"First my friend, you can remove your shank."

Miguel just continued to rock, cross-legged on the floor, head in hands. He was in hell. A moment before he had been elated, but continuing the flow of his life, it had lasted mere seconds. He was only half-aware of the Russian casually rising and moving towards him. All that went through his mind was a mantra of shit fuck shit fuck in time to his rocking. He had finally come to a discussion on how to deal with his repeated attacker but this situation had not figured in his plans.

He was fucked, figuratively and no doubt soon, literally! Nikoli placed a hand on Miguel's shoulder and bent over him to search the back of his waistband. Retrieving the home made weapon, he spoke laughingly, "You really should have found a new hiding place." He checked through the glass to make sure they were not being observed before removing the sharpened, what? No, it was a hospital scalpel. Nicoli bit his cheek in thought. Maybe he had underestimated his Miguel. Was this a more dangerous game than he had bargained for?

But it wasn't a game. He wanted this man, wanted him to be his, not in some master and bitch senario but wanted him, body, soul and mind. Well, he knew he may have trouble with the last part. Miguel had a reputation, no one would ever considered him stable, totally sane, but he wanted him psychosis and all. And he wanted Miguel to consider him his. Half of what he had told to O'Riely, knowing that a version would reach this young Latino male sat at his feet, was bullshit but the intent was there. So far he had turned the tale true and intended to follow through to the end.

He squeezed Miguel's shoulder and straightening, ran a hand slowly up the rocking man's face. No reaction, just that damned rocking, mumbling words in a language the Russian could not understand. This was not good. He hid the scalpel, knowing Alvarez would have a hard time finding it and anyway, he needed a new one, he had left his latest shank in a body. He checked Miguel was not secretly watching but whatever he was staring at was not on this planet.

Turning back, he had been just in time. Murphy was staring in at Miguel, a puzzled look to his face. He turned to Nikoli, a question in his eyes. Nikoli just shrugged nonplussed. Murphy moved away shaking his head. What was one more crazy con to him but a pain in his butt, it could wait.

"Mikhail. Stop this Mikhail!"

"Miguel," quietly then, "Its Miguel, you fuckin' bastard!" he screamed, eyes filled with uncontrolled anger. "You can't even fuckin' get my fuckin' name right!" He looked about to spring from the floor. Nikoli remained still, appearing relaxed. The spark of rage and hatred fled from Miguel's eyes to be replaced by glazed fear and he scuttled back to jam himself in the corner, arms covering his head.

Nikoli relaxed for real. Inside he had been ready for the violence threatened in those angry rich brown eyes but now he grinned. He knew he was winning and at least his object of fascination and desire had finally stopped rocking but the look of fear had upset him. He could wait. He knew how.

Climbing onto the top bunk, he laid on his side with head propped on arm and settled down to watch what his Mikhail would do next.

=0=

In the last hour or so Nikoli had begun to talk, much of it meaningless, little observations about his short time in America, his shorter time here in OZ but now he was getting to the point. Telling what he wanted the man in the corner to know. It took a while for Miguel to realise, over an hour in fact, but half sentences had started breaking through into his numb mind.

All these nights trying not to think and failing, he realised he had no idea how much time had past since 'Lockdown'. He'd gone into a fugue aware of nothing but, as he began to surface, he remained still and truly began to listen to this man. This man. The one who had changed everything in his inner world, feelings, emotions and his reactions. From what he was now saying, if Miguel was hearing right, his outside world too.

"...will be a problem. Not too happy Cyril got involved but should not be too hard to appease. Can blame it on Keller." A chuckle, "Now Beecher? He will not be a happy man when he finds out what his 'friend' has been up to. What do you think?" Alvarez gave no reaction. "No?" Nikoli continued.

Nikoli had not been answered for the last hour or so but surely if he just kept talking eventually the silent man would respond. If not? He'd have to shake him out of it or something as it was getting on his nerves. He was starting to worry that he had broken the man, that his mind had finally shattered. Possible, but Nikoli prayed not, that wasn't part of the plan and not acceptable.

