It was strange to wake up in a cell. Ben was expecting this to happen for quite some time now. After all, they had been on the run for almost a month. They.

There was no more them. His brother was dead.

Ben should know, he saw his blood and brain splatter all over the windshield. The mere thought made him want to gag, but he didn't. There was nothing left to bring up anyway. And whatever he was given by the man introducing himself as Dr. Blake, managed to slow down his reactions. It was as if his emotions were covered under a wet blanket.

Ben didn't mind in the least.

He was sure that if his mind was allowed to clear up properly, he would turn crazy from the reality of his situation.

His brother was dead and he was in some small rotten cell in a town far from home. Why?

Ben threw an arm over his eyes to block out to rays of sun coming from the tiny barred window. He had no intention of getting up. There was no reason at all. His life was already over.

The life Kenneth had saved so many years ago.

Ben wondered if it was even worth it. Back then. Maybe if Kenneth had left him in the house with his dying mother and drunkard stepfather Ben would've had a better chance at life. Maybe if Kenneth hadn't broken his stepfather's jaw after the man raised his hands one too many times against Ben... maybe if he hadn't taken him back home and hid him in his own room until old Richard found him one day and sent him packing back.

As it was Ben and Kenneth shared a father, some blood and a hatred for the fact they had been separated and brought up in two very different families. Well, it was probably just Ben who hated that.

He had to return home, had to bear a few more beatings until Kenneth threatened his stepfather with a knife and sent him packing. Ben felt at the same time grateful and ashamed. He was fifteen, only two years younger than Kenneth. He should've had the guts to protect his family.

But he was never the fighter. When threatened, he covered and Kenneth always played the protective older brother. For a long time Ben was thankful for that.

For a long time... until he couldn't be thankful any more. He knew the fight rings were a stupid idea. He knew that the drugs were even worse. Kidnapping... hell, he hated when Kenneth dragged Caleb home, with the explanation it was his old bud's kid and he will take care of him.

Ben imagined that taking care of someone didn't involve feeding their drug habit or letting them get the snot kicked out of them. But once again, he didn't dare to do more than protest. Because as Kenneth reminded him, time and time again... if not for him, Ben would have been dead a long time ago.

For some time, the operation ran smoothly. For some time, Ben deluded himself into thinking that it was alright. They weren't doing anything wrong. After all... Kenneth was a cop. Who should know better what was right or wrong than a man paid to do the right thing?

Of course, Ben knew these thoughts were just lies he used to convince himself he wasn't an accessory in crime. Deluded thoughts from a deluded man.

It all came to a swift end on that faithful night. Ben still didn't know how he and Kenneth managed to escape from the bust, but they did and ever since, they were on the run.

Luckily, Kenneth had a stash of money hidden in several different places. If nothing else, the man knew how cops thought, what they did and so eluding capture wasn't so hard.

They managed fine, albeit Kenneth's nerves were stretched thin, threatening to snap at any moment. He was going crazier by each day and Ben begged him to just leave the country. They could hop on a boat and leave... go to Indonesia or the Philippines, start new lives. It couldn't be that hard.

It would have been better than sleeping in dingy motels or in the car, spending days drunk and nights travelling. Checking the newspapers, risking an occasional call to their father or a friend of a friend to get news about what was happening home.

It was after one of those calls that the situation changed. Ben couldn't do a thing to stop his brother after that. Suddenly, they were heading south instead of north. He didn't get answers to his increasing questions until they sat in the car, in a town called Ballarat, waiting for something to happen. Waiting for someone to appear.

Then everything went to hell in a hand basket.

Now Ben was lying on the uncomfortable cot, still half drugged out of his mind, mourning his brother.

Until the door of the cell rattled open and he was unceremoniously dragged out into another unfamiliar room.

Ben allowed the copper to push him into the seat, handcuffed hands lying on top of the desk lifelessly.

There was another cop, one of those that arrived at the scene shortly after he puked his guts out. It was the boss, Ben knew. He couldn't care less.

