Chapter 17 – The fun of Wild Bill

A thousand views in just one month! I just read through the reviews to this story again and I cannot believe how kind you all are (: Thank you! Here's an extra long chapter, because you guys make my day ;)

And now a warning: This chapter contains slight Ellie/Brutus fluff ^^ (Because I'm basically just as impatient as you guys to have something happening between the two of them! But I promised myself to stay true to my chapter summaries D: )

The infirmary was a huge mess. They had moved it from B-block to bigger and better quarters in A-block, but nothing was in place and the infirmary reminded Ellie of how the Mile had looked after Percy's hissy fit in the restrain room. There were uniformed men everywhere, putting up shelves and moving furniture and it took a while before anyone noticed her.

"Hello, miss Brent."

It was Barry Goodman, the guard who used to check her papers, when she arrived and left the prison. He came strolling towards her, a smile on his face that just kept getting sleeker and slyer every time he saw her. It had started to make her nervous, because his flirtatious tone had also reached one of the most serious levels. He reminded her of Thomas, just before he had asked her out all those years back.

"Mr. Goodman, hi," she greeted him politely. "Have you seen doctor Briscoe?"

"Sure, he's with the patients. Here, follow me."

It would probably have been easier to just point towards the screen down the end of the room, where the patients had been gathered, but he insisted on walking her all the way.

"You are far away from E-block," he said casually. "Did you finally have enough of all them old men?"

Ellie smiled to herself. "No, not at all. But the inmate I came with, has been admitted here, so I just came to check on her."

"Well, I'll like to say I'm sorry about that," Barry responded in a low, conspiratorially tone. "But I hope it means I'll be seeing more of you, while she's here."

"Perhaps," Ellie responded, wishing those words had been said in Brutus' soft, gravelly voice instead…

She was slightly relieved, when she finally spotted doctor Briscoe leaving a patient and she had an excuse to send Barry back to work. She had never been very comfortable around men like him. He was a good-looking chap and he knew it, believing that just the right smile would convince her of the same.

"Doctor Briscoe, am I interrupting?"

"No, miss Brent, not at all. In fact I was just wondering, when you might showed up. Mrs. Reardon's been asking for you."

Ellie actually liked the doctor, even though he was a solemn man, who never cracked a smile. He had a calm, authoritative aura around him and without even raising his voice, he was able to keep the inmates on a short leash. Ellie had been told, that the infirmary was the place with the fewest incidents in the entire prison and she didn't have a hard time believing that.

"How is she, doctor?"

"Oh, better," he said soberly. "She told one of our young medics off just a minute ago, when he tried to tell her what may had caused her seizure. She informed him, that she had had those seizures, before he was even born, so if anyone should give a lecture, it should be her."

Ellie laughed. "That sounds like the Alice I have come to know. So, where are you hiding her?"

"She got her own suite down there," Briscoe said, nodding to a curtain in the corner. "She's awake now, so if you wanna see her, it's fine with me."

"Thank you, doctor."

Alice was sitting straight up against her headboard, a newspaper neatly spread across the woollen blanket. Her grey eyes were just as sharp as they used to be and her first words when she saw Ellie in the curtain opening, was: "Why, you look like you'd had fun all night, my dear."

Ellie scoffed. "I'm afraid, I must disappoint you. What you see here is pure worries and a ruined night's sleep."

Alice nodded solemnly. "I heard about poor Mr. Stanton. They told me he was in here yesterday after one of the inmates tried to kill him. What happened?"

"The new kid happened," Ellie said, sighing. "William Wharton. Charming fella. Likes to strangle the guards, when they have their backs turned against him. Poor Dean… But he's not hurt to bad, thank God."

"I'm glad to hear that, I sure am."

Ellie closed the curtains behind her and sat down on the edge of Alice's bed.

"But Dean wasn't the only one keeping me awake all night," she said softly. "How are you?"

"I assume you're not referring to my physical state," Alice responded in her usually matter-of-fact tone.

