The Peacekeeper

by J_Flattermann

Chapter 1: Labels

 

The Peacekeeper

Fandom: Crossover, Extremely Dangerous / Prison

Pairing: Neil Byrne / Charles Forsythe

Rating: PG-13

Genre: Slash

Word Count: 1260

Disclaimer: Pure fiction. Non of the characters are mine. No copyright infringement intended. Beta’ed by my lovely friend , however all mistakes are mine.

A/N: AU, the story below has nothing in common with the two movies. I just needed to borrow the characters for my own mind child.

 

 

 

 

His head rested on my shoulder as we lay together in my bunk, sharing a cigy.

I had never thought to have such happy times, not in this place anyway.

My mind wandered back. I couldn't even say when he had taken notice of me. I had been transferred from another institution. Had a label to my name. 'Extremely Dangerous' it read.

I had heard of him of course. He was famous. He was the 'Peacekeeper'.

As long as he was in here, they would keep the truce. He stopped men from getting killed just by being in here. So they all said. And they also said that he had to stay in here until he died.

Rumour around the other facilities had it that anyone who shared his cell was doomed to die soon. Very soon. Everyone who had been sent in had not lived through the night.

All other inhabitants were keen on keeping a close eye on him, even though he was never allowed to mingle. It seemed that, just like me he was down for single confinement.

The 'pigeon post' told of him getting regular visits from a guy in a smart suit, a lawyer perhaps.

I knew about his warring families and knew that he was an innocent bystander. But his luck had made him the “Peacekeeper” and therefore he had been sent to prison. My story was a different one, one I couldn't tell. They had me in for murder. A murder I hadn't committed but that didn't matter now. For if I ever made it outside I would be a murderer, I was sure of it.

They had kept me away from all prisoners in that other facility and it was same here as well.  Not only because they had me labelled but because I was a turned copper. A copper who had fallen foul of  the law.

They also had me down as crazy. Crazy enough to attack the 'king'. Each prison had their 'kings'. If you took them on first thing and succeeded, then everyone would leave you alone. I knew that. Knew the rules. Picked the king out of the crowd like shooting fish in a barrel.

My fame travelled fast and when I was brought here everyone whispered. No need to take on 'kings' anymore. They stuffed me into a small, dark hole. The guard laughed a tic nervously when he turned the key. I didn't care any longer. I had stopped caring a long, long time ago. Stopped caring the day I found them. Slaughtered in our home. My family; my wife and daughter. They had pinned it on me. To make me suffer even more.

But that was in another life. Nothing of this mattered to me anymore.  I had changed. Prison. No, no the murder of my family had changed me. Each label they pinned on me now fitted like a glove.

Strangely enough the 'pigeon post' in all facilities uses the same codes. As if on a secret word of command. The messages sent around were so easy to decipher. My presence was announced and warnings were given. Stay clear of that fella, he's as mad as a hatter. Doesn't know friend from foe. That was what they said. Made me chuckle.

It was a few weeks later when the key suddenly turned in the lock on my door. Totally off schedule. This wasn't my time for turns. Taking turns in the yard. I had to do mine all alone. Just six guards and me Wasn't allowed to leave my route until my turn was over. They always cuffed me. Hands and ankles. Every time.

The guard shouted at me. Ordered me to put my hands against to wall and spread my legs.

I did and he grabbed my hands to cuff me, right hand first. I had to turn around and face them.  Three guards. The one who had cuffed my hands now was busy chaining my ankles.

The second guard grabbed up my things. Not that I had much stuff. They walked me out and I could hear the whispers of the other inmates. “Dead Man walking.” They said. There is no death penalty in the country. I knew that very well. No, this remark was for a different reason. I soon learnt what it meant.

They forced me to walk up the stairs. Up, up. Until we nearly reached the roof.

We walked on. Or rather I hobbled. The jangling leg chains being a right nuissance. They had me stop in front of a metal door that separated the different sections of the wards. We walked through and again I had to wait until the door clanged shut behind me.

A guard gave me a push with his nightstick in the small of my back. “Move.” He said and I hobbled on. Halfway through the ward they had me stop and a cell door was opened.  I was ordered to go inside. The guard who had carried my stuff, pushed the bundle into my arms and I was unceremoniously shoved inside the cell.

He was sitting up in his bunk, the top bunk.  I threw my stuff and myself into the lower. Now I knew why the others had put me down as “Dead man walking”. I was sure they were making bets as to how soon I would die. However I was prepared to defy them.

