Fluff-warning at the end. Because I just can't help myself… ^^,

Chapter 25 – A promise between men

"Brutal," Paul said in a surprisingly calm tone. "Come with me. The rest of you, get back to work,"

Ellie loosened her grip on his hand, but Brutus didn't let go of her, until Paul shot him a look. He wasn't exactly keen on the idea of leaving her here, because to be honest, he had no damned clue of what had just happened. His eyes had seen a crushed mouse being healed back to life in the palms of John Coffeys hands, but his mind refused to believe it.

Reluctantly, he followed Paul up the Mile.

"Paul, what the hell was…" he began, when they walked through the office, but his superior cut him blunt off:

"Not now."

Brutus frowned. Paul seemed strangely untouched by the whole incident, but perhaps he was just keeping a straight face for the sake of his position.

"Where are we going?" Brutus asked instead.

"I think it's time we had a little talk with Percy," Paul answered tranquilly. "Just you and me."

Brutus' frown slowly turned into a smirk behind Paul's back. He liked the sound of that; the last time Paul made such a casual allusion, they had the time of their life with William Wharton and the fire hose…

They found Percy in the execution room; the young guard was polishing Ol' Sparky and he looked up with a despicable smile, when they stepped in.

"Now, don't start in on me," he drawled. "It was just a mouse. Never belonged here in the first place."

He spat on the rag and moved further op the backrest. Paul watched him for a moment, his arms crossed in front of him.

"Percy, the mouse is fine," he said calmly. "Just fine. You're no better at mouse-killing than you are at anything else around here."

Percy snorted with disbelief. "You expect me to believe that? I heard the goddamn thing crunch."

"Aren't you glad Mr. Jingles is alive?" Paul said and stepped closer to the young guard. The calmness in his voice had turned perilously chilly. "After all the talks we had about keeping the prisoners calm. Aren't you relieved?"

Percy wasn't smiling anymore. He glared at Paul.

"What kind of game is this?" he asked quietly.

Paul shook his head. "No game. Go look for yourself."

Percy hesitated and turned his glare to Brutus, like he was expecting some kind of explanation from him. Brutus didn't move a muscle.

"Fine," said Percy bluntly and dropped the rag on the seat of Ol' Sparky, before striding past them. They could hear his keys and belt rattle, as he walked down the hallway and out through the office. They waited in silence. Brutus had almost expected an outburst of rage from him, when Percy reached Del's cell, but instead he came stalking back, bursting through the open door.

"You switched him!" he whispered in rage, his face pale. "You switched him somehow, you bastards!"

"Yeah, I always keep a spare mouse in my valet for occasions such as this," Brutus responded dryly.

Percy stared hatefully at him.

"You're playing with me," he hissed and stepped up to Brutus. "The both of you! Just who the hell do you think you are…"

Brutus snapped. It wasn't even his intention, but suddenly he had just had enough of Percy and his bloated ego. He seized him by the neck and slammed him into Ol' Sparky. The backrest squeaked; if the chair hadn't been bolted to the floor, it would probably have been knocked down the platform.

With both hands on his arms, he pinned Percy down until Paul stepped in from the side and grapping the horrified young guard by his collar.

"We're the people you work with, Percy," he growled. "But not for long. I want your word."

Percy gaped at him, mouth open, like he couldn't believe their fierce treatment of him.

"My… my word?"

"I put you out front for Del," Paul said grimly. "And you put in your transfer for Briar Ridge the very next day."

"Well, what if I just call up certain people," Percy retorted. "Tellin' 'em you're harassing me. Bullying me."

He tried to appear all big and fearless, but his voice trembled so bad, it sounded like he was about to cry. Paul fleered.

"Go ahead," he said in a low voice. "I promise you'll leave your share of blood on the floor."

Percy blinked. "Over a mouse?"

"No. But five people will swear you stood by when Wharton tried to strangle Dean to death. About that people will care, Percy. Even your uncle the governor will care."

"Things like that will go on your work record," Brutus joined in. "And work records can follow a man for a long, long time."

Percy said nothing. Brutus was still holding his arms like a vice and Percy's heart was beating so fast, he could feel his pulse through the uniform. The boy was terrified of them, but did his best not to show it. Wetting his lips with his tongue, he fixed his eyes on Paul.

"What do you want from me?" he whispered bitterly.

"I told you – I put you out front, you put in your transfer. That's the deal. Okay?"

Percy hesitated, then gave a quick nod. They released him. The young guard sat up straight in the chair, adjusted his uniform and let his hands run over his sweaty forehead and through his hair with overly calm movements. Not for a second did he look at them. Somehow he reminded Brutus of a little boy fighting back a hizzy fit, which was both comical and a bit infuriating.

With his hair finally back in place, Percy addressed the floor tonelessly: "Can I go now?"

Instead of answering, Paul stretched out his arm towards Percy. It almost look like he was about to slap him flat across the face, but before Brutus could get all resentful about it, he realised that Paul was offering Percy his hand.