Ellie smoothed the blankets, before finally speaking:

"Alice, you do know that you can tell me everything, right?" she said. "If there's anything that troubles you, I'm here. I won't tell a soul."

Alice looked at her carefully, before sighing and shifting her gaze at the newspaper again, pretending to be reading.

"Eleanor, it was just a seizure," she responded cuttingly. "I have those now and then, you know that. Isn't that the whole reason, why you're even here?"

"My biggest priority is your general well-being."

"No, your biggest priority is to make sure I don't drop dead, before the family have chance to see me fry," Alice corrected her coolly.

There were no surprise in those words; they were in fact the ugly truth, but they still hit Ellie harder, than she could ever imagine. She looked down at her lap, vainly trying to remember the defence speech she had practiced for this particular occasion, but suddenly all she could remember was John Coffeys strange words: I'm sorry, I can't take away our guilt…

She felt awful. Alice was right: She was paid to keep her alive, so others could kill her. What a nurse she had become…

Then, to her astonishment, Alice reached for her hand and squeezed it.

"Forgive me, Eleanor," she said, very quietly. "That was horribly said."

Ellie cleared her throat and tried to smile. "Well, it's still true, isn't it? We both know that…"

"Yes," Alice said softly. "But you're good girl and I'm grateful to have you by my side. It's just…" She paused and Ellie waited.

"It's just what?" she asked.

Alice smiled, still squeezing her hand, but her grip suddenly felt slightly desperate. Like a child clinging to its mother.

"I'm just glad you're here," she said again. "That's all."

"You sure, you're okay?" Ellie asked concerned.

Alice patted her hand, before she let go.

"I'm fine," she lied. "Perfectly fine."

oOo

Had there ever been a naive fool left who was convinced that William Wharton wouldn't give them any more trouble after the incident on the day of his arrival, he was soon to be proven wrong. Whartons attempted murder on Dean wasn't just a one-off offence, made in ominously playfulness. It was hardly the beginning. And it didn't take Brutus very long to figure out, that Whartons dirty mouth could spew out more than just filthy words either – even though he was very good at that, yelling obscene platitudes at the other guards and inmates, but especially Ellie, as soon as she stepped through the door. She hardly turned a hair, though, but Brutus nearly went through the ceiling.

"Relax," she said, almost dragging him into the office after a particularly coarse taunt that afternoon. "He's just an out-grown bully: All he wants is attention and if you give that to him, he will just continue doing it."

"Didn't you hear what he said?" Brutus growled, his face flushing with both rage and embarrassment on her behalf. "He… God, I swear, if he talks to you like that again, I'll rip his disgusting tongue out!"

Ellie smiled. "We had a local pub just a couple of houses from the nursing school, where I studied, so I'm pretty sure, I have heard it all."

"Oh, you have heard nothing yet," Brutus said grimly. "I tell you, he ain't even warmed up…"

So he did. Like a fever. When Paul came back to work the next day, Wharton was at the bars, quick like a weasel and his eyes shining with frantic delight.

"Where'd you been?" he asked, grinning. "Did'it really take the doctor so long, to get ya balls back in place."

"Watch your tone, Wharton," Paul warned him, surprisingly calmly.

Brutus eyed his superior from the other side of the front desk. One day off seemed to have done miracles to him. He looked like a man who had just returned from a week holiday.

"You look better today," he noticed. Paul looked up at him.

"Yes, I was at the doctor yesterday," he said, putting his metal lunchbox on the table. "Already feeling much better."

Brutus frowned. "After just one day? What kinds off miracle pills did'e give ya?"

. "No idea," Paul said with a smile. "But they worked, so I ain't complaining."

But he soon found something else to complain about. In fact, they all did, because Wharton had long decided, that this day should not be allowed to slump down in peace and quietness. It all started when Paul snapped open his lunch box, revealing a smell of freshly baked cornbread on the entire Mile.

"Smells good," Brutus noticed.

