'You want to tell me about it?' Dr Lahti inquired, opening the blinds. Sunlight flooded inside the room, warming Tony's face.

'There's nothing to tell,' Tony replied, raising his left hand to rest on the bandage round his eyes. 'Do these come off too?'

'They do. It's gonna be a little bright at first,' the doctor warned him, moving to draw the blinds halfway. 'That's better, I guess. Now lie still.' Tony lay back; feeling a long bandage circling his head unwrapped. 'Keep your eyes closed for a minute, let them adjust.'

Tony opened his eyes slowly a minute later, blinking in the dim light. 'Well, how's your vision?' The doctor hovered over him anxiously, holding a small lamp.

'Its fine,' Tony assured him. 'Look, can you wait a while with that lamp?'

'Sure,' the doctor agreed, pulling a chair beside the bed. 'I wasn't even aware they transferred you till they brought you down last week, Almeida. I've had the warden himself down here, insisting on extra security round you. Seems you've got quite a reputation, since your escape!'

'Undeserved,' Tony snorted. 'It's not exactly going to make any escape books! What about you, why are you here?'

'Warden Brownlow gave me a choice, basically, either I apply for a transfer here, or I get fired,' Dr Lahti remarked. 'We had a slight disagreement on the availability of prescription drugs. You ready to let me examine your eyes now?'

'Yeah,' said Tony, doing his best to gaze at the small light. 'You mean you wanted to treat sick people?'

'Putting it into plain English, yes,' said the doctor, nodding in satisfaction. 'That eye's fine. Let me check the other one.'

'You got replaced by someone who understands the value of saving,' Tony couldn't resist adding. 'He removed a bullet with barely any anesthetic. Guess he and Brownlow will make a good team.'

'I expect so. Almeida, I'm sorry I can't bring you a TV here, you've got a guard stationed outside the room, and he would certainly forbid it.'

'It's ok,' Tony said disappointed. 'There's one thing you could do for me, doctor. It would mean a lot to me.' He gazed hopefully at the doctor, wandering how decent he was.

'Ask,' sighed the doctor, replacing his lamp.

'I need to write a letter to my parents that won't get censored. It's ok, it's not about anything bad, it's just family…It's no one else's business.' His head remained on the pillow while his eyes followed the doctor's expression.

'That would get me fired without fail,' Lahti told him. Tony nodded, feeling his final hope drain from him. Slowly he turned away from the doctor and faced the wall. 'I guess my father will come join me then.'

'What?' asked the doctor, greatly surprised.

'Why would you care?' Tony muttered, examining the bricks. 'He just can't bear to see me here alone; he thinks he could help me if he got sent here. I know him, he wouldn't last a month! He'd kill the first person who laid a hand on me – he wouldn't understand you get hurt all the time here…'

'Write your letter,' Dr. Lahti told him, getting up rapidly. 'I'll post it.' He laid a pen on the bed and returned a short while later with a couple of sheets of paper folded neatly under his white coat. 'Take your time; I'll be back just before dinner. The guard might look in though,' he warned.

'Thanks,' Tony said, writing, deep in thought, his ear listening for anyone turning the handle.

Dear Mom and Papa

Don't ask how this letter got out, just accept it. I can't even tell you how much I miss you guys. It's harder than when I was deployed in the Gulf, because then I knew when my next leave was due, and I could call you whenever I felt like it (almost every evening). This is so much harder to take as I know you are really quite close.

Right now I'm fine, apart from feeling sorry for myself. I'm in a cell all by myself and it's pretty quiet. He sighed, wandering just how far the truth could be stretched before it became a blatant lie. You mustn't worry about me. Apart from having lost my visiting privileges for a while, I'm ok. I can still receive mail and it would be great if you'd send some food.

Papa, you mustn't think of coming to join me! Just listen till the letter's over, please. Jack keeps promising he'll get me a pardon, so I'm fully prepared to wait till the president's last day, if I have to. If he won't grant me one, I've got another plan, one I've got a little time to perfect. I'm going to run for it again, only this time I'll do better. I really need to get some coffee soon!

