Tony sat in his customary corner, head leaning against the wall. His eyes rested on his bed, his toilet, washbasin, and the cold grey tiles before they climbed a wall and focused on the bright light set high into the ceiling. No sound reached his ears from outside, though he was certain it was morning. Breakfast would be pushed through his slot any minute, and he would finish it rapidly and return his tray, and make a mark on the wall behind his bed, a new mark for a new day. So far he had kept track of the passage of time religiously, never failing to make a scratch on the surface of the wall. Today he would count how many scratches there were, he decided, and work out how many months it amounted to. He had time today, as he had been out in the 'yard' the day before, walking in his tiny cage for his permitted thirty minutes.
His slot banging open distracted him from his plans. Placing his palms hard against the floor he pushed himself up, walking the two and a half steps to the front of the cell slowly. Without looking at his bowl he knew it was filled with porridge. Carefully he placed it on the floor, eating each spoonful with a sip of tea, hating the taste more with each consecutive day.
Tony waited while his tray was removed before picking up the small stone he had discovered in his shoe the day they locked him in here, and made another scratch. Replacing the stone under his bed he crouched on the floor, counting the scratches. 'One two three four, five,' he removed the stone and circled it, counting the next five. He added up all the days, shaking his head in disbelief. It had appeared he had been here for ages, and no wander. 'Three months,' he said aloud, giving his head a slight shake. 'Just over three months!'
Once again he returned to the corner, giving in to his urge to daydream. It was daytime, and not night, but the two appeared to have little meaning these days. Occasionally he worried about the increasing amount of time he spent 'away' from reality, but he would slip into another dream before he could finish his thought, ignoring the warning that lay at the end of it. You'll lose it, Almeida. The thought hadn't filled him with as much dread over the last few weeks. If I lose it, I'll be home all the time, and they won't have ME any longer.
His body was all they had anyway, was his last thought before he saw his men assembled before him, weapons at the ready. Koskinen stepped forward, saluting smartly for the benefit of Captain Anderson, who watched from his office window. 'Everyone present and accounted for, sir,' he said. Tony nodded. 'Very good, sergeant. We're going on a raid this morning. Need I remind you that this mission is classified?' His eyes searched his men, reading complete loyalty to him. They would follow him to hell and trust that he would return them safely, as he always had so far.
An unexpected sound distracted him from his picturing the men climbing into the transport. Tony frowned, puzzled, his eyes turning to regard his door. Why would it be unlocked today, when he obviously wasn't due for any yard time? He had been taken to the bathroom for a shower six days ago, so he certainly wasn't due for clean clothes either, not for another week or so, and that was in the evening anyway. 'Huh,' he muttered, turning his head finally to watch the door open.
A guard entered, followed by a second and third. Tony's heartbeat increased, wandering apprehensively what he had done to merit punishment this time. Why hadn't they ordered him to push his hands through the slot so they could cuff him, as they always did with SHU prisoners? Trembling slightly he stood up and faced the wall, noting another two guards entering the cell. One placed cuffs on his hands, another put a stun baton to his neck, and gave him a push, nobody speaking a word to him. Forcing his impassive mask on he turned and followed them outside, along the floor and over to the steel door. One guard opened it with his access card and Tony found himself outside the SHU for the first time.
It was an overcast day, grey sky hanging close to the ground as he followed them across the courtyard and past the blocks that housed prisoners on general population. For a moment he had a hope that he was being returned, but the guards bypassed them and crossed more open space, heading purposefully towards the administration block.
So I'm to see the warden. Wander why? He said I got a year in the SHU, and it's not even halfway through yet. I know for sure I haven't pissed anyone off, no one even spoke to me beyond ordering me to move for three months now, and even then they usually just banged on the cage when I had to go back inside. He was unable to feel excited as he neared the block, having sensed his hope die in the silence of the SHU. Maybe he got me the death penalty he promised. He found himself welcoming the thought as they entered the administration block and walked along the corridor to the warden's office.