I heard the thuds when he jumped down from above. And soon after his face popped up in front of mine. “Hi.” He said. “I'm Forsythe. You are Byrne, right?!” There was no need for me to answer so I just turned my back on him and pretended to fall asleep.

He must have been disappointed. I heard him sigh. The screeching of chair legs on concrete told me that he was sitting down at the table. This, his cell was extremely spacious. To me it seemed huge.

A clanging against the door announced that meals for us were delivered. “You better get up and eat before it gets cold and the roaches make a feast of it.” He said and chuckled.

I got up and sat down opposite. We ate without speaking a word. When he finished he sighed again. “You know,” he said, “I was hoping for a nice conversation. Been alone here for to long. But maybe that is the problem with you too?  Been to long in single confinement. Don't know how to make small talk any longer. Hm?” Made me wonder. What was I am doing here? Had he asked for me? Why?

I got up and cleaned my plate at the small washing basin. With my back turned I asked: “Did you asked for me to be brought here?” His chuckle was an answer at first. “Yes.” He said frankly and totally unashamed. “Yes. I asked for you especially.”

“Why?” I turned around facing him. “Why me?”

He smiled at me. He had the face of an angel and I wondered if his other cell mates had tried to use him. Was that the reason they had not survived the night?

“I wanted someone to talk to. Someone who is like me, condemned to stay here for the rest of his life. Someone who is my age or almost. Someone I can befriend, open myself to. Share my thoughts.”

That's what we did – share. And now he's sharing my cigy and my bunk.

Chapter 2: A week on

 

The Peacekeeper – A week on

Fandom: Crossover, Extremely Dangerous / Prison

Pairing: Neil Byrne / Charles Forsythe

Rating: PG-13 for language and hinted violence

Genre: Slash

Word Count: 1199

Disclaimer: Pure fiction. Non of the characters are mine. No copyright infringement intended.

A/N: AU, the story below has nothing in common with the two movies. I just needed to borrow the characters for my own mind child. 
Continues from “The Peacekeeper”. 

At first the guards stuck to their rule to send me out on my turns alone, just as I had to use the washing facilities alone. Only them peeping on me. However thanks to my fame they never dared to molest me. 

They were sticking to the procedure to cuff and chain me and then I had to hobble down all the way from top to ground floor on those bloody iron stairs. Making a hell of a ruckus as the chain would clang against the steps each time I got one foot down. 

All other inmates would press their faces to their doors hissing at me. I always had to grin. Had I not ruined their little betting game. I was sharing the cell with the “Peacekeeper” for one week now and still lived to see the day. Nobody of them had me in for an entire week so all their little bets had blown up into their faces now. I knew they hated me but at the same time feared me too.

When taking turns in the yard my mind started to wander back upstairs to Forsythe lately. Was he taken turns alone as well? Was he showering alone? Or had he to endure their remarks behind his back? I knew that nobody dared to molest him. Not after they had carried four dead men out of his cell after just one night in there.

They never could pin the death on him though and I wondered how he had done it. 

The gaffer must surely have ordered an autopsy on the corpses.

I only dared to ask once about the dead men. The nightstick hitting my kidneys prevented me from further questions. The 'pigeon post' had those guys down as trouble makers. Somehow the thought sprang to mind that they might have been killed by the guards themselves. 

Not to give them any ideas I kept my head down and Forsythe was a nice fellow enough. We had started to talk to each other. Little meaningless things. I knew he would enquire about the weather as soon as I came back from my turn. I started to watch out for little things. Shapes of clouds, passing birds, beetles who had been dropped into the yard either by birds or by the winds. 

I wasn't allowed to pick things up but could walk about freely as long as I didn't cross the line of the outer circle of my territory in the yard. So when a beetle was inside the circle I would stop and have a look at it. Remembering the colour and shape, the size of his antennas. Forsythe had a book on beetles. Would get it from the shelve and I had to point on the specimen on the picture. 

He then would start to tell me about the beetle. If it was harmless or poisonous. How it would live and mate. 

It was by the end of the first week that he sat down on my bunk for the first time. “Do you have a cigy for me?” asked he, “I will give one back as soon as my new supplies are here.” I knew he was expecting his visitor to come on Mondays.