"It's not for you."

Brutus scoffed. "Should 'ave known that. But don't you dare give the kid something. He's been very unpleasant towards Ellie."

"Don't worry, it's not for him either," Paul said, scooping up the cornbread, before walking to Coffeys cell. They were talking, but Brutus couldn't hear the exact words, and in the end the bread was shared between Delacroix and Coffey. As soon as Wharton smelled the rat, he was out of his bunk, shaking the bars.

"Hey!" he yelled. "What about me? I'm'a get some too, ain't I?"

"Not before you learn to treat the people on this Mile with some respect," Paul told him.

"You mean the little hussy and the big, dumb nigger?" Wharton said, his lips twisting unpleasantly. "Why don't you come in 'ere 'n make me?"

Paul stepped to his cell, his face hard.

"You keep a civil tone on my block," he said. "You understand that?"

For a moment, Wharton just stood there, looking like he actually thought it over. But then he leaned back – and spat Paul right in the face.

Brutus had to admire Pauls patience; if he had been the target, he would have strangled Wharton through the bars, but Paul just wiped it off with his hankie.

"You get that one's for free," he told Wharton coldly. "But next time, we won't be so forgiving."

Wharton grinned after him, as he left. "That's it? Just that iddy biddy one? Guess I'll have to pay ya out for the rest, huh?"

His next great stunt happened late that morning, when Harry was doing a cell check, strolling calmly down the Mile with his clipboard. Suddenly, he gave a yelp of surprise and jolted back, like someone had pointed a gun at him.

Paul and Brutus dropped their files and rose instantly from the front desk, just to find Wharton bend over, his junk still hanging out and laughing so hard, he could hardly breathe. Harry stood flabbergasted outside his cell, his trousers wet from the knees and down.

"You believe that?" he said. "Son of a bitch pissed on me!"

"You damn right I did!" Wharton howled, grinning like a hyena. "How d'yall like that, huh! I'm currently cooking some turds t'go with it! Nice soft ones! I'll have 'em out t'yall tomorrow! That ougtha learn you, that nobody tells Billy the Kid what to do! Ye'haw!"

Paul took a deep breath and leaned towards Brutus.

"We've been meaning to clear out the restrain room for a while, haven't we?" he asked casually.

Brutus chuckled. "Oh, yeah…"

oOo

Whartons eyes narrowed, as Brutus and Paul took their positions outside his cell. His glare shifted from Brutus' nightstick to the straitjacket in Paul's hands, before he stepped back, cornered like a wild animal.

"You can come in 'ere on yer legs," he warned them, grinning franticly. "But you'll go out on your backs. Billy the Kid's gonna guarantee you that. You first, fuckstick," he said, motioned to Brutus. "No sneaking up on me this time."

Brutus kept his eyes on him, as he slid opened the cell door. But he didn't go in. Instead, he sidestepped, revealing Harry with the fire hose.

"Piss on me?" Harry asked him, the joy on his face as clear as day.

This was an unexpected twist, Wharton hadn't seen coming. Before he had time to react, Harry turned the handle on the nozzle and the water hit him with maximum force. He was blown back and slammed against the raw brick wall. Kicking and screaming, the water forced him to his knees, but Harry didn't turn off the water, until Wharton stopped fighting and the jet nearly blew him under the bunk.

He was halfway unconscious, when they could finally put the straitjacket on him and drag him out.

The green linoleum was swimming in water, all the way down to the front desk. They were in for a rotten clean-up afterwards, but right now it just felt kind of satisfying, to squash the gagging and soaked Wharton to the wet floor and tightened the jacket around him.

Paul yanked at his arm.

"C'mon, Wild Bill," he teased. "Little walky walky."

"Don't yer call me that!" Wharton cried out in a hoarse, angry voice, as they pulled him to his feet. "Will Bill Hickock were no range rider! He was just a bushwackin' John Law! Dumb sonofabitch sat with his back against the door and got killed by a drunk!"

