Chapter Two-Hundred and Seventy-Eight

John stumbled as he was roughly pushed into a cell, watching as the barred door slammed on him. He glared at Leon, knowing better than to mouth off in here with cameras and microphones hidden all over the place. "Can you at least tell me what substance I was supposedly in possession of?" He asked, calmly stepping up to the door and gently gripping the bars in his long, thin fingers. "Because I know it would have to be a hell of a lot worse than pot for you to get a warrant."

Leon sneered, slamming his knight stick against the bars only inches from John's hands. "I don't have to tell you anything." He leaned closer to John's cell, taking in the yellow rays in the boy's eyes. "Needle Man." He spat a wad of tobacco chew at the kid, smiling when he wiped the black junk off of his face with disgust. "Figure it out. You'll be in here for a while."

Mary looked between the redheads before her, joining into the conversation about John's possible relapse. "He wouldn't chose this drug. And if he was using it, we would have noticed."

Ryan nodded, remembering how John's behavior had been incredibly aggressive and hostile when he'd been going through the high and all throughout the detox. "He wouldn't be John either, he'd be the old John, the one we learned to fear." He looked at the meth on the table, pressing his lips into a thin line. "And, he wouldn't be careless enough to leave it in a place where anyone could get ahold of it." He hated to admit it, but when John didn't want you do find something, you didn't find it. He was a master at hiding not only small objects, but items that were larger than himself at times. "He's smart. Even when he is high, he knows how to hide shit and keep it where it won't be found. If he'd gotten wind that anyone might have an idea of where something is, he moves it. He's like a squirrel that way."

Thomas thought for a moment, fully aware that John wouldn't risk it again. Not after the seizures and his visit to the rehab center. John couldn't stay away from Claire that long without going a little insane. "Someone planted it on him then."

Clarissa looked over the group, knowing that he was only alone for short times and usually liked to have someone near that he trusted. "But… who?"

John rested his head back against the cold bars of his cell, tossing a bouncy ball into the wall as an attempt to have some form of entertainment. It'd taken him hours to get the guard riled up enough to give the ball to him, and by now his voice was so raw that he could hardly speak. He blew a breath out of his nose, choosing to ignore the sleaze ball in the cell next to him as he continued to harass him.

"Hey, Caramel boy!" The sleaze ball barked trying to get John's attention. "What are you, like some sort of redskin? Arapaho? Cheyenne?" He leaned on the bars between them, smirking at the way John's muscles tightened slightly. "Cherokee?"

"Fuck off." John growled, knowing full well that the Cherokee showed in his high cheekbones and his slender build.

"That's it, isn't it? You a little tee pee dweller, aren't you?" He tilted his head, taking in every bit of John's heritage he could see. "Greek too, huh?" He smirked, leaning closer to his target. "You know what they say about Greeks, don't you? That they'll fuck anything that walks."

"Shut up!" John shouted, turning his pitch-black eyes on the man. "Just leave me alone."

"Maybe you've got some Viking in you too…"

"Go to hell." John stepped over to his cot, unsure of what time it was exactly since he was stuck in a windowless prison.