor.'

'Will you stop that shit,' Jack snapped, growing irritated. 'I just lost my job yesterday, if you must know. Managed to hang onto my card, so it's my only chance to visit you like this.'

Tony raised his eyes for the first time since the conversation began. 'You're kidding? Why? You just said you're clean.'

'I am,' Jack replied, frowning slightly. 'Erin Driscoll, your replacement, doesn't think I'm trustworthy enough. She's already replaced me.'

Tony shook his head slowly. 'That's not right; you only took drugs to maintain your cover. They must know that.'

'They know. It made no difference. I'll get something else, don't you worry, I don't want to work for CTU anyway.'

Tony gazed at him in silent sympathy, seeing the pain momentarily in his friend's eyes. 'I'm sorry, Jack.'

'It's nothing compared to what you're going through,' Jack said quietly. 'Michelle asked me to visit you; she had a bad dream about you last night. She was worried you were stuck in some hole or something. Talk to me, Tony, I got to tell her something.'

Tony stared at him startled. 'She called you last night?' He gave a snort and shook his head.

'What happened last night, Tony?' They stared at each other for a moment before Jack sighed. 'I won't tell her, if you don't want me to.'

Tony shrugged. 'It wasn't much. There was a scuffle, and I got shackled to a concrete bed frame for 20 hours. I'd still be there now…'

Jack shook his head, shocked. 'Is that normal practice round here?'

'Oh, I guess so. You're lucky if you don't get locked in a cage, or thrown into a tiny dark cell where you get to spend 23 hours everyday. You get used to it in the end,' he lied, hoping Jack would believe him.

'Tony, I will get you out,' Jack promised, reaching forward to squeeze his shoulder, shocked to see Tony flinch. 'How many times have they beaten you?' he inquired, watching him with his keen interrogator's eyes.

'What difference does it make?' Tony muttered, ashamed of his reaction that obviously betrayed his time incarcerated. 'They teach you to take the rules seriously.'

'You're cold,' Jack observed. 'Take your shirt off,' he demanded suddenly, ignoring Tony's shaking head. 'Now, Tony. You don't want me to call a guard.'

Tony's expression hardened. He unzipped the top of the jumpsuit and pulled it off, removing his t-shirt. Jack pointed at his undershirt. Sighing heavily Tony pulled it off, fixing his gaze on the table.

'Get up, Tony,' Jack ordered, getting up himself and moving round the table to examine him. 'They taught you quite a lesson a coupla weeks ago, right?'

Tony shrugged, silent. 'And you're full of older bruises,' Jack observed, examining his ribs. 'Want to tell me about it?'

Tony shook his head, pulling his clothes on.

'I'll get you out, Tony, you gotta believe that. Hang in there, ok, and don't do anything stupid,' Jack warned.

'Jack, wait,' Tony said, sitting back in his chair. 'Can you do me a favor?'

Jack nodded. 'I need a piece of paper and a pen; I remembered my entire list of contacts for the guy who blew up that battleship. I sent my brother to CTU, but they didn't listen to him, and Hammond won't take my letter seriously. Would you be able to find someone who'll check these groups out?' he asked, writing rapidly.

He gazed up at his friend, wandering why he remained silent, shocked to see him rubbing his eyes. He returned his gaze to the paper, finishing his list rapidly, writing the location they were at on his computer. 'Jack, don't let them kill anyone else,' he begged. 'I was gonna give this list to Michelle, but she's away all month. These guys could return anytime.'

'We'll get them,' Jack promised his gaze steady again. 'You're a great agent, you should know that.'

Tony shook his head. 'No Jack, I'm a traitor. I'm a failure, too. My brother died on that ship, just after I let Hammond walk away without listening to me. It's my final case,' he finished, passing the paper to his friend. 'Good luck with finding a job.'

'Thanks' Jack said, placing the paper in his briefcase. He held his hand out, shaking Tony's. 'Goodbye, Tony.'

Tony returned the firm handshake, unable to keep from noticing the sandwich placed at the top of the bag. Involuntarily he swallowed, feeling his stomach rumble.

Jack shook his head, and pulled it out, handing it to him. 'Eat it, Tony. I'm sorry, I didn't think…'

Tony chewed his lip, battling briefly with his pride before he settled back at the table and devoured the sandwich, aware of Jack's scrutiny. Jack opened another zip on his briefcase and handed him a packet of candy. Wordless, he placed it in his pocket, unable to meet his friend's gaze.

'Tony, I'll get you out,' Jack promised, shaking his hand again before he rang the bell and left, leaving Tony struggling to force back hot tears.