The man was talking to him. First in a calm and composed manner, almost friendly. Ben didn't listen. Words didn't really have meaning to him. The other cop was there too, the one who had shot his brother. He knew, because he caught sight of the bastard leaning out of the window with a gun seconds before the crack and the splatter...

Ben swallowed down the feeling of nausea. He couldn't think about it. Didn't want to.

The man, Hobart was his name, slammed his hands on the desk, rattling it.

Ben raised his eyes.

They kept asking questions, kept pushing. Hobart was the one to look out for. He was the violent one, Ben knew. Could see it in his eyes. The man was just itching to stay alone in the room with him.

Ben thought that should have scared him. He thought he should have been feeling something. Fear. Hate. Rage...

He was numb.

The boss frowned, looking straight into his eyes. Ben wasn't sure what he saw, but he let out a frustrated sigh, then nodded at Hobart.

"Bring in Davis," the man said and for the first time Hobart hesitated.

"Boss?"

The man just glared and Hobart left the room. The boss leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, eyes not leaving Ben.

They sat there in silence. Ben thought maybe it was a scare tactic, though for what purpose he had no idea. After all, they had him caught. His brother dead. There was hardly anything else they could need from him.

All the questions the man had been shooting his way this last half an hour just a hazy memory in the background. Ben didn't catch even one of them.

When the silence was becoming stifling and Ben wished he could just close his eyes and go back to sleep, the door opened and in walked a familiar face.

Oh. So that was Davis.

Funny, despite all this, Ben still hadn't known Charlie's full name. Kenneth didn't think it important to share. For him, it was Chuckles or 'The Bastard' and 'Rat'. Ben wondered if even Charlie was the man's real name, though he supposed so.

At first they just stared at each other.

Ben regarded the man in front of him through unblinking eyes.

He looked tired. There was a cast on his hand and a fresh bruise on his head. But there was no other obvious lasting damage, not from the time he spent with them. Somehow, that sent a spark of anger through Ben.

The clean shave, the sparkling uniform... it was such a difference from the bum Kenneth dragged to his house almost two months ago. For some reason, Ben felt cheated.

"Well, ain't you looking dandy," he uttered with ire, startling even himself.

Charlie blinked, then settled in the seat opposite him.

"Yeah. It's a wonder what not having to fight for my life does for my visage," he replied and Ben looked away. He didn't want to speak to this man. Hell, he didn't want to look at him.

It was scary how the mere presence of Charlie brought up emotions Ben didn't know he had. Didn't know how to handle.

He felt guilty... for being part of what had been happening back home. He felt angry... because the man in front of him shot his brother and in the end was the cause of his death. Most of all, he felt lost and alone. His only protector was gone.

This wasn't his world. He was left alone in the mess of someone else's doing, without a clue of how to proceed.

The fear was becoming overwhelming and so Ben turned to what worked best. Numbness.

He tried to ignore Charlie's questions. He set his sight on the wall behind the two men, his ears prickling at the voices addressing him. Still, he did his best not to pay attention.

Until Charlie moved, settling on the desk, too close for Ben's liking.

"Are you listening Ben?" Charlie asked, his voice piercing through Ben's haze. Deep blue eyes gazed into his forcefully. "If you won't cooperate... you'll be treated as a killer."

Ben startled.

"What?"

Charlie nodded.

"You heard me."

"I'm not a killer!" Ben protested, suddenly the reality of his situation sinking in.

"You were there when Kenneth wanted to shoot me! You did nothing!" Charlie snapped angrily.

"I couldn't stop him," Ben protested, flustered.

Charlie's brows furrowed. He obviously didn't understand.

"Why? Why the hell not?" he asked and Ben gritted his teeth.

"Because I owe him!" he retorted, losing patience. Hadn't he told this to Charlie before? Didn't he explain?

Charlie snorted.

"Yeah, you said that before. What... did he save you from a bully? Was he a good big brother? Is that enough to cover for a murderer?"