Instead of waiting a guard knocked on the door and opened it, stepping inside. Tony was given a push and he entered, followed by two more guards, one still holding the stun baton. 'Alright, you can leave,' the warden said, and two of the guards left, much to Tony's amazement. One remained, leaning against the wall, watching him for any movement.
'Convict Almeida, you are an extremely fortunate man,' began the warden, pursing his lips in obvious disapproval. 'It seems like your crimes are to be overlooked. You're to be given a second chance.' He pushed a document to the back of his desk, and Tony blinked, unable to believe what he had been told. His eyes searched the paper, a presidential pardon, an identical document to the one he had seen before at CTU, this one with his own name on it.
'That one's yours to keep,' the warden was telling him, while he struggled to comprehend the total meaning of the document. 'You're free to go, convict. You'll need to nominate someone to pick you up, and you'll need to complete a few forms.' He gazed at Tony, who stared back silently, unable to gather his thoughts. I'm free to go! I can go! I can go now!
'Who should I call?' pressed the warden, impatiently, disapproval written on his face.
Tony stared at the document, reading his name for the tenth time. 'My wife,' he said finally, forcing his gaze to meet the warden's.
'Alright, remove his cuffs,' said the warden, and called a number, while the guard freed his wrists. Instinctively he rubbed them together, longing to hear Michelle's voice. 'I see. OK, that's fine.' The warden turned back to him. 'Your wife is out on a case. Pick someone else.'
Tony rubbed his face, sick at heart. For a moment he had hoped to see Michelle in the next few hours, and yet again he was unable to.
'Almeida, who shall I call,' snapped the warden, phone in his hand.
'I'll go home by myself,' Tony said softly, his gaze returning to the document.
'That's impossible,' replied the warden, losing patience. 'This prison is too far from town to enable you to do so. Give me a contact, or you get to stay another day.'
Tony wasn't certain as to the legality of that final statement, but it galvanized him to action. He rubbed his face harder, thinking of his relatives. The truth was that he had not been permitted to receive mail for the previous three months, so he was uncertain as to the exact whereabouts of any of them. 'Call my parents' home,' he said finally. 'Someone will be there.'
He waited silently while the warden dialed again. Someone answered within a few rings, and he strained to hear the voice on the other end of the line. 'To whom am I speaking?' queried the warden. 'I see. I have a presidential pardon for Antonio Almeida. He's free to go whenever someone collects him. You'll do that? Alright, fine.'
'Could I speak…?' Tony began.
The warden shook his head and replaced the phone. 'You don't imagine the tax payers will foot an unnecessary long distance call?' he asked, shaking his head. 'You'll get to talk soon enough.' He turned to the guard. 'Escort Almeida to interrogation room 4 and hand him the release forms. Make certain he fills them all in.'
'Yes sir,' said the guard, opening the door.
'Don't forget your pardon,' reminded the warden, pointing to the form on his desk. Tony wiped moist fingers in his trousers and picked it up. An official pardon. I can go home, but it doesn't go one step further. I'm not exonerated, only pardoned. That means I got a criminal record…
He shrugged the lingering worry away and followed the guard back down the corridor and into another, entering a plain interrogation room. 'Sit down, and I'll bring you the forms,' stated the guard, and left, locking him in. Tony laid the pardon on the table and stared at it, swallowing. You done it, Jack, you got me out of here. You actually got me out! I owe you one.
He rubbed a hand across wet eyes, pulling his mask back on as he heard the door unlocked. The guard returned, handing him a stack of forms and a black pen, ordering him to fill in every section. He gave Tony a hard stare and left, locking the door behind him.
Ok, lock it, you bastard. I'm going home soon anyway. He worked through the detailed forms in front of him, noting one of them was the same as the document his impatient clerk had filled in at LA Federal, on his arrest. Mustn't forget to fill in Section C – place of birth if different from state of arrest.
The guard looked in two hours later and escorted him to a bathroom, handing the forms to a clerk. Tony was ordered to remove his uniform and have a shower. He washed, scrubbing his skin and hair, attempting to remove as much of the prison grime as he could. To his surprise he received his clothes back. He shuddered as pulled them on, remembering the last time he had worn them, the way he had removed them at LA Federal. Once he was dressed he was handed a razor and some shaving cream. 'Tidy yourself up, Almeida. Your family might not want you back if they see you like this!'