So I nodded and held out my package. He took one but I nudged him to take another. I had received a parcel on the day before. An old friend was sending me my stuff once a month. As the friend was in the police force the parcel was hardly checked. 

Forsythe had no lighter so I got up and held out my cigy for him to light his. He smiled and as soon as his cigarette was lit returned mine. “Thanks.” He said after inhaling twice first. 

When the guards realised that I wasn't going to die they changed our routine. The governor came to our cell and told us that we were allowed to take turns together and shower together as well. We nodded both but kept quiet. As soon as all were gone Forsythe grinned. “About time.” He said. Made me grin too. We had to pee and shit in front of each other and wash at that shitty little basin. So why shouldn't we shower together once a week. 

However it felt strange going on turns with him for the first time. He walked in front I came next cuff and chained. The gaffer wasn't willing to take chances with me. The first three times the inmates stared at us with hate in their eyes. Forsythe didn't seemed to care and why would I? 

In the yard we were allowed to walk side by side. He had to slow down significantly not to run ahead. I only made small progress being chained up. However he didn't seemed to mind. We talked quietly whilst walking about. The guards were smoking cigarettes. It reminded me that I had brought my package as well. 

We stopped and he called out if we were allowed to smoke. The gaffer waved his hand as if to say 'don't bother me with your shite.' So we lit a cigy each.

It felt nice to have a mate to walk with. Even though I wasn't very talkative. I let him do the talking as so often. He seemed to like the arrangement. 

Within that first week I never had experienced him in distress. So what came next shocked me. 

It was a night of my second week in his cell. I woke up from shouting. I got up and he sat in his bunk shouting and throwing fists. I never had seen him this agitated. I was afraid that the ruckus he was making would draw the guards. So I started to talk to him in a soft voice. As I had done at home as a boy. The day I found the injured wildcat. She had hissed and tried to bite and scratch me at first. But I had talked to her and calmed her down. In the end she had allowed me to free her from the barbwire she had caught herself up in.

So I tried this voice on him too.

After a while he stopped fisting out and I climbed up to his bunk and sat beside him. He shook violently and I laid my arm around his shoulder to steady him. I feared he would fall from the bunk at first. He grew calmer and I realised that he wasn't awake at all. Forsythe was a frick'n sleepwalker or something like. He hadn't actually walked about. 

As soon as he had calmed sufficiently I made him lay down again and tucked him in. He suddenly looked like a frightened little boy and I don't know what came over me but I bent over him and kissed him on the forehead. “All is well. Sleep now.” I heard myself saying. Then I climbed down and went back into my bunk.

A minute later he was down, crawling in with me, cuddling close. At first I was thunderstruck, didn't move a limb. He placed his head on my shoulder and was asleep instantaneously. 

 

Chapter 3: Christmas

The Peacekeeper – Christmas

Fandom: Crossover, Extremely Dangerous / Prison

Pairing: Neil Byrne / Charles Forsythe

Rating: PG

Genre: Slash

Word Count: 1518

Disclaimer: Pure fiction. Non of the characters are mine. No copyright infringement intended.

A/N: AU, the story below has nothing in common with the two movies. I just needed to borrow the characters for my own mind child. 
Continues from “The Peacekeeper” and “The Peacekeeper - A week on”.

The winter holidays drew near and the governor told Charles and me that we were to attend the mass and the festive dinner in the canteen with all the other inmates.

Charles and I were discussing the prospects during our tour in the prison yard. The temperatures had dropped significantly and no bug were found. So we busied ourselves with chatting whilst walking briskly to keep ourselves warm.

Charles had spoken to the gaffer who had asked the governor if I could be spared the cuffing and the chaining. It had been agreed that in the yard the cuffs and chains would be taken off. But within the block from cell to yard and vice versa I had to wear them. At least it meant a slight improvement and so I wasn't complaining.

So Charles and I had picked up jogging in the yard all around in circles. Not much worse than doing it on a treadmill. After a short while Charles suggested that we should keep in form and we did all kinds of exercises. At first the guards had been bewildered and asked us to return to our walking routine. But again the gaffer and the governor saw no harm in us keeping fit and healthy and so we were allowed to continue. I assumed that it was mainly down to Charles and his function as the “Peacekeeper” that all these allowances were made.

I wasn't allowed to use the library but Charles managed to “smuggle” out books for me. The prison's librarian had been astonished in the beginning when Charles reading habit seemed to have changed so much. Charles had a three book each visit allowance. And of the three books one was for me. He was a much faster reader than I. So he easily finished his books in the same amount of time. 

