He watched Garrison's face harden and he knew he was thinkin' different now. That's why he never told no one since that first time, not in all these years. He didn't want people to change. He didn't want to see that look come into their eyes, the look that was in the Warden's eyes now. That look told him they didn't want him around 'em, ….didn't think he was good enough, that he couldn't be trusted to act right.

It was all he could do to sit still. His hands ached to get hold of the man and tear him apart. Anyone that could do that didn't deserve calm rational justice meted out by the courts or sympathetic treatment by society… they deserved what his primal urges were demanding, death at the hands of the victim's family. A long, slow, painful death. Garrison could see it, it didn't take any planning.., how he'd do it just invaded his mind and took over. He could feel himself doing it, feel the bones breaking… He turned away from the pleading look on Goniff's face and took a deep breath and tried to get the logical side of his brain to take control again.

There, he'd lost him, he was turnin' away from him, just like he knew he would. But Goniff had decided to tell it.., for the kid's sake.., and once he got started he couldn't seem to stop. All of it came out, right down to hiding out in that abandoned cottage, and how he'd nearly drowned himself in the icy water of the brook that ran behind it, washing himself over and over and over again…

"And you're sure he's telling the truth?" Garrison asked quietly.

The answer was just as quiet. "He's tellin' the truth Warden."

They sat there in silence several minutes. The story was over but it was taking a long time for what he'd just heard to sink in. He could feel Goniff's eyes on him, feel the man's need for him to do something, say something. "What do you want me to do Goniff?"

"Keep it to yerself. I don't want the others knowin'. I don't want them to blame me for makin'…"

"You?!" He'd nearly lost it then and had to use all his control to rein in his rage.

Goniff cringed away from him, drew back from the hand that reached out to shake him and then shove him away. He was gonna be turned out for this, he knew it.

"Damn it, Goniff!" Garrison dropped his hand when he saw the little man flinch away from him. He knew this sort of thing went on in the prisons... He'd gotten a rather shocking education in that aspect of prison life one night after they'd all shared a bottle of brandy and the men started talking. He knew all of them had to parry advances, and deal with the offers. And he knew not everyone was given a choice, some were forced. They'd all laughed it off, made a grim joke of it that night, but they'd all managed to cope, Actor with his ready wit and size, Casino and Chief with the threat of violence, and Goniff by making powerful friends on the inside who would protect him. But they were adults, able to fend for themselves … This was different and he couldn't believe that it had happened to his jester of a pick pocket, or that little kid hidden out in that dark cottage. He couldn't sit still any longer and shoved off the couch and started to pace the room.

Goniff followed the Warden with his eyes as he huddled into the corner of the sofa and waited to hear what his sentence would be. He didn't want to leave the group. He thought he'd made friends of the fellas, even his commander. That was all gone now, broken by what he'd just confessed. He'd be on the next transport back to the states, and by the look on the Warden's face he'd be lucky if he escaped a beating. When the Lieutenant dropped onto the low table in front of him Goniff struggled to sit up straight, not to shrink away from him.

He had to sit there for a while, organize his thoughts. He wanted to reach out and take Goniff by the shoulders, shake some sense into him, or pull him into a bear hug like Casino would have done, but he knew from the look on his face that physical contact wouldn't be welcome. He leaned forward, rested his arms on his knees and studied the carpet at his feet. Clasping his hands together in a fist his attention was drawn to the club he'd created and he sat and considered the ways he could make use of it... Pulling his thoughts back Garrison let his hands drop apart. "Look, Goniff, I know you don't want to, but I think you have to go…"

"I know I gotta go Warden." he cut across the Lieutenant, pleading with him. "But don't tell the other blokes why, OK? Tell 'em… tell 'em me Mum's got sick or somethin' and I had to go back for that…."

"What are you talking about?" Garrison frowned at the man in front of him for a moment before it hit him and he suddenly saw the kid he'd been staring up at him. "My God, Goniff!" Running a hand through his hair he got up and started pacing the room again. "You don't think I hold you responsible for any of what you just told me? How old were you when you were that 'other little kid'...ten?… You weren't… you aren't to blame for anything that happened. That man hurt you when you trusted him, when you couldn't do anything about it. He's the one that should be punished for it, not you!"

He'd worked his way around behind the couch and stood in back of Goniff as he sat staring stiffly forward. His instincts wanted to reach out somehow and make contact, comfort the man that sat there, but logic told him to hold back. He let instincts guide him and laid his hands on Goniff's shoulders. "And I'd be glad to do it myself," he said grimly, "but there are rules against that sort of thing." He felt the some of the tension go out of the little man and finally let go when the cockney leaned forward.

