A/N: Some of you asked how did they fake Chris's supposed death to get Ezra framed. It will be explained I hope in time, but basically, they have some people helping them to fake records, a person who looks like Chris and some other stuff. Anyway, let's continue,

A week went by with no new discovery of Team Seven's fearless leader.

Ezra was sure he had checked everywhere in his section in the prison, and with alternating between laundry duty and kitchen duty, he still was unable to make any headway.

A mandatory chapel was that afternoon, and though he could use a brief distraction, he wasn't going to pretend as if he was a fan of church and everything like Josiah.

He sat in his plastic chair near the back, listening to the conversation around him while they waited for the chaplain to show up.

The seat next to his was taken by a heavyset man whose leg just so happened to brush up against his own.

Not even bothering to look over, Ezra scooted his seat a little further away. Dread fell over him as the man nudged his seat closer, spreading his legs out and again touching Ezra's. Only moving his eyes, Ezra saw the man touching himself while no doubt looking Ezra over.

On review, it was probably not the best place to sit, after all, the corner in the back of the room. No one could see what was going on to you, and you cornered yourself in.

Dammit!

The chaplain finally entered and took up position on the small stage.

Ezra found he recognized the man. Not from anything other than a brief introduction. It had been one of Chris's friends. A Navy chaplain. He must've switched from preaching to soldiers to preaching to convicts. A lot of lost souls here for sure.

The message for the day wasn't painfully long and had an open discussion at the end. When it was over, Ezra was grateful for the excuse to get out of his seat. The disgusting man who had been sitting next to him had made several attempts at laying his hands on him. One time, he got bold enough to actually try and reach between Ezra's legs, but Standish caught the hand and bent back the fingers until the man got the hint and stopped.

Moving to the front of the room, Ezra waited to have his turn to speak with the chaplain. It was best if he were last so they wouldn't be overheard.

"What can I do for you, brother?" asked the chaplain who, for the newcomers, told them his name was Zack Yates.

"I believe we met before, sir," Ezra smiled, giving the man a smile since he felt that a handshake would be frowned upon by the guards nearby.

"Is that so? Did you come to one of my sermons before?"

"No, but I believe our mutual acquaintance introduced us a while back. A tall man with blond hair and a short temper," Ezra tested.

"That sounds like a few men in here, but I believe I know to whom you're referring to," the man nodded, his eyes showing his understanding.

"Have you seen our mutual friend lately?"

Yates looked to the guard before gesturing for Ezra to take a seat with him.

"Tell me about yourself, brother."

Ezra frowned in annoyance, "You know I'm not here to talk to you about myself. Normally I'd have more patience and give you a story, feed you lies and all that shit, but no. I've been groped and harassed since I've been here. I've been in six fights and the whole dropping soap thing nearly became my fate. So don't fuck with me!"

Yates smiled, not put out by the other man's anger, "Definitely one of Chris's. I suppose you don't want to be told that you take after him."

"The way you put it, it sounds like you're referring us to father and son. In that case, you would be wrong."

"Yes, but I was thinking more along the lines of father-figure. That was for me too when I served under Larabee. I remember a conversation we had a couple of months ago when we hung out together one evening. He told me about you boys. Damn proud of each and every one of you. Especially 'his boys' as he referred to you, Tanner and Dunne. You three give the rest of them gray hairs with all the stress you lot cause," Yates chuckled.

As much as Ezra wanted to continue this conversation about what Larabee said about them while he was with his old friends, Standish was on a mission.

"Is he here?" he asked in a low voice.

"Pretty sure, yes."

"But not a hundred percent?"

"Time to go," called the guard.

Ezra reluctantly stood up along with Yates.

"I'll see you next week for chapel," the chaplain smiled.

"And if I need saving before then?" Ezra asked.

Yates handed him his business card.

"I suggest you don't spend all your phone calls calling me, but try and talk to your family some. Remember, the road to salvation is seeking forgiveness. With yourself and with those whose lives you've touched."

Yates walked out of the room and Ezra slipped the card into his pocket to read later.

His time out in the yard was as unpleasant as usual. The smell of cigarettes had lost its appeal and the way these men were puffing them, they were trying to shorten their lifespan with getting lung cancer.

As he sat against the wall, a secure spot in which he could see everything around him, he decided to check the card Yates gave him. On one side it had the man's number and name, on the other side, it had the section name in which Chris was possibly being held up in.

sighing, Ezra stuffed the small piece of paper back into his pocket. From the distance, he could see Robbie making his way over to him.

"I know they say fresh air and exercise is good for the health, Mr. Ripper, but with some many people smoking, I don't think it is wise to be out here with your already compromised health."

"Stop fretting about me, Fed," Robbie grumbled as he took a seat by Ezra with at least an arm's distance between them, "Been asking around. Seems that a few people saw your boy come in here a while back."

"Do they know where he was placed?" Ezra tried to keep the eagerness out of his voice.

"Section F. They keep the mentally unstable ones down there. Your man must've cracked, whatever happened to him."

Ezra frowned, "Chris would never suddenly have mental problems. He's fine."

"Well, then that must mean there is someone who wants to make others believe he's gone mental. If that's the case, you're looking at him possibly being transferred to another facility like a sanitorium for prisoners. I'm talking electric shock therapy and drooling."

Standish sighed, not knowing what he should do next.

"I suppose that section is closed off from the rest of the prison."

"Secured door with lots of cameras on the other side," Robbie nodded.

Ezra rose a questioning eyebrow as he looked at the older man sitting next to him, "You've been on that side?"

"Once. When my heart tried to give out a couple years back. It definitely ain't the place you'd want to stay in for too long. You might not come back out."

"So, let's just say, if I were to get injured, I'd be taken back there for treatment," Ezra asked hypothetically.

Robbie looked at him as if he were crazy, "Why the hell would you want to do a foolish thing like that? Even if your boss is back there. You'll be locked up in a separate room from him. Those doors don't open once they close either unless they want them to. You're basically in solitary confinement."

"I need to make sure he's in there and assess his condition."

Robbie snorted, "Again if he's in there and hasn't been out since the beginning of his stay, I'd say that his condition ain't looking too hot."