Once each month Charles was allowed to hand in a special book order which were brought in from a library outside the facility. 

He would bring a list with available volumes to our cell and we were studying, discussing the titles. Again he would take two for himself whilst the third book was my choice. We made it a habit to discuss what we had read. In most cases he knew the books I had read. When it came to his books he was trying to explain to me what the topic had been about, why he had chosen it and if the book had lived up to his expectations or not and why.

But when the message came that we were to join in to the Christmas celebrations with all the others I was slightly worried. However not to spoil it for Charles I kept my worries to myself. 

In the end it turned out that it wasn't that this reason for worry was replace by a much more serious. For a few days before the Christmas Charles fell ill with a fever. Over night it grew worse and I had to clang the bars to make the guards aware. The doctor was called and he left me with medication for Charles, who was to weak to be moved.

Fearful that the tossing and turning Charles would fall from the top bunk I took him in my arms and brought him down to lay him in my own. His body felt very hot to the touch and I spoon fed him some soup the guards had brought for him before giving him his first dose of the medicine.

Early next morning the governor came to check on him but Charley's situation had not improved so we were excused from the festivities. I was told to make the guard aware if the situation grew worse. 

I hadn't prayed in a long time but there and then I spoke a silent prayer asking god to spare Charley. I don't know what I feared most. That the syndicate thought that it had been my fault if he died or would start their war. So when he shivered with cold I crawled under the blanket to bunk with him, warming him. When his body seemed to burn up I cooled him with a cold wash. In between I was feeding him with food and medicine. Concentrating so much on him that I almost forgot that I too needed to eat.

I got his mattress and beddings down as I had to change it every two hours due to him sweating through the stuff. I had asked to guards to take the beddings out to air and dry them but they soon got tired with the to and fro. So they provided me with a cord which I used for the drying and airing. They also brought me a 'wagon load' of tins with chicken soup and a little stove. The doctor came for a check on the patient and declared our cell a quarantine zone. So we weren't allowed any visitors. The guard who had spend the night duty on our floor was quarantined too. His curses flew thick and fast and I could hear them through the metal door.

The doctor obviously had been complaining about the cold in our cell. We were staying right under the roof so in winter our cell was freezing and in summer we were scorched with heat. The doctor must have threatened the governor with reporting the appalling conditions we were living in. For a few hours later an oven/air-condition was brought up, installed and switched on. The cell soon filled up with nice warm air. However Charles riddled with fever was clattering his teeth as he was in one of his freezing spells again. I gathered all dry blankets we had and tucked him up properly. Then I turned to prepare another can of soup and some tea.

I almost cracked when I heard his weak and feeble voice. “Neil? Neil.” I turned around and sat on the bed. I dabbed his brow with a soft cloth and smiled. “I'm here, Charley. I'm here. I take care of you. You'll be better soon, you'll see.” I tried to sound as convincing as possible and hide the fears I felt. His eyelids fluttered as he closed them again. I propped him up in my arms and popped some of the pills the doctor had given me for him into his mouth. I then reached for the glass of water to help him wash them down. He swallowed all but then had to cough. I held him still his back against my chest until the coughing fit was over. “I'm preparing some soup for you.” I said and carefully laid him back onto the flat pillow. He tried to smile. “Rest! I shall wake you when the soup is ready for you.” He nodded slowly and closed his eyes again.

That night was the first time since he had fallen ill that I slept. I had crawled into the bunk with him and held him close. The next morning I felt a little stiff but he seemed to be better. His fever had broken and he felt no longer so hot to the touch. He was still asleep when I peeled myself out of the bunk. It was Christmas Day and I had forgotten all about it. The doctor knocked early and with him was our guard.

He nodded satisfied and congratulated me on my good job. He said I had saved my fellow prisoner's life. He left with some more medication and said he would return after the holidays in the new year.

The guard let him out only to return to our cell shortly after. He held four parcels in his arms and dumped them on our table. He nodded and mumbled something like “Merry Christmas” before he left. I heard the lock of the barred door to our floor rattle and clang as it fell shut again. We were alone on the floor.

I took the parcels and placed them in the unused top bunk. Then I turned to prepare breakfast when I heard Charles stirring in the bed. I just came in time to stop him from getting up. “Hey! What do you think you're doin? Back to bed. You are still to weak to get up. Wait I'll prop you up.” I stacked the pillows, his and mine behind his back and then wrapped him thoroughly into the blanket again. 