Ben winced. The words hit too close to home. How was he supposed to explain that yes, Kenneth indeed saved him from a bully that was his stepfather? And yes, he was a good brother. Despite being a jerk, he made sure Ben had a place to sleep and food to eat once his mother passed away. Despite being a bastard, he was a brother that Ben feared and admired at the same time. But there was no point in explaining that. None of those things would save him from the judge. There was one thing though that Charlie got wrong.

"My brother wasn't a killer."

There was a snort and Ben startled, realizing it came from the older cop. He almost forgot his presence.

"The gun pointed in my face might've confused me," Charlie said with fire in his eyes.

"That's different! He... he didn't kill anyone, before-" Ben shook his head, jaw clenched tight. "My brother wasn't a killer."

There was something like sympathy in Charlie's eyes, but that vanished shortly.

"People went missing, Ben. Bodies were found."

Ben shook his head.

"That wasn't Ken," he said, adamant. No. His brother was a bastard with a short fuse, but surely... all those men...

It was as if Charlie was reading his mind.

"How many, huh?"

Ben blinked, looking up at him wide eyed.

"How many men stayed at your house since the fights begun?"

"I don't... I didn't-" count, Ben wanted to add, but that would be a lie. He remembered each and every one of them. Some were young, some were middle aged. All were lost.

"What happened to them after the third fight? If they even got that far."

Ben shook his head.

"We sent them away. Kenneth... he... he and Richard drove them out of town. Gave them money."

"Even you don't believe that," Charlie snorted.

Ben wanted to.

Charlie's eyes turned cold.

"Third fight was for life. You realize what that means, right? Either the guy died, or he had to kill someone. And you think that doesn't make your brother a killer?"

Ben looked away. The accusations stung. Of course he knew. Of course he thought about it, every damn time he had to walk down those steps and face another stranger in his basement. He felt guilt. He also felt anger. Because it wasn't his brother who had to face these accusations, but him.

Before he could react, Charlie spoke again.

"Tell me one thing, Ben. How did you know I would be alone yesterday? Were you following me for several days?"

Ben shook his head, stunned by the question.

"No. We... we just arrived."

Charlie's eyes narrowed.

"Then how? It was the first time I was alone in weeks!" Charlie pressed, confusion and annoyance started to seep through his tone.

Ben looked up at him, figuring out where he was going with the question. Feeling coldness wrap around his spine like the fingers of his dead brother.

"We didn't know," Ben said, almost a whisper.

Charlie frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Ben gritted his teeth.

"It didn't matter," Ben said finally. "It wouldn't have mattered even if you had a car full of cops! Not to Kenneth."

Charlie's shoulders sagged, a look of realization and horror colouring his eyes.

"You were ready to kill anyone else getting in the way," Charlie spoke almost in a whisper. "And yet you dare to say your brother wasn't a killer?"

Ben had enough.

He could handle a lot of things. From fear to pain and disappointment. But the judgmental look, the tone of the voice stating what he didn't dare to accept himself, was just too much.

"Shut up," he hissed. "Shut the fuck up!" he repeated, this time much louder. His hands curled into fists and his whole body tensed in reaction to the stress.

Charlie didn't back away though. The cop behind him moved, clearing his throat threateningly. But Charlie didn't.

"I know he was your brother. But... not even you can think he was innocent."

"You don't understand. He's my brother... and you killed him," Ben said, the last part coming out in a defeated choke.

Charlie shook his head.

"I didn't. He could've well left me alone. You both could've left, instead of seeking revenge."

"It wasn't like that," Ben kept protesting. "Kenneth wasn't-"

The desk rattled again, this time startling both Ben and Charlie. There he was, the Boss, with hands slammed against wood, leaning threateningly close to Ben, eyes burning with passion.

"Enough!" he roared and Charlie narrowed on the desk, as if ready to step in if things went south. That move itself made Ben wary.

"I'm not interested in a sob story about your older brother. We have you on an attempted murder of a police officer. That is enough to get you life, if not the noose. Now, you have a choice. You can tell us everything you know about your brother's operation and his contacts, along with how the hell you found sergeant Davis. And you better start talking before I decide to just toss you in the rig and throw away the key."