"Oh, my suds and body," Brutus said dryly, "a history lesson. You just never know what you're gonna get, when you come to work everyday at the Green Mile. Thank you, Wild Bill."

Wharton let out an animalistic cry of rage and tossed himself at Brutus, his teeth exposed like a rabid dog. Brutus pushed him back, into the arms of Paul and they both grabbed an elbow and dragged him towards the restrain room.

It wasn't until now, that it finally occurred to Wharton, what they were actually going to do with him. He dug his heels into the slippery floor, snapping for air. It was the first time, Brutus heard him pleade:

"Oh, no! No, not in there! C'mon, guys, I'll be good!"

"To late," Paul said smoothly. "We think you need a little time of your own, to think about what you have done."

Whartons answer was a hoarse gagging sound – and then his body cramped, twisting like a fish out of water. Brutus nearly dropped him in surprise.

"Jesus Christ, he's pitchin' a fit."

"He'll be fine," Paul responded calmly. "Trust me on this one."

"Shouldn't we get Ellie to come and have a look at him?"

Paul snorted. "You think he's worth it?"

"Of course not, but think of the damn paper work."

That seemed to have a slight impact on Paul. He stopped and they stared at Wharton, coughing up mucus and water, from the fire hose, until he was breathing fairly normal again.

"Bet this is the first time, you're happy, that Ellie ain't here?" Paul said, looking up at Brutus, his eyes brows slightly raised. Brutus shot him a look. "Where is she, anyway? The infirmary?"

"I suggested her to stay with Alice all day," Brutus said dogged. "To get her away from that." He yanked Wharton up by his elbow, when the kid started to fight back again. "She left with Percy, Dean and Barry this morning."

Paul chuckled. "That reminds me: You better get moving, if you still want her."

Brutus frowned. "What'ya talking 'bout?"

"I ran into him on my way over here and he told me, he was thinking about asking her out…"

Brutus felt his grip slip, but suddenly it wasn't important at all. Wharton was nothing but a secondary threat. If Percy got her, his life would already be damaged…

Unfortunately, Wharton did not agree with this sudden downgrade. He yanked his arm out of Brutus' hand and threw himself at the tall guard, shoulder first. Brutus felt his ribs bend, pushing the air out of his lungs. Paul shouted something. The pain kick-started Brutus' anger and he grabbed Wharton by the neck and showed him face-first into the restrain room.

Paul slammed the door and locked it.

"Christ, Brutal," he gasped. "I thought you had him,"

"I had!" Brutus growled back through clenched teeth. Even through the padded walls, they could hear Wharton, throwing himself against the door and screaming at the top of his lungs: "All I wanted me was a little cornbread, you motherfuckers! All I wanted me was a little cornbread!"

Paul gave Brutus a careful, almost worried look. "You okay?"

"Fine," Brutus mumbled, even though every breathe felt like he had a knife stuck between his ribs.

"You don't look fine to me. Your ribs broken?"

"No. Bruised, perhaps. I'll be fine in a minute. Oh, don't give me that look. We have work to do."

oOo

William Wharton wasn't let out of the restrain room, until late that afternoon. Six hours in the padded cell had seemed to calm him down. He was meek and drained, when they dragged him out and put him back in his cell. Like a changed man.

Oh, how wrong they were.

Around six o'clock Paul and Ellie was sitting in the office, sorting files, while Brutus was walking the afternoon round among the prisoners, to make sure everything was fine. The Mile had been peaceful and quiet for hours, so when Wharton suddenly gave a violent shriek of laughter, it was like an air-raid warning. Ellie and Paul exchanged anxious looks, but before they could rose from the chairs, Brutus burst into the office, so angry he looked like the beginning of a very nasty storm.

"Jesus…" Paul said, halfway out of his chair. Brutus' face and uniform jacket were partly covered in something viscid and brown. Given Whartons earlier promise about payback, it looked dangerously similar to…

"It's not what it looks like!" Brutus snarled. "It's chocolate! And when I find the bastard, who gave it to him, I'm gonna…!"