I haven't had as much as a smell of it since my arrest. Remember when you had to take me with you to the office, Papa, when I was five, and you were talking to a client, and I managed to spill the whole contents of the coffee machine on this brand new carpet? That was my first cup, and I've had one every day since, so it's real hard to live without.

Please write soon, it's the only thing I wait for in the mornings. I love you both

Tony

He wrote a short letter to Jack, outlining his father's plans and begging him to go and speak to his parents. The final letter was to Michelle, assuring her of his love, repeating his words that everything he faced was worth it in repayment for her life. He placed all three letters under his blanket when he was finished and closed his eyes, resting, aware his time in the infirmary was limited.

Two guards came for him three days later, watching while he dressed. Tony pulled on a clean uniform, grateful to the doctor for his long rest and the shower he had been permitted to take that morning by himself. Bending down he pulled his shoes on, aware of the guards' growing impatience. 'Move it, convict.'

The doctor was off duty when he walked through the infirmary. He felt sorry leaving without thanking him, but he had no choice. His footsteps echoed down the silent corridor as they left the infirmary and headed into the administration block. Guards hurried about along the main floor, paying no attention to him as he was led outside and across the first courtyard. Heart beating rapidly, he followed his guards, relieved to notice them heading to D Block.

Tony was handed over to another pair of guards from the block and they glanced at a computer while he waited, facing the wall. 'Alright Almeida, lets go,' one said finally, and he was pulled around. He followed them across the floor, noting the interest his return generated. The guards began to climb the metal staircase and he followed, noting he wasn't being placed in a single cell. They climbed past the second floor and continued upwards. Tony found himself hoping he would be locked up with Sanchez again, aware of his general weakness. The climb up to the third floor exhausted him.

The leading guard paused outside his old cell, running his card through the slot. A faint buzz sounded and the door swung open, pulled wider by the guard. 'Face the wall, convict,' he ordered, and Tony waited while his cuffs were removed, his face blank. He waited while the guards left before allowing a grin on his face. 'Hi, Sanchez.'

'Amigo,' Sanchez exclaimed, shaking his hand vigorously. 'You're still alive! We heard what they were doing to you. Sit down.' He helped Tony into a chair. 'You look awful.'

'Yeah,' Tony agreed. He sank into the chair, struggling to keep his eyes open. 'How've you been? How's the truce holding up?'

'I'm fine, and so is the truce,' Sanchez informed him. 'Look, why don't you lie down and get some sleep? I'll get you up in time for dinner.'

Tony nodded and stumbled over to his bunk, Sanchez having to help him climb up. 'She's still here,' his friend told him, pulling back the blanket to reveal the photo. Tears filled Tony's eyes as he lifted it gently, placing her beside his face. 'All your books are back too, but I don't know what happened to your letters,' Sanchez continued.

'They're gone,' he said bitterly, closing his eyes.

Sanchez woke him just before dinner, watching silently while he climbed down and put on his shoes. 'Why did they stopped beating me?' Tony inquired, glancing at him. 'They said something about some Mexicans? How come I got returned here, to you? The warden sure isn't pleased with me!'

Sanchez glanced awkwardly round the cell while he waited. 'They told the warden there wouldn't be a single guard left alive on D Block if they didn't quit hurting you and allow you back at once,' he admitted.

'And the warden took it seriously?' Tony scoffed. 'Doesn't seem like the kinda guy to be frightened by that kinda crap.'

'It's no bullshit,' Sanchez told him seriously. 'They meant it, and he knew that. He promised you'd be returned as soon as you got outa the hospital.' They gazed at each other in silence for a while before the siren wailed. 'Come on, they're all waiting to talk to you.'

Tony blinked, pulling himself up. Seems like I survived another nightmare. How many more are still ahead? Everything I touch goes wrong, just like outside…

His brooding was interrupted by both Perez and Gonzales, who settled on either side of the table, surrounded by members of their gangs. 'You look bad, Almeida!' stated Perez. 'What did the warden want when he took you in for questioning?'