Back I went to fill our tin plates with the breakfast I had prepared and we sat side by side in my bunk, munching away in silence. I glanced at him for a while, glad to see how he finished his plate with his new found appetite. It had been a while that he had eaten proper. Only a few sips of soup or tea that had been all over the last days, weeks rather. His cheeks looked hollow from the strain the illness had put on him. But the greyness of his face was gone. It slowly turned into his normal colour again.

 

Chapter 4: Boxing Day

The Peacekeeper – Boxing Day

Fandom: Crossover, Extremely Dangerous / Prison

Pairing: Neil Byrne / Charles Forsythe

Rating: PG

Genre: Slash

Word Count: 1271

Disclaimer: Pure fiction. Non of the characters are mine. No copyright infringement intended.

A/N: AU, the story below has nothing in common with the two movies. I just needed to borrow the characters for my own mind child. 

Continues from “The Peacekeeper”, “The Peacekeeper - A week on” and

“ The Peacekeeper -  Christmas "

 

Christmas Day was very peaceful. Non of the guards returned for the day. Charles staid in bed and I got the presents from the upper bunk.

Three were for him, one for me. Mine contained the usual cigarettes, chocolate bars, some gardening magazines and as an addition for Christmas a cake. The addressee was the usual as well the former colleague of mine. However the parcels might come with regularity each month but there was never a letter or note as well as my colleague never visited me.

Charles had a box of each syndicate delivered by the lawyer which was his regular visitor. The third box was of the Salvation Army. The first of the two boxed sent by the lawyer contained the usual stuff. Cigarettes, chocolates, two books on art and poetry, a package of milk powder, sugar and coffee. The second box held a scarf and mittens, two packages of tea and a mug to go with and a large tin with shortbread.

Last not least the Salvation army box was filled with a package of hot chocolate powder, a selection of chocolate biscuits, a bible and a jar of marmalade and honey each.

We were still sitting on the bunk rummaging through the boxes when suddenly the outer doors clattered again and soon after the keys in our door went. In the door stood the gaffer with another package in his arm. He dropped it into my arms and then asked about Charles's health. He seemed pleased to hear and see for himself that the patient was on the mend. He told me that we were allowed to roam free on our floor. As he went he left the door to our cell open but locked the barred door to the staircase.

During the Christmas holidays staff had been reduced, so if we needed something I was to shout.

The new box was quite heavy and I was glad to drop it onto the table. Charles was curious too and he had moved forward sitting now on the edge of the bed.

“To whom is it addressed?” asked he impatiently. I checked but there was nothing written on the box and no post stamp either. “Weird!” With the handle of my spoon I cut through the Sellotape. The box was filled with tins of baked beans, corned beef, sweet corn and sweet custard as well as several packages of pumpernickel bread, a small pot of margarine and one of spreadable cheese. We looked at each other grinning. This was our Christmas dinner saved. I rolled up my sleeves and started cooking.

Charles was reading poems to me whilst I was pulling the rings of the tins and poured the contents into the soup pan to heat everything up on the stove.

“So Charley, what you say?! First course chicken-sweetcorn soup. Second course pumpernickel with beans and corned beef topping. And for dessert: shortbread custard with chocolate crumble.” Charles hummed and rubbed his very flat tummy, signalling his delight.

I helped Charles over to the table and wrapped him up in blankets there on the chair. He had to promise me to lay down again as soon as we had finished our Christmas meal. I was cautious and therefore gave him only a small portion. But he finished everything off and even asked for a second helping.

In the end with his plate as clean as mine he had eaten a portion as large as I had had.

I then helped him back to bed and he gladly went. His temperature had increased slightly again. He took his medication like a good boy and then tried to get some sleep. Meanwhile I clinked and clanged with the dishes in our small washing basin. When I had finished and them stowed away, he called out for me. “Neil! Neil, may I ask you for one more favour?” 

He needed to relief himself but was to weak to walk over to the WC. Of course I helped him, supported him walking over. I then turned around whilst he was sitting down to pee. He didn't dare to do it standing up with his legs still wobbly.

As soon as the noise of water stopped I asked if he had finished.

I walked him back to the bed and tucked him in. As soon as Charles was in bed I undressed myself and climbed in with him. 