Paul's grunt of laughter cut him blunt of. Brutus shot him an enraged look.

"It ain't funny!" he growled.

"Nah, you're right." Paul grinned widely and Ellie bowed her head to hide her own smile. "It's hilarious! Geez, Brutal – how'd he manage to do it?"

Brutus flushed underneath the brown goop. "That ain't important! He just earned himself another trip to the restrain room!"

Paul made the distinguish stifled sound of a man trying to choke down a laughter.

"All right, all right. I'm coming. But couldn't you have said so before – Harry and I had a job rolling that damn fire hose back together…"

Brutus' blood was still boiling dangerously, when they finally had Wharton in the restrain room again and he could step into the tiny toilet and clean himself up. He grabbed the towel and wiped his face, before throwing it into the sink. As he leaned against the edge, his bruised rib gave a flicker of pain.

He stared gloomily at his reflection and the chocolate-smeared jacket, before tearing off his tie. He had fall foul of that kid twice now – and lost both time. Never had he felt so humiliated. He was going to be the laughing stock of the entire prison, if the incidents came out.

Someone approached the open toilet door and Brutus straightened, but not even the sight of Ellie could lift his mood. Especially not when he caught her eyes and she couldn't help but smile.

"It's still ain't funny," he said bitterly.

Ellie bit her lip bashfully and cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry," she said, twisting a clean towel in her hands. "I have not come to laugh at you, I promise. Here."

He gazed at her, before taking the towel, but she had hidden every trace of laughter well. The closest thing he could read in her eyes was sympathy and the rage in his chest dwindled away; leaking, like someone had removed a bung inside him.

"Thank you," he muttered and started to wipe the chocolate stains off his jacket.

"Brutus, you are smearing it out," Ellie objected softly. "Let me do it."

She stepped into the toilet and took the towel from his hand, before he had a chance to protest. After soaking a corner of the towel under the tap, she started dapping the chocolate off the reverse of his jacket.

Her suddenly close presence caught him off guard; he found himself holding his breath, his heart racing, like she was some beautiful, rare animal he didn't wanted to scare off.

"See," she said, smoothing his left reverse. "Almost gone. But I'm not sure I can get the stains of your collar, though. Chocolate on white cloth is a nightmare."

"That's gonna be Percy's headache," Brutus answered weakly. "He's on laundry duty this week."

She smiled without raising her gaze and he watched the soft curves of her lips, the urge to kiss them almost unbearable. Wonder what she would do, if he just did it?

You would never do that, a gruesome voice whispered in his head. You're too scared… And now Percy will get her… You old coward…

He was a coward. He really was. God, he could walk around murders and rapists all day, but he couldn't tell a woman, how much he liked her. What the hell was wrong with him? He wanted her so bad, it had started to fell like a psychical pain in his chest…

In his mind's eyes, he suddenly saw himself bend his head slowly and kiss her. No, he did more than that: He was holding her close, kissing her neck and making her short of breath, her body pressed against his… His heart started pounding again, pushing painfully against his bruised rib…

He was far away, when the real Ellie finally looked up at him and in a panicky second Brutus realised just how inappropriate his thoughts were. He flushed a deep scarlet and took a step back without even thinking about it... As a result, the back of his head slammed into the corner of the toilet cistern, so hard it sang in porcelain.

"Ouch!"

"Oh, mind your head!"

Brutus squeezed his eyes shot, as stars popped in front of him. "A bit late for that."

He felt the back of his head and winched at the painfully swelling.

Ellie looked up at him with a concerned smile. "It's not really your day today, is it?"

"Gee, ya think?" he said dryly.

Her smile fainted and he could have kicked himself.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean to…"

"Don't think about it," she said quickly. "I would be pissed too, if someone had glazed me with Moon Pie."

"Still, it doesn't give me the right to snap at ya like that."