Tony swallowed a piece of potato and shrugged. 'Almeida, I stuck my neck out for you,' Perez chided him mildly. 'What did that bastard want?'

'Oh, he just wandered what we all discussed that dinner,' Tony sighed, unable to feel hungry. Waves of nausea rushed through him, and he handed his plate to Sanchez. 'You can have it.'

The entire table gazed at him in concern. 'You'll get weaker, agent,' Gonzales remarked.

Tony's eyes closed before he could help it, he forced them open again. 'I still feel a bit sick,' he admitted unnecessarily. Slowly he raised his mug of tea, sipping it.

'You shouldn't be here yet,' Fernandez told him. 'Looks more like you should be in the infirmary with a drip.'

'I'm ok,' he replied, wishing he really were.

'You want to mention a few names, Almeida? Tell us who beat you up?' Perez inquired, a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

Tony laid down his mug and shook his head. 'No. There's been way too much killing here already.' They gazed at him disappointed. 'As long as you're safe, leave others alone,' he advised, finishing the last of his tea.

He could tell they were unimpressed with his suggestion, that they would not follow it, but they kept their objections to themselves, noting his poor condition. Someone passed him an untouched mug of tea which he drank gratefully, enjoying the temporary feeling of safety. All too soon the siren wailed and they lined up in their rows, ready for being returned to their cells.

Tony lay back on his bunk, watching Sanchez lay out packs of cards on the table and play solitaire, content to watch. He was too exhausted to attempt conversation, but was grateful to his friend for talking to him, relating all the happenings in the yard without expecting any replies.

'And nothing else happened expect we got four new Arabs, so I guess you'll have a chance to practice your Arabic with someone,' Sanchez concluded his monologue. 'Though they look a little unfriendly.'

Tony rolled onto his side, propping his head on his elbow. 'Do you know their names?' he inquired casually.

Sanchez laughed in delight. 'Well, I got your attention, amigo! I figured if that wouldn't, you'd be heading for the morgue. You probably heard of them, they're in for treason, same as you.'

Tony sat up, frowning exasperated. 'Come on, Sanchez, tell me their names,' he said firmly.

'They weren't mentioned in your letter to your boss,' Sanchez continued, 'but they were returned from somewhere in the Middle East…'

'Sanchez,' Tony snapped, losing patience.

'Al Batal, Daoud, al Hallaj and one more I can't remember' Sanchez told him. 'If you ask me, they're bad.'

'They were with Aziz, they helped blow up that port,' Tony exclaimed, his face turning a shade darker. 'What are they doing here? They should be interrogated about other terrorist activities.'

'Don't ask me,' Sanchez said hurriedly. 'Maybe they don't know anything more…'

Tony scowled in silence, unwilling to believe it. 'I didn't notice them tonight.'

Sanchez shook his head. 'No, amigo, they eat at a separate table right up the front. They eat special food,' he explained, reshuffling his cards. 'Want to play a bit?'

'Just one game,' Tony told him, noticing the look of hope in his face. 'So now we got to cater for them separately?' he said bitterly. 'After they killed over 300 naval personnel. It's not right.'

'I don't know about you, amigo, but have you noticed many fair things happening round here?' Sanchez asked.

Tony shook his head in silence; taking the pack he was handed.

'Amigo, you promised you'd do something for me.' Sanchez began hesitantly.

Tony shifted his gaze upwards without moving his head, waiting for him to continue.

'I got nine more months here, so if you could help me write to my wife…'

Tony grinned and nodded. 'Yeah, I'll do that first thing in the morning. Don't worry, she'll come see you, but then it's up to you.'

He went to bed early, staring in silence at the ceiling above him, sorting through the previous fortnight. Please let Jack get me a pardon, he prayed. I feel so sick, it still hurts to move. I just can't stay here.