Brutus gaped at his superior. So did Percy; he had probably been expecting the same thing and the mistrust was written all over his face, when he looked up at Paul.

"When you make a promise to a man," Paul said in a low, intense tone, "you shake his hand."

Percy had hardly raised his hand from his lap before Paul grabbed it and hauled him forcefully out of the chair. The shaken young guard stumbled to his feet, helplessly trapped in the grasp, as Paul pulled him close.

"Clever boy," Brutus heard Paul growl, before breaking the handshake the same way you would throw something away, you didn't even wanted to touch in the first place.

oOo

"What happened?" Dean asked quietly, when Paul and Brutus returned from the execution room moments later. "We thought we heard a little… commotion."

"Oh, we just talked," Paul responded calmly. "About certain rules around here, you know… Proper manners."

Brutus met Ellie's gaze across the room and she raised her brows at him. Really… He smirked.

"And what about the execution tomorrow?" Harry asked seriously.

"What about it?"

"Are you still gonna let him be up front after all he'd done today?"

Paul looked out in the hallway to make sure Percy was still out of earshot, before he closed the office door.

"We have his word now," he said. "If we give him this chance, he'll put in his transfer."

"Del's gonna hate it," Dean said softly.

"I know," Paul muttered. "But Del's gonna die anyway, no matter who's up front and this might be our only change to get rid of Percy for good."

The office went quiet, bit it was a rather oppressive silence and certainly not due to lack of words to be spoken. Dean and Harry exchanged looks: There were hotter topics to discuss than Percy's possible departure and Brutus had a feeling that the office had been buzzing, while he and Paul had been away.

Paul must have been able to sense the expecting atmosphere too, but he made no sign of wanting to discuss the earlier event. Quite the contrary: As soon as Harry coughed suggestively to break the silence, Paul turned his attention to Brutus.

"Brute, could you cover for me for an hour or so. I need to go to the library."

"Uh, sure?"

The guards stared after him when he left without another word.

"The library?" Harry repeated. "We just witnessed a mouse resurrection and he wants to go to the freaking library? What's he up to?"

Brutus shrugged. "Beats me."

oOo

It was almost seven o'clock in the evening before Paul returned to E-block, still unusually concise. Brutus had left an hour ago, but Paul hardly seemed to notice. A little later Ellie found him sitting alone on the bench outside in the yard with a thick pile of files on his knees.

"The boys are worried about you, Paul," she said, when she reached him. "And they are a little bit alarmed about what John Coffey did to Mr. Jingles. They don't know what to make of it." When Paul raised his head to look at her, she added. "I haven't told them anything about your bladder infection."

"Good girl."

Ellie sat down next to him. "What are you reading?"

"John Coffey's trial-files." He paused. "Something ain't right."

"What's the problem?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I guess I'm just looking for something that can explain why a raping baby murder has the ability to remove infections and heal mice back to life."

"I would really like to hear the answer to that too, if you ever find it," Ellie responded quietly.

Paul closed the file with a soft sigh.

"There's nothing in his papers," he said. "Not a word about special powers or healing miracles – not even a silly statement spoken by Coffey himself."

"Perhaps he doesn't want anyone to know about it?"

"Yeah…" Paul said thoughtfully and pulled out another file.

"Paul," Ellie said slowly. "Are you ever going to tell the boys, what John did to you?"

"I'm not sure." He hesitated and looked back at E-block. "Perhaps I'll do it, when I know what the hell to tell them."

"Maybe you should talk to John himself?"

Paul snorted half-heartedly. "He ain't much help. I asked him, remember? Dean asked him, too. He took it back, that's all he says. Honestly, I don't even think he knows what's happening."

They sat in silence for a while, before Ellie remembered the time and got up from the bench. "I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow."

When she walked down the parking lot ten minutes later, Paul was still in the yard, looking as lost as when she left him. She felt sorry for him; the tranquil vacuum that used to be the heart of E-block and which he had worked so hard to maintain since the first incident with Coffey was now dangerously close to be shattered to pieces.

His guard, the bedrock of the Mile, had been shaken. Even Brutus, though most of his worry seemed to concern her. She felt bad about it; she wished she could tell him that the only reason why she had been so quiet today was because she was afraid she would blurt out her and Pauls' secret.

This place… she thought, as she got closer to the bus stop. I don't even know what to believe anymore… I hardly know what to do…

She stopped dead in front of the shelter.

There was something on the bench. It was such an unexpected, yet completely normal thing that it took Ellie a moment or two to really understand what it was: A bouquet of sunflowers, bound up in cord of straw.

She picked it up. It really was sunflowers… With big heads and the brightest yellow colour, exactly like those at on the field in Fordoche…

Her heart skipped a beat and then she burst into a smile.

Oh, Brutus…

The thought of him driving all the way to their shelter and all the way back to the prison again, just to leave he flowers for her to find, was enough to make her blush with bliss and her heart to beat faster. Despite all that had happened today, he had thought about her…

She was still smiling, when the bus arrived and she could climb onboard, the flowers hugged so tightly in her arms, it was a wonder she hadn't broken them by the time she got home.