"Made a very good distraction don't you think? No one noticed me, what with all the noise going on."

What was he talking about? The fight just a distraction? No one saw him? What had he done? Miguel's mind sharpened. Do something nice for you. Guerra in hospital. That look he had seen in the Russian's eyes after the incident this afternoon when a group of inmates had come across him struggling to get away from Hernandez and Ricardo. He'd been so scared, so desperate to get away he had failed to register who it had been to turn the corner and halt the attempted assassination.

Now, hours later he saw it all in his memory, Beecher, Keller, O'Riely and him. The man sharing this room. Now confessing to him. It was as clear as a slow motion instant replay. The look on his face had spoken of death to those trying to kill Miguel, and so it had happened.

"I owe the Hack too," he continued. "I suppose I should not really be telling all this to you but who would you tell? McManus? Would he believe you? 'You' are the one they have been trying to kill. What would little old Nikoli have to do with them? No incidents ever reported, no reason for me to harm them."

Miguel moved slightly so he could peer up at the Russian sitting on the top bunk actually swinging his legs as if having fun. "Oh, my Mikhail. You have returned." Miguel stared disbelivingly. Nikoli just shrugged then hoped off the bunk causing Miguel to flinch.

A barely contained laugh and the Russian turned undoing his jeans to piss, with his back to Alvarez, he sighed contentedly.

Miguel couldn't believe the man was so calm, that he had turned his back unconcerned! A brief impulse to attack now, he made to get up finding his whole body stuff. He couldn't manage it! How long had he been hunched in this corner? He had to pull himself up by the wall, grunting at the stiffness. Nicoli looked over his shoulder then returned to doing himself up and moved to lean against the wall, arms loosely crossed. He just stood smiling.

Miguel moaned under his breath and turned away to lean against the window, staring out. His whole 'being' ached. He shoved his hands under his armpits and leaning heavily with his forehead on glass, slowly twisted his torso side to side. Silence from behind.

Pins and needles began to shoot through his limbs. He let his arms dangle, shaking hands and began to lightly jump on the spot trying to get his circulation to work. A minute and he relaxed, ignoring the man behind him. He wouldn't try any thing with Miguel on view to the Hacks still doing the rounds. The pain receding, he stretched up, his arms high then relaxed against the glass staring forwards, looking for a way out of this.

Seeing Murphy, he banged on the glass and the Senior Hack moved towards him. "Alvarez. What?"

He took the chance, "Murphy, move me out, back up there!" He indicated his own pod.

Murphy shook his head. "Needs cleaning. You want sleep in blood?" Miguel goggled at him. "Lucky for you, you weren't in there. You could well be gone too."

"Put me in another pod man!" he tried not to sound too needy.

"Alvarez. I'm not in the mood! Its here or solitary. What's up, don't like your new playmate?" He indicated Nikoli behind with his head. "He not playin' nice?" Alvarez sneered at him. "Well d'ya want a night in solitary?" Miguel could say nothing. "Thought so." And Murphy left.

Miguel just stood stretched out on the glass, hitting his forehead once, twice then was still. Fuck! He'd balked at the chance to get out of this pod. But solitary? No. No way. He'd gone cold at the thought. He would go mad, could feel himself halfway there.

"Thank you, my Mikhail"

"What for?" he sneered backwards to see Nikoli appraising him from raised hands to feet and was sure that in the man's eyes he was naked.

"I like it when you show yourself to me." He shrugged but the accompanying leer proved it a calculated gesture.

Miguel didn't understand then realisation hit. He'd stood like that two nights ago. The night before Guerra had ended up in the hospital. The bastard thought he had done it on purpose! So Guerra was in intensive care and still no one knew who had done it. Until now. So that had been the 'something nice'.