My family will always want me, you bastard, no matter what I look like or what I do.
He was led back to the interrogation room and ordered to wait, hearing the door lock. He paced the room, his excitement rising. In a couple of hours someone would be here, to collect him. He pictured his family, wandering who would come, his father, his mother, or one of his brothers or sisters. Which one of them had been home and answered the call. After a while he moved to the corner and sat down, resting his head, aware of the seven hour drive facing whoever came for him, knowing he had to curb his impatience. Lunch was brought to him on a tray, consisting of basic prison fare. Tony settled at the table and thanked the unfamiliar guard, watching his face carefully. 'May I go and say goodbye to a couple of people?' he asked. The guard shook his head.
Tony frowned, requesting a few sheets of blank paper. He wrote a short note to Perez and Gonzales, bidding them farewell, and a longer letter to Sanchez, wishing him success in his future. When the door was next unlocked he handed them out. 'Almeida, follow me.' Heart beating rapidly, he left the room and walked down a corridor, past the main administration desk and into a lounge set with orange plastic chairs. A box was handed to him at the counter, and he took out his watch and wallet. His books were in a plastic bag, together with his last few letters that had been received after Summers. Even as he glanced through them, counting them automatically, he was aware of someone's presence in the corner of the room, standing beside the door. Slowly he turned, his eyes resting on his youngest brother.
'Tony!' he cried, grinning broadly, rushing across the room. Tony laid down his bag and hugged him tightly. A shudder ran through him as he held someone close for the first time in a year. Someone's heart beat against his own; someone's arms gripped him, overjoyed to see him.
'Joey! How are you?'
'Come on, I'll tell you everything on the way home,' Joey told him, picking up his bag. 'You got everything?'
'Aha,' he replied, watching as a guard opened the door and led them through the outer courtyard to the gate, allowing them through. The door slammed behind them, echoing in the silence. Tony stared at it, rooted to the spot, watching the lit walls and towers. How are you, Sanchez? They told me you made it, but they never said in what condition. Who did they put you in with? Hang in there, you only got another three months…
'Come on,' Joey said gently, grabbing his elbow. 'You sure don't want to stay any longer, do you? Let's go home!'
He nodded silently as he followed his brother across the courtyard to his car. Jo unlocked the door and he climbed in, staring backwards at the prison, lost in thought. He noticed his brother cast him a worried glance before switching on the car. They began to move, slowly through the car park and out onto a long narrow road that led into the shabby settlement whose main employment was generated by the federal prison. Tony forced himself to watch the dark road, lit only by the car's headlights as they gathered speed. They drove in silence for several miles, Tony aware he should speak, say something to his brother who had driven all day to fetch him and would now drive almost the entire night, but unable to formulate a sentence.
'Are you hungry?' Joey asked eventually, watching the road for large holes. 'I got some decent sandwiches, the kind you like. They're on the back seat.'
'Thanks,' Tony replied, turning to grab two of them. He unwrapped the first one and handed it to his brother, before biting into his own.
'I got some coffee too, in that flask,' Joey told him, pointing to something beside his seat. 'I made it just after the warden called, and then I wrote a note to mom and Papa and I came. I guess you wanna go see Michelle as soon as you can, but would you come in for just ten minutes. They owe you a few thousand hugs.'
Tony nodded, leaning back in the seat. 'Aha. Tell me what everyone's been doing. I didn't get any mail for the last three months.'
Joey spoke quietly, an eye on the road, describing the previous three months in detail, beginning with their parents and continuing with their eldest sister, and down the line, while he listened, storing it all. It appeared a lot of them were away for the moment. Jane and Sandy had gone to Chicago to stay with their grandmother who was unwell "bored" at present, Anna and John had flown to England to open a tennis school there and planned to stay a year, Marco of course was away in the Gulf…Tony swallowed, having pictured them all at home every night as he lay silently on his bed, all of them, including Bobby.