Ben swallowed, cold sweat running down his back.

The noose. Was there really a chance he would get the death penalty? No, it couldn't be. He wasn't a lawyer, but he was pretty sure his country haven't had a hanging in almost two decades.

"There's no death penalty in New South Wales," he said shakily, then let out a breath when he saw the boss nod.

"That's true. On the other hand, you and your brother tried to kill a police officer here in Victoria. And I'm pretty sure death penalty wasn't abolished here."

Ben felt his blood run cold.

"I... I didn't do anything," he stuttered but a glare from the man shut him up.

"You did plenty. But you can leave the pleading and excuses for the judge and jury. What I am interested in now are the facts. So start talking."

Or else... the silent threat hung in the air, so thick it could've been cut with a knife. Out of desperation, Ben threw a helpless look towards Charlie. The man gave a small, barely noticeable nod.

"What... what do you want to know?"

The next half an hour was spent with Lawson or Charlie giving him questions and jotting down his answers in their notepads. Anything from when was the first time Kenneth brought a fighter to his house to the names of people he knew had been involved in the scheme and the betting.

Ben told them what he knew. Oftentimes, all he could do was shrug and say that he didn't know. After all, he wasn't really part of the business, only the occasional driver and delegated prison guard. His knowledge reached only so far and he doubted it was of any help to someone from a different town. Finally, it seemed that the questions might reach the end. At least Ben felt they had covered about all there was to cover. Only thing missing was the reason he was in Ballarat right now.

Of course the cops didn't forget about that.

"I don't get it. By your own words... you could have just left the country for some time. Why didn't you?" Charlie asked sounding genuinely confused.

Ben could hardly blame him. He wasn't that much clearer on the answer.

"I'm not sure," he admitted wearily. He saw the frown returning to Lawson's face and quickly shook his head. "I'm not lying!" he protested before either men could speak."I wanted to leave, I swear to God I did. Kenneth... he was waiting. I'm not sure what for. Maybe he was just hoping that our father will somehow manage to make this all go away... I don't know," Ben said, letting the frustration he felt about it seep into his voice.

"I almost managed to convince him, but then... then there was the phone call."

Lawson's eyes narrowed and Ben knew that was what he was really after this whole interview.

"What phone call?" it was Charlie who asked.

Ben bit his lips nervously.

This might've been his out of jail free card. If he didn't mess this up...

It was obvious from Lawson's glare that he knew where his thoughts were heading. Ben swallowed.

"I... I need some... guarantees."

"Guarantees?" Charlie looked momentarily confused, that was until Lawson snorted. Then his eyes cleared up in understanding.

"What do you mean?"

Ben hesitated but knew there was nothing else to do. He could stop talking and face a possible death sentence... or he could give them a piece of information in exchange for help.

"I... I don't want to end up on the death row," he said outright, deciding that honesty might be his best chance right now.

Lawson rolled his eyes.

"That's hardly up to us."

Ben frowned.

"If you can't promise me a lighter charge... there's no reason for me to cooperate."

He knew it was a gamble. He knew it from the dangerous glint in Lawson's eyes, or from the way Charlie moved just an inch closer to stop whatever altercation there might appear.

"This is not a bloody farmer's market, Ben!" Lawson barked. "We don't negotiate."

Ben gulped, then shrugged.

"You want to know who sent us?"

Charlie gave a nod. Lawson didn't move a muscle.

"I will tell you. Only you... only now. I'm not gonna repeat this in front of a judge or other cops."

It was obvious both cops were interested in the offer.

"I ask only one thing in return."

"What's that?" Charlie asked.

"The charges... I... I didn't kill anyone. I never tried to kill you, Charlie. I swear... please. Don't let them send me to death row for that."

Charlie looked at him for a long moment, then turned towards Lawson. They exchanged a look and Ben saw the barely noticeable nod. He didn't know if he should feel relief or not about that.

"Alright," Charlie sighed, turning back to Ben. "Talk."