Goniff rested his elbows on his knees and covered his face with his hands and sat there for several moments before he could muster the strength to look up, by that time the Warden was sitting on the table in front of him again. He took a deep breath, he could see it better now but it was takin' a while for it to seep into him. That look on the Warden's face, that wasn't meant for him. That tightly controlled black rage was focused on that man what took him all those years ago…the man that took that little tyke just two weeks ago. He had a feeling that if he asked him, even though it went against all them rules, the Lieutenant'd use that rage, and the deadly skills he had to destroy that bloke…tear him to bits, and do it gladly too. Made him feel a little stronger somehow, seeing that look. "What am I s'pose ta do Warden?"

"Did you tell anyone? Did you report him?"

The little man sat back with a laugh that carried no humor. "I tried, didn't I." And he told the rest of it. How he'd been caught and run back to the school as a truant. How he'd tried to tell the local Bobby why he couldn't go back there, why he shouldn't leave him there and go off on his rounds… but he didn't have the right words to tell it... He didn't know how to say it so they wouldn't blame him for it. And how when they'd finally listened to him they'd laughed at him for coming up with such a wild tale to explain why he'd run away, and then gotten mad at him for trying to make trouble. And how he didn't have the backbone, didn't have the courage to stick to his story when they stood around him and insisted it was all just a kid's tall tale.

"Nobody listened. They b'lieved him see, not me… that's the way it always is. Grownups don't b'lieve kids 'bout stuff like that. They can't. They can't let themselves know what kinda stuff happens. You know what they decided would be good for me, Warden?" Goniff leaned forward and stared at his commander's face. "They figgered I needed help to stop lyin', see… and they picked the vicar to straighten me out. Him all full a Christian forgiveness, an all, fer what I done." Goniff scrubbed at his face with his hands, remembering the terror of that one enforced session he'd suffered through. The old bugger had spent the whole time detailing what people'd think of him if he told it again, what it would do to his folks and his family if everyone knew what kind of a boy he was, that he was a boy could make a man, even a churchman, do something like that. Them with a dyin' son at home and all. How it'd all been his own fault… "What a laugh, right? The bloody vicar!"

"What'd you do?"

"Are you balmy? I ran. Just like he's done. I run clean back to London. Didn't go right home though. I thought the folks'd be mad at me so I kinda hung around on the streets a while. That's how I got started pinching stuff regular, but I got caught, see. They hauled me home but Bertie was just gettin' ready to die and they didn't have any time for me. When the dust settled after he was dead and my old man finally realized what I'd been brought home for, that I'd brought the law home so's they had a chance a findin' out what he had in hand, he didn't half spare his belt on me… But after that he forgot it, and me for a time. And Mum was in such a state, well she didn't have the time to worry over me either."

"So you never told them what happened?"

"Blimey, a 'course I never told 'em! Even if they'd a b'lieve'd me, what were they gonna do about it? That fella's respectable Warden, not no account like me. 'Sides who'd want their Mum and Dad to know a thing like that?" The Warden was up and pacing again, like he did when he was figurin their way out of a jam over in Europe. Then it dawned on him, he'd cut him off when he was about to tell him…. "So what am I s'posed ta do, Warden?"

Garrison worried the inside of his lower lip with his teeth as he leaned against the window frame and stared out into the darkness, out towards the gardener's cottage hidden in the trees at the far edge of the lawn that stretched away behind the house.

"What's that kid's name again?"

"Edward. Edward Charles Weston." It'd taken almost three days just to get that out of him.

"You think Edward would tell the authorities what happened?"

"Blimey! You didn't listen, did ya? Warden you can't ask him to do that! He's just a little kid and he's got no one to stand up for him, no one to back him up."

"He's got you." The Lieutenant settled a steady gaze on the man seated on the couch.

"Me? Bloody Hell! I'm a con!" Goniff looked at him in amazement. "They ain't gonna b'lieve me now any more'n they did way back then." For whatever bizarre reason of his own the Warden believed him, trusted him, had faith in him, even about this… but those other blokes? People that didn't know him, just looked at what he done and where he come from? "No. You can ask me to do it neither." He shook his head, openmouthed at the Warden's faith in things turnin' out right just because they oughta. "People like Eddie 'n me, we don't count for nothin' where them bailiffs is concerned, Warden. Don't you get it?.. They'll just b'lieve that kindly old vicar again and Eddie'll get tagged a liar just like I did. Blimey!" He threw his hand in the direction of the cottage. "They'll prob'ly shove him right back into the old bugger's waiting arms, for correction of his evil ways, just like they tried to do with me."

"And where will he run when he takes off like you did Goniff? At least you had a home to go back to, parents to take care of you…He doesn't have that." Garrison studied Goniff for a moment before moving back to stand behind him again. Maybe it was too much to ask, and he didn't honestly know what he'd do, put in the same situation. Reaching out he laid his hand on the man's shoulder and waited as he tensed and then relaxed under his touch. "Goniff it's your decision. I'll go along with anything you choose to do. And we can get Edward out of there somehow, without anyone knowing the real reason why. But I want you to think about something." He just needed to put it into words, the little man was already thinking about it. "You two, together, can put a stop to this guy. You can't really believe that he's only done this twice, or that he won't do it again…" Goniff twisted away from him and he let him go. "We could start some rumors, leave an anonymous tip with the police. That might get an investigation started. But it would take time Goniff, and it would give that man time to get himself transferred away from here where no one would know what happened."