She smiled carefully. "I can take it. Now – will you please sit down, before anything else happens?"

Brutus slumped down on the toilet seat, his head still throbbing and hurting like hell. But then Ellie stepped closer, dragging him in to that magical area when every pain seemed to vanish and the air suddenly got so thin, he could hardly breathe. She examined his head with gentle hands.

"You're not bleeding," she said. "But you've got a pretty nasty bump."

Brutus swallowed, trying to think of something clever to say, but his mind was blank like a mirror; the only thing that seemed surprisingly clear to him, was the fact that she was standing between his knees, giving him a perfect view of her… female virtues.

"Uh… good."

She stepped back a bit and he could finally force his glare away.

"You want me to get you some ice for the swelling?" she asked.

"No, it's fine. It's not that bad, really."

"You are a horrible liar," she said softly. "And I already know you guys are tough – you don't have to pretend all the time."

"We do that?" Brutus said with a little smirk.

She smiled – then she reached out and stroked the throbbing part of his head with a featherlike touch, before she left the toilet. It was probably as innocent, as anything else she had done to him, but his body felt like it had been filled with sparkling water; bubbles rising, filling his head and chest and leaving him all woozy.

oOo

Even though the evening was warm and beautiful, at the time Brutus reached his house that night, he felt as discouraged as a lost man in a snowstorm. The thought about losing Ellie to Percy had been stuck in his head all the way home. If it had been just a couple of days earlier, he would never have thought it possible, but recently it seemed that Ellie had softened towards the young guard. Heaven, she was even ready to get rid of Mr. Jingles, because he said so.

Brutus stopped the car in front of his house and sat for a minute, staring at the red sky and the sunset, before an impatient bark shook him out of his daydream. When he opened the car door, he was greeted by a giant, grey dog, who tried to jump into his arms.

"Gosh, Bear, take it easy," Brutus said, but couldn't help but smile. He patted the dogs head, brushing sand out of his fur. He had probably been sleeping underneath the porch all day. Brutus didn't have the heart to leave him inside all day. And he couldn't bear to have him on a leash all day, either. Thankfully, Bear was a heavy, thick-coated dog with the heart of a sloth, so he rarely ran off in the heat anyway and there was quite a run to the nearest neighbours.

"You hungry, boy?" he asked, as they walked up the driveway. "Come on, let's find something to eat."

He ate more of obligation, than actual hunger. Never had his house seemed so big and silent, the kitchen so empty. His loneliness had never bothered him, but now it felt like a prison. Of course, he had never really missed anything before. Or anyone. Not until now.

He stepped out on his porch, just in time to see the sun disappear behind the fields. Bear came out and sat next to him, nudging his wet nose against Brutus' hand, until he absently started rubbing the dog's ears.

He's thinking about asking her out…

Brutus leaned against the wooden pillar of his porch and took a deep breath, which he quickly regretted, when his bruised rib acted up. He was going to lose her. She would soon leave Cold Mountain for good. She would meet someone handsomer and a lot younger than Brutus and marry him. And he would still be here, in a house that was to big for just one person and never be able to stop thinking about her.

Brutus felt his jaw tighten. And then there was Percy…

Could he beg her not to go out with him? Even in his head, it sounded stupid:

Please, Ellie, don't go out with him. Why? Because I'm head-over-heels in love with you and if you would just give me one or two years, there's a good chance I might have found the courage to ask you out…

He squeezed his eyes shot and shocked both himself and Bear by slamming his fist into the pillar. The entire wooden frame of his porch shivered, sending leafs from the wild vine pouring down from above like green rain.

He ran a hand down his face and glanced to his right.

"Sorry boy," he muttered and Bear rushed to him, eyes screwed and ears hanging, like he was the one to apologize. Brutus stroked his soft head and sighed.

"You're a lucky bastard, you know that," he told the dog. "Don't you ever fall in love. It's hell, I tell you."

The only answer he got was a gentle tail wag.

Hang in there, Brutus. The sun will come back again…