The wall was pristine, smooth to his callused fingertips. His eyes bored into the material, seeked to figure out it's mysteries. His mind tossed a knife in between metaphorical hands, thinking carefully and slowly like the seeping pain of his still injured wrist. After a couple weeks it had mended, and in the right places, but his lack of proper nutrients left the bones brittle and unreliable. Any wrong move would result in awful pain that moved through his body and made his mind blurry. The redhead sighed and closed his eyes, combing a hand through his hair. He wouldn't last much longer in the cell. Wouldn't last much longer with so little food. Tired of wearing grungy old clothes that still reeked of other criminals.

There was a chance he got, once a week, every week. On what he believed to be Saturday the guard rotations were different. There would be time to bust out and scramble away...to somewhere. Wally made some noise that might be recognized as a growl and felt like punching the wall, if he didn't know any better. His only option was to get to know his guard. Swing him into his cause. Do whatever it took. But how, and when? Verbally? That was the only option unless he wanted to waste his food on messages written with crumbs. After what seemed to be hours of thought the ginger stood up and walked to the door, slipping his nose through the bars. Conner's eyes were looking at him, slightly surprised, but not afraid. Wally smiled softly and the guard seemed to relax a bit. The redhead whispered:

"What I'm going to ask of you is going to be..ridiculous for you. But you've heard the truth. You know why I'm fighting. You see the truth yourself. But we can't achieve our goals if I'm locked up here and you're stuck as a guard. So, on Saturday, when the guard rotation is off, you're going to use a key card you grabbed from an interrogator, let me out quietly, and we'll escape together. Sound good?"

If Conner looked surprised before, then he was completely baffled now. And immensely nervous. He was stiff as a board, and obviously uncomfortable. Retracting from the bars, Wally added "think it over and tell me what you think by dinner." The taller man barely heard the words with his mind so occupied with the thoughts of releasing a civil war leader and committing treason.

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When the whispered request ended and Conner finally absorbed it all, his mind went blank. His mouth went dry. it was just...insane. They didn't have any backup car or any way to get away, and Conner's brain chip could be tracked, right? It seemed like a suicide mission. There was no way it could work...but then why would Wally want to do it? He was kind of a genius, in a sense. He wouldn't want to follow through a plan if he thought it'd kill him? Or was it all a trick? Maybe he had planned something with his cohorts, that if one of them were ever caught after a certain time they'd be rescued within a certain span of time? And why would he want to abandon all he had for Wally, a mass murderer? His job wasn't great, but it filled his needs and wants with the money he earned. But something seemed to draw him to the redhead, like an invisible cord between them that Conner hadn't realized was there till he first saw couldn't figure out whether to play it safe or to listen to his emotions.

Conner spent the whole day thinking it over, nearly forgetting he had to give the ginger a response. The taller man looked at his wrist watch, the one that once was his father's. The watch was a sleek silver design that doubled as a news radio, music player, cell phone, camera, and much more. Sometimes Conner wish it could reverse time as well as read it. He'd rewind to college, when he first met Megan and started learning about the criminal justice careers he could pursue. He'd rewind to the day he first got this job and now would likely turn it down if things were different. He'd rewind to the day he first saw Wallace West face to face, and focus more on how he had felt then. He'd rewind back to ask him father about what he should do, even though Conner already knew what he would say.

"No matter what choice you make, I'll always love you. Even if you make the choice I don't like."

Although Conner imagined his father would react a bit differently when instead of asking about dating some girl Conner's asking about whether or not he should aid a criminal's escape. But he didn't want to really focus on the past when he knew it was out of react now, just remaining with him as scraps of memories and would-be futures.

The taller man looked from the wristwatch to a wall clock, a large plain one that was out of view from any of the cells. He got lost in the movements of the hands. The noise rung in his head like a gong, tick tock tick tock tick tock.

He swallowed, and it felt like trying to shove a tennis ball into his stomach.

By the time Conner had made up his mind he was bringing Wally's food back to the cell.

The tray slid through the metal of the door. Conner could feel those sharp green eyes looking at him, expecting that response, that answer. He didn't look at them but kept his own eyes pointed at the floor. The taller man felt the words escape his lips with some frigid meaning that riddled him with uncertainty.

"I'll do it."

Conner expected to see a jackal's smile on the ginger's face, proof that he had made a grave mistake. But the only smile was a hopeful and kind one. The guard finally looked at those emerald eyes. They looked tired with weakness and strain, but they also had a hint of gratefulness.