It's Tuesday night. Wednesday is visitor's day; it'll be the first time he's seen Mac for nearly two weeks. Under the circumstances, Jack reckons, it'd be odder if he wasn't dreaming about the guy- and it's going pretty well. Still in his prison cell, but with Mac nestled safely up against him. Shivering a little, in the blousy air; Jack lets him steal most of the blankets, holds him with sleepy tenderness.

"-no sign of any intrusion here. Are you sure?"

The guard's harsh voice wakes him out of the dream instantly. Only- Mac doesn't disappear.

He's still in his jail cell, and there's a stupidly tall barista underneath him, trying really hard to look like a lump of blankets.

Not bursting out laughing at this point is about the hardest thing Jack's ever had to do; and that Mac's clearly terrified by his suppressed giggles only makes it funnier.

"Nah. Coulda been a rat. Probably was."

"Dalton's stolen another blanket for himself? How many is that now?"

"Four? I don't know how he does it. It's no good taking them away from him, he's like a magnet for creature comforts."

They move on. Mac clamps a hand over his mouth, and doesn't take it off for a solid twenty minutes.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Jack whispers, as soon as he can.

Mac shakes his head slightly. Produces a pocket notebook and a pen.

Had to know you were ok. Not like Mike.

I'm ok. U crazy?

yes

Well, that was blunt enough. U gonna spring me?

No.

Fuck?

All he gets is a quizzical look. Jack takes a second look at the paper and has to admit that the question mark is more exclamation mark-ish. He rolls his eyes and goes for a kiss, instead.

Mac catches on pretty fast.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You stole my best SAK, before you left," Mac says the next day. "I'm kinda annoyed about that."

Jack smirks; he'd lifted it rather more recently than that. "You'll get it back. In two years, or a year and a half if I'm on my best behaviour."

"Then do that. It's dull having to watch movies all by my lonesome."

He's still glaring, which is understandable. The Super Tinker is a very sweet model, worth a fortune in the prison economy. He's thinking about renting it out by the day.

"Hey, at least you get your pick. And a decent television. Our model's black and white, and half the time it's busted."

"Maybe I could get them to let me fix that. I'll ask."

This isn't really a line of thinking that Jack wants to encourage. Last night had been a sweet, unexpected surprise; but if Mac keeps hanging around the prison he's going to get himself locked up next, and that's just going to throw off everything.

"It's not that bad…"

"No, no. I'll talk them into letting me do it. You watch."

Oh, geez. This is not good.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Mac does it, too. And the chocolate hidden in the back of the tube melts a bit, but is pronounced edible enough by its sugar-happy consumers. Bribing all and sundry lets him avoid the usual prison squabbling, which is more than worth the price.

Which gives Jack an idea...

smuggling = mucho dinero!

'm not a pack mule. No.

c'mon, whole prison knows by now. Gotta keep them happy

This is wrong.

so is you breaking into a prison every Tuesday! if you're gonna do it, make yourself useful

Maybe I'll stop doing it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Ellen's moved back in," Mac says the next day. "We're giving it a try, anyway. I might be busy for a few weeks."

He is, and while he keeps sending care packages, Jack finds himself not a little miserable. Any halfway sane Missionary- well, any halfway sane local would never had let matters get to this point. But now he's out of sight and out of mind, why wouldn't Mac just drift contentedly onwards? Let himself sink deep into Mission City's silence, lost once and for all.

For years now, he's been Mac's lifeline out of that. Loudly and colourfully insisting on an Elsewhere. A bigger and better world than this one little town. Fighting a constant battle to keep his friend's soul stirred up, discontented to be just another anonymous shopkeeper.

(He can leave here, when his jail sentence is done; but what good will that do if Mac doesn't even recognise the prison that's trapped him?)

Jack's never been subject to nightmares before, but he starts having a recurrent one now. Watching Mac lying in a hammock, eyes closed and mouth open and very peaceful, so peaceful he doesn't notice the quiet snow falling. Down and around and covering him from sight, until he's buried deep-

The third night it happens is a Tuesday, and his cellmate crawls into the bunk with him until he stops whimpering. Jack doesn't protest afterwards, though all his chocolate's gone missing the next day.

Mac's there at visitor's hours, next day. "Didn't work out. We couldn't agree what to watch last night, and one thing just led to another...so she's gone. We're not trying that again."

"Ah."

"You don't have to look that pleased about it."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

His nightmares stop. The prison smuggling becomes a very tidy business, to Mac's confusion and Jack's delight. Not as profitable as it could be- he draws a line at drugs, or weapons. Or anything that he thinks could be turned into a weapon, which is an awfully exhaustive list. But it draws a nice sum, one way and another. (The guards have yet to catch on. Mac's very good at what he does.)

Until the night the whole thing just falls apart.