Alvarez turned around slowly as if encased in molasses, engulfed. And he was. Surrounded by this man's protection, unasked for but there. He had killed for him, had gotten rid of his enemies! Miguel stared, collapsing back against the glass, incredulous that this man had murdered to keep him safe. Why? To protect Miguel for Miguel? He wasn't that gullible. Nikoli wanted to make sure his toy wasn't taken away, spoilt!

The Russian remained by the back wall, his eyes glinting. Yes, Miguel understood. "You are correct," he purred, so Goddamn annoying, "No one harms 'My Mikhail'." a statement of fact. "No one 'touches' my Mikhail!"

Alvarez's mouth had become a desert "Exce.." he tried again, "Except you?" he hazarded. Nikoli just smiled head to one side.

Several conflicting emotions rushed through Miguel. Wonder, disbelief, gratitude. He had eliminated those that wanted him dead. Hell, had tried repeatedly! He had almost felt as if he had a charmed life like a cat the amount of attempts he had survived but mostly now he felt fear once more. Fear of the unknown, of what this man would do to him, what this man could make him feel.

"Lights out!" Oh… Shit!

Miguel remained exactly where he was. If he stayed there all night by the window in view of the Hacks, surely he would be left alone, untouched. His belly did a flip letting him know that it didn't really want to be. Shit! Fuck! Dammit! He had to keep control over his body or it would lead him where he just didn't want to go. Not again. He'd been weak but now he had decided what he must do and could not let himself down again!

Nikoli moved to the sink, cleaning teeth, washing face and hands. Then very slowly began to undress.

Alvarez stood paralysed and watched certain that the other relied on it. The man took his time, first removing his close fitting t-shirt by crossed arms pulled up and raised high above his head, stretching up as he did so. Miguel found himself studying the chest, pale, more hair than his own and bigger, more flesh. Next, slowly undoing the button and zip of his jeans, using thumbs tucked into waistband to push down both denim and briefs while kicking off shoes. Bending, he untangled his legs from the last of his clothing and standing, threw it all casually into the back corner. He turned to look at Alvarez and caught him out.

Miguel was staring at his prick hanging below the slight paunch. 'Not so long,' he found himself thinking, 'but quite thick'. He let out a tiny groan at how he knew it would stretch him wide. Coming to himself, Miguel stepped back slamming into glass looking up in horror.

Nikoli gave him a smug smile then climbed up onto his bunk lying on his back, hands behind his head. Torchlight, summoned by the noise, could see nothing except still bodies and moved on uncaring if some inmate couldn't find rest in sleep.

Miguel didn't know what to do. He was bursting for a piss but that meant moving closer to that man and he did not want to be watched. "Go to bed, Mikhail, get some sleep." Then Nikoli turned onto his side away from the cell.

Alvarez looked him daggers. 'Why,' he thought, 'you reckon I'm going to need it?' But said nothing. He really needed to piss. Damn it! He swiftly moved to the toilet nervously undoing his pants. Come on. Come-on! Relief! But he heard the man turning over. Nervously looking over his shoulder he lost his aim. Damn, all over the place. A laugh, "Don't expect me to clean it up." Miguel just sagged. Finished he looked for something to mop up with. "Beside the toilet."

Crouching down he found the cleaning rags then stopped. Rebellious he thought, 'don't fuckin' give me orders I ain't no prag!' But decided to clean up, anything that would waste time. A torched shinned in again stilling him like an animal caught in headlights then unconcerned moved on. He was shaking.

Having cleaned up, he stood thinking furiously. Nikoli had turned away once more seemingly preparing to go to sleep. Tie him up till morning. The rags in his hand useless, he cast around but could see nothing of use in this foreign cell. His searching would undoubtedly alert the other man. Pulling at his hair, God he was tired. Tense but his body now craved sleep. Fuck.