'Bob,' he began.
Jo nodded. 'The baby's come,' he said. 'He looks exactly like Bobby; Sam called him Roberto, would you believe it? They're staying home with mom and Papa for the moment. They didn't want to give her Bobby's pension, but we asked Michelle for help, and she sorted it out.'
Tony nodded again. 'Yeah, she's good at that type of thing.' He fell silent again, picturing the knife at her throat. "I'll rip your throat out…" A wave of regret washed over him. I should NEVER have allowed Chappelle to order her to the hotel. 'I don't deserve this pardon,' he said softly. 'I knowingly let everyone down. There's dozens of guys inside who had an awful start and made one bad decision, and they get to stay coz they don't know anyone who'll speak up for them.'
Joey glanced at him startled, failing to notice a pothole in the road. 'Sorry,' he said, turning his attention back to his driving. 'Tony, you can't mean that. You're a good guy.'
Tony shook his head and gazed out of the side window, deep in thought. He didn't realize he had fallen asleep until a hand shook him firmly. 'Tony, wake up. We're home.' He stirred, seeing his parents' house with a light on in front. The door opened and his mother rushed out, pulling him from the car.
'Tony, sweetheart, you're home! Come here.' She hugged him tightly, pressing him against her. 'I can't believe I get to hold you again.' She hugged him tighter. Tony hugged her back, blinking back hot tears. He hadn't realized the extent to which he had craved their love.
'Antonio, you're safe!' He turned, wrapping his arms round his father.
'Yeah, I'm fine. They let me out. Guess they figured I wouldn't betray anyone again.'
His father stared at him, searching his eyes, obviously worried by what he saw there. 'Tony, they pardoned you. Put it behind you now; try not to remember what happened inside.' He looked back at Tony, drawing him aside from the group. 'I know you went through hell in there, Tony. I'm not such a fool as to believe you can forget it all in a few days, but try not to dwell on it. You're safe now, you're home, and no one's going to hurt you again, ever. You've got a gorgeous wife waiting for you.' He smiled reassuringly at his son, giving him another hug.
Tony nodded, standing in the garden awkwardly, uncertain what was expected of him as no one had snapped an order.
'Why don't I drive you home to Michelle now,' said his father gently, exchanging a glance with his wife. 'We'll come see you tomorrow, after you have a good sleep.'
Tony nodded, giving his mother another hug before turning to follow his father to his car. Wordless, he placed his things on the back seat and climbed in. Mentally exhausted by the unusual stimulation, he was content to sit in silence and listen to his father on the short drive.
His house had a light on upstairs, with the downstairs rooms all lit. Tony leaned against the seat, staring at the building in silence, his fingers twisting the seatbelt. His father laid a hand on his shoulder a few minutes later. 'Antonio, let's go. She'll be waiting.'
Tony swallowed, having played the scene out dozens of times, his heart hammering in his chest. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came, and his father gently unbuckled him. Tony watched him step out and walk round the car, opening his door. Their eyes met and climbed out, collecting his bag, clutching it to him for security. 'Come on,' his father told him gently, leading the way up the path. He rang the bell and moments later footsteps sounded, rushing down the hall.
The door was flung wide open and his father smiled at her, pushing him forward. 'Look who I brought.'
'Tony!' she cried, throwing herself into his arms. Tony dropped his bag, reaching towards her with trembling hands. Her hair hung loose about her shoulders, filled with the familiar scent of her shampoo, and he removed an arm from the tight hug and gently pushed a few strands back behind her ear. Tears filled her eyes, and he wiped them away with his thumb, shaking his head at her.
'Its ok honey, you don't need to cry. I'm back,' he whispered, blinking his own tears away. His father squeezed his shoulder and left them alone. 'Sweetheart, it's gonna be okay,' Tony muttered, pulling her close for a kiss.
Michelle broke away after several minutes, taking him by the hand, leading him inside. Tony dropped his bag in the doorway and sank down onto the stairs, feeling her sit beside him, burying his head in her hair. Somehow he had survived the previous year, and he resolved never to let her out of his sight again.
THE END