Author's Note: This chapter contains non-con. I don't intend to make light of the issue, but this is told from the POV of a very troubled person. Subjects might not always be treated sensitively. If you are likely to be offended by such content, you may want to skip this one.

IV September

To Lawrence Alston: We regret to inform you that your mother, Sylvia Alston, passed away in the early hours of Wednesday morning. She went peacefully, in her sleep. Sylvia was well-liked by all of us here at Shady Elms Retirement Home and will be missed. We understand that you may not be available to make the funeral arrangements and will be honored to do so in your stead. Please let us know of any preferences you may have, including any convenient dates. Our thoughts and prayers will be with you in this difficult time.

Law reread the letter more slowly, eyes lingering on the words "went peacefully in her sleep". He didn't want to forget that bit, and good things had a way of fading out. Then he rapidly tore the thick paper into the smallest bits he could manage before dropping them into the trash can. Damned if he was gonna let Roach get ahold of that news.

So that was it, then. The one person who gave a damn about him was gone. And he hadn't even seen her or spoken to her in years. She probably didn't even remember you at the end. He ran his fingers absently over the tattooed R on the back of his wrist. Mom dying wasn't so bad. Neither was this place, not really. As his mother used to say, everythin' was roses.

*****

Night time again. Law straddled Roach and thought about how much better thing were with the right perspective. He couldn't believe he'd let a guy like Roach get to him! He smiled emptily and let up just long enough to get a firmer grip on the pillow before leaning most of his weight down again. Roach's hands came up and pawed at him clumsily before falling back again. Roach made a sort of muffled moaning sound. "Do you like this?" Law asked softly. No answer. He thought Roach's struggles were already getting weaker. He held the pillow in place for a while longer and then carefully shifted around until one of his knees rested on the other man's abdomen. Slowly, Law let go of the pillow and settled back to gaze down at his tormentor. There. Done. What he did next came without any conscious decision at all. Brushing the pillow to the cell floor, he leaned down and kissed the dead man deeply. Then he climbed onto his own bunk and went to sleep.

V October

For one of the few times in his life, Law had gotten lucky. The public defender was young and smart and ambitious. He had already found out about Law's mother, and he came in smiling broadly and announced that if Law did exactly as he said he could almost guarantee he wouldn't go down for murder. There was even a slight chance of a justifiable homicide verdict. Law had no history of violent behavior since his incarceration, and juries were sympathetic when it came to dying mothers.

"Did he attack you? Threaten you in any way?"

Law was prepared for this question. "We was fightin'. He pulled a knife on me."

"Excellent!" The lawyer was busily taking notes. "Now your record indicates you haven't been in any serious fights during your time here. Had he provoked you or harassed you in the past?"

"No! Nothin' like that."

"Are you sure? Anything at all would help. Maybe we can do better than just getting you off on self-defense."

"What do you mean?"

"You've got a parole hearing in about seven months. I'd like to make sure there's no black mark on your record over this unfortunate incident. No promises, but it could save you an extra year in this place."

Law hesitated. "Who ya gotta tell?"

"Only the judge and the parole board members. And they can't tell anyone at all."

So Law told him almost everything, leaving out only the kiss. The lawyer listened without comment until the very end. Then he stood and offered his hand, surprising Law into taking it.

"Well, I think I've got enough. Try to look sorry at the trial, and if you're asked, say you're sorry. Other than that, just relax. This is going to be a piece of cake."

VI November

Cleaning dishes sucked. The water scolded his hands, the food smelled even worse in the kitchen than it did in the cafeteria, and his ears were ringing from the constant crashes of stacks of trays and buckets of silverware. And on top of everything else, some jerk-off was whistling! Could ya believe it? He paused, for the moment not bothered by the burning water running over his hands. "Shut your fuckin' trap!"

The whistling stopped and the guy muttered resentfully, "Jeez, who pissed in your cornflakes?" But he said it quietly and gave Law a wary look before turning back to his work. Law was getting a reputation for being dangerously short-tempered. Somewhere between his mother's death and his own acquittal, he had developed the habit of responding to smart comments with a few well-placed punches. And that wasn't all.

A new guy had been put in Law's cell two days after he had killed Roach, and Law had instantly understood what he would have to do. It sucked, and he even felt a little sorry for the new guy. But in here you were either a boss or a bitch.

The kid's name was Harry, and he was about five years older than law, maybe a little less. Not really a kid, but a first-timer, and pathetically easy to dominate. The sex was crappy, but if he tuned out the kid's crying and imagined some actress or stripper he did alright. He preferred straight-up violence, though. Harry already knew better than to whine to the guards.

VII December

Surrounded by gaudy decorations and the constant, maddening sound of soft instrumental carols, his mood ricocheted between cynical amusement and venomous hatred. Fortunately, he had a convenient target when he was in the latter frame of mind. He knew full-well Harry was thinking about suicide. It simply didn't concern him. After all, he'd dealt with the same situation for over a year and nobody had done shit to help him.

It was the 17th of December, which only meant there were still eight days to go before things would improve to their normal level of hell. It was also a few minutes to visiting hours, and Law was amusing himself listening to Harry beg for his permission to go see his parents and sisters.

"Please, boss. Please let me go. My mother brought cookies! I'll give them to you! I mean, of course they already belong to you, but if I could just go get them-"

At which point they were interrupted by a guard banging his club on the bars. Law jumped and nearly fell off the bunk he was perched on. Furious, he snapped around toward the bars and snarled, "What the hell do you want?"

"Easy there, cupcake", the guard sneered. "You got a visitor."

"Who?"

"Why don't you just come and see? Unless you got something better going on in there. In the middle of something, were you?"

Having had months of practice, Law expertly concealed the flash of rage and shame that comment dredged up. "Why, you like ta watch?"

"Get your ugly ass out here if you're coming. You, too, Miller", he added to Harry. Harry looked at Law pleadingly, and Law nodded slightly. The little twerp actually beamed as he scurried over to the bars and stuck his wrists out.

"Well?" the guard prodded impatiently.

"Awright." Curious in spite of himself, Law stalked over to the bars and stared malevolently at Harry, who went pale but couldn't really move out of the way until the guard finished with the bracelets.

The three walked down the hall side by side, Law and Harry with their hands cuffed behind them and the guard gripping each man by the arm.

*******

It was just some old, tired-looking lawyer. His neat suit looked absurdly out of place in the dingy little visiting room. Apparently they were just getting around to carrying out his mother's will.

"She named you her administrator, but you weren't available. Obviously." He tried a small smile that withered and died under Law's look. "Anyway," he continued, slightly flustered, "the lady named you her sole heir. It comes to just under $16,000 after all the bills are paid. It's been placed in a saving account under your name."

Law waited. "That's it? What, have they outlawed phones?"

"Law requires that I notify you in person." This said rather stiffly.

"Hey, guard! We're done over here", Law called, and ignored the hand the lawyer extended. The suit left, and Law looked around at the other visitors as he waited to be returned to his cage. These people were from the outside, and their bright clothes and happy, hopeful expressions were a novelty. His eyes settled on a trio of men two tables away. One inmate and two outsiders. A guy in his early twenties was talking animatedly to the inmate, both of them grinning and laughing. The third was affecting a comic expression of anger, but he kept losing it and cracking up like his friends. Law watched them hungrily until he was taken away.

When Harry returned sometime later, Law contented himself with snatching the cookies and retreating to his bunk to stare moodily at the ceiling. He wanted to hit someone, and Harry was right below him. But he was afraid if he started he wouldn't be able to stop.