Goniff grabbed his elbows and pulled his arms down tight across his belly. He sat there, locked inside himself for a minute before giving a shudder and pushing up onto his feet. He kept his back to the Warden, he didn't want to see his eyes, didn't want him lookin' at him. It was just too much to ask a bloke… He'd been able to hide all these years and to ask him to stand up and tell it… To pit himself against somebody so respectable? He couldn't do it. He didn't have the courage to do it.

Garrison watched him struggle and kept his mouth firmly shut. It was Goniff's decision. They could get Edward out of here and into care with someone else, Mrs. Reid could find him a place. They could even get an investigation started on the minister's background, get someone to check with people in his past postings… He could tear the man's head off and hand it to him… but that wouldn't help Goniff. He watched the little man start for the door. "Where are you going, Goniff?"

The cockney burglar stopped in the doorway, grabbed the frame hard enough Garrison could see his knuckles blanch from across the room. "I ain't gonna do it Warden… I'm gonna keep me secrets just like I done all along. And I'm gonna tell Eddie to do the same. Wouldn't no one b'lieve us even if we was to go to 'em together. You'd have ta bring a hundred like us to go up against somebody like him." He leaned his forehead against the wooden frame for a moment. "I'm sorry. I know you wanted me to do it… but I just can't, I ain't brave enough for it." Goniff shot a look over his shoulder at the man standing behind him in the room. "If that changes things, if that means I can't be part a the group no more… Well I guess I'll understand, and I'll be sorry I ever told ya." Dropping his hand he straightened his shoulders as he moved out into the hall. "Now I'm gonna go out and see if I can talk Eddie into comin' in here where it's warm. Ain't no use in him hiding out there, now you know he's here."

g

ggg

g

Things was different from when he was a brat. They didn't make Eddie come into a room and face all them judges and hear the vicar call him a poor, disadvantaged idiot who didn't know what he was sayin', didn't know the difference between tellin' the truth and lyin' through his teeth to get out from under bein' punished for somethin' he done. But they made him sit there and get stared at. Let the vicar stare at him and wonder who he was, and what he was doin' there. He was s'posed to be big enough to take it. Well, he might be big enough on the outside, but he didn't feel big enough on the inside… not near big enough.

They read off the story Eddie'd told the doctor that looked him over. That was different too, there hadn't been no doctor for him. Just the bunch a Bobby's that worked in the village and the local justice a the peace staring down on him as they stood round him in a circle. And the damn vicar… he was there a 'course, explainin' to 'em all how a boy could do that sort a thing to hisself and then get all scared at what he done and want ta blame it all on someone else.

Soon as the story was all read out proper they turned to the vicar and asked him if he had anything to say to it. He said just what he done the last time. And he took a long time to say it too. He went on and on about what a sad case Eddie was, like he was some kind a dim witted charity kid. He went on about how the little tyke couldn't help hisself, coming from a background like his. There was studies, he said, proved that was all they could expect out of a little kid with an upbringing like he'd had…and how they just had to help him understand how it was wrong to do such things, tell such stories. Then he reminded them about Eddie's parents gettin' killed, and laid it all to the shock a bein' on his own at so young an age. The men sitting on the bench were getting twisted 'round his little finger, Goniff could see it... And then he had the nerve to tell 'em all he'd dealt with boys who'd had the problem before and got 'em all straightened out.

There wasn't gonna be no point in him openin' his mouth… they'd never listen to someone like him.

His heart stopped when the magistrate called him by name and asked the question. The blood froze in his veins and all his muscles seized up so's he couldn't move. Only his head, he could turn his head and he did, enough to look at the Warden. He sat there not moving, just staring at his commander's face as the fella in charge asked again.

The Warden gave that little nod, just like he done when he was facin' that firing squad. It felt just like that time too. He made the muscles in his neck turn his head back and looked at the man sitting there waiting for him to say something without really seein' him. His mouth was dry, he could hear his own heart pounding in his ears. Grabbing the edge a the table he insisted on making his body work again. He bit down hard on the back of his tongue and got some spit working in his mouth. He pushed on the table with his hands, forced his knees to straighten and found himself standing there, center of attention.

"So, sir, do you have anything pertinent to add or not?"

His knees shook at that, almost dropped him back in his seat but he could feel the others ranged behind him, propping him up with their anger. His mouth started to dry out again. Goniff cleared his throat and took a deep shuddering breath. "Yes yer honor, I b'lieve I do."

And he told it. For only the third time in his whole life he told it, all of it.

And they sat there.., and they listened.