Lying down tentively on the bunk fully clothed, he couldn't relax. That was a given, this wasn't a relaxing atmosphere. No movement from above, just deep breathing. Was the bastard really asleep already or just pretending? He got up again and carefully peered at the older man. Good, it looked as if he'd gone to sleep. Was he really going to do nothing, leave him alone? But this was his chance! Maybe it didn't get him going when it would be so easy. Maybe the danger of being discovered at any minute was what did it for him.

But the attacks had been planned and planned well. Or maybe he needed a spectator. Or maybe...this was all part of the same plan? Owed a Hack? Which one? The one that suggested putting him in here? Alvarez hadn't known him. It made sense. Or maybe...? Too many questions theories. 'Face it hermano, you're fucked'.

Rubbing a hand across his stomach he knew he needed sleep, he had been surviving on very little. He carefully laid back down staring at the bunk above him. He tried to get his body to relax, it did somewhat, but his mind was in turmoil. Too many questions, too many theories. After the last encounter, assault he amended, he had felt so bereft at his response, the fact that not only had his physical self responded to the hands upon him, but he himself had 'enjoyed' the incident.

That he hadn't cared if anyone knew or could have seen him taken in such away later sickened him. He wasn't someone's bitch, a plaything to be pulled in on a string. He became so angry at himself, frustrated. So sure who his repeated attackers were, Keller and Beecher. He'd begun to lay plans drawing O'Riely in. It was going to be hard to get one without the other.

Beecher his main target had the best protection. A mad dangerous fucker who was in love with him and obviously would do anything, even watch him fuck another man to keep him happy. But then one spoken word at breakfast, the mispronunciation of his name and it all changed, all his certainty fled. Ryan had confirmed it this morning before the lunch he never ate.

He'd not really believed, it had sounded like bullshit, just an attempt by some one to bolster their reputation but it had also made him think and that one moment when Ryan had touched him, flirting in his usual charming annoying manner, knowing it would go no further, but then had hastily backed off. Not from any rebuke from Alvarez but from something behind him in the corridor.

So he'd had to rethink his plans. The intents and results the same but a change in targets. Still, Keller would be tough and if Beecher got in the way, so be it. He had always felt a bit sorry for the man for all he had gone through but only a bit. He had no time for people who let themselves be victims but that had changed. Beecher had changed. Nearly had as bad a reputation for unstable actions as himself. And it had changed for himself too!

Again the self-loathing made his stomach rebel feeling sick. It had also been revealed that Beecher knew nothing of Keller's activities in this. If told would he help Miguel with his revenge? Or knowing Keller so well, what he was capable off and still think of no one else, just add it to the list of things they were attempting to sort out? He also knew now why Ryan had been reluctant to become involved.

So if the Russian felt he could easily appease O'Riely over involving his younger brother, Ryan had obviously been playing both sides of this drama and thrown his lot in with the other man. After all, as long as Alvarez kept the small trickle of pharmacy drugs coming in, what was it to Ryan O'Riely if his partner got his ass seen to every so often?

And now he was here, locked in the same pod as the man responsible for that 'seeing to his ass'! It was obvious now how he could plan so well with the assitence of a Hack. How had he managed that? Still, Hacks were human after all and as corruptible as the rest.

Miguel yawned and found he was fighting to keep his eyes open but could he dare go to sleep? Slowly, carefully he left his bunk, well his for the night at least, surely tomorrow he would be moved, and stood searching the gloom for any indication the occupant of the top bunk was faining sleep. He had not moved seemingly, the same deep breathing. 'Nothing to disturb his sleep' Miguel thought enviously.

About to get under the thin bed covering, he realised he couldn't sleep in his clothes and shoes. He had no more to change into. Damn it, he didn't want to take anything off! Biting at a nail he studied the sleeping man. He must not be intending anything in here, maybe due to their whereabouts being known. All he had to do was scream and the Hacks would come running.

He sat slowly and removed his shoes, still reluctant then in a quick movement stripped down to his boxers and climbed very carefully under the blanket. Still he lay there, hand on stomach, gazing up at the bunk above, worrying at his nails.

==000==

TBC...