He immediately snuggled up against me and I put my arm around him. His head rested on my chest. He then grew heavy in my arms as he fell asleep and I followed him soon after into slumberland.

The next morning I was woken by Charles trying to climb over me. “What are you doing?” asked I rubbing the sleep out of my eyes as he swung his left leg to follow his right outside the bunk. “Pee.” Replied he and holding on to the bed frame slowly mad his way to the loo. I watched as he grabbed for hold, the table, the wall, the washing basin and finally the WC.

I was ready to jump to his assistance if he needed me. But no matter how slowly he made it back to bed. He scrambled back in and smiled at me despite his clearly visible exhaustion. 

It was my turn on the pot and to wash. This done I started preparing breakfast. When I turned back to the bunk he was fast asleep again. So I put his plate for keep on the warm-up just to decide that I would wait with mine as well. So it was just some coffee for me to go with one of the garden magazines.

An hour later he woke with a startle and almost crashed his head on the frame of the top bunk. “Easy. Easy.” I said and stepped over hand outstretched to help him up.

“I'm hungry.” He said and I nodded. “Me too. I waited for you to wake.” He blushed and looked a little bit guilty but I laughed it away and he soon fell in.

The breakfast wasn't much anyway some left overs from the evenings feast but we both ate with good appetite. He still had to take his medication and wore out easily. So we picked up a noon-nap routine to which he only agreed after I had given in and promised to join him. So after lunch be both snuggled up in the bunk again. 

That afternoon he felt a little weary and I decided that he should try a little walk about. Hooked into my arm we marched along the corridor to the corner. There he had to rest and we leaned on the balustrade and looked down to the floors below ours, watching our inmates playing board games, reading or just being lazy.

After a while he said, “Let's go back. I am a bit peckish and tired as well.” So we slowly progressed back to our cell.

Our little excursion hadn't gone unnoticed and before vanishing inside our cell I could see guys crowding, sticking their heads together, motioning in our direction. Of course everyone had heard of him being ill and the quarantine the doctor had put us under had been announced to prevent the illness from spreading. Seeing him on his feet seemed to have a calming effect on the guys. Of course I was well aware that there were quite many of them belong to either the one or the other syndicate. So he or rather we were under close observation.

Chapter 5: Year's End

 

The Peacekeeper – Year's End

Fandom: Crossover, Extremely Dangerous / Prison

Pairing: Neil Byrne / Charles Forsythe

Rating: PG

Genre: Slash

Word Count: 618

Disclaimer: Pure fiction. Non of the characters are mine. No copyright infringement intended.

A/N: AU, the story below has nothing in common with the two movies. I just needed to borrow the characters for my own mind child. 

Continues from “The Peacekeeper”, “The Peacekeeper - A week on” ,

“The Peacekeeper - Christmas” and “The Peacekeeper -  Boxing Day "

After Boxing Day was over Charles was called out to receive his visitor.  He come back wearing a frown and was unusual quiet. 

The great surprise came when the following day I was called out to have a visitor waiting. 

When I came down into the visitors area, I was led into the cabin a guy in a dark suit was waiting for me. The guard pushed a business card into my hand before locking the door behind me. 

The suit-guy already held the phone receiver to his ear in anticipation. He signalled me to pick-up the same device at my end. I was still studying the business card and at the same time tried to sit down. I almost sat down missing the chair in the process. 

The guy was impatiently tapping the glass window and I finally managed to sit down on the chair and pick up that phone receiver. The guy was that lawyer who came to visit Charles regularly. I apologised for my clumsiness, explaining that he was the first visitor since my imprisonment.

His left eyebrow shot up. But then he nodded understandingly.

The first thing I heard of him was a “Thank you” to have cared for Charles and for pampering him back to health. I waved it away as “Nothing to thank for”. Charles and I were more htan cell mates, we were friends and that was what friends were for, I told the man.  He only nodded and said the syndicates had prepared a box for me. But they liked to make it more personal. He therefore wanted to know what I wanted them to put inside. 

I told him that I needn't anything at all but the fellow insisted. So pressed I couldn't think of anything really. In the end I settled for a basket of fresh fruit which I knew Charles would love to have his share.

So it was agreed that by the end of the week I should look out for it. Came Saturday and not only a box but also the fruit basket was delivered to our cell.

As anticipated Charles enjoyed the fresh fruit very much which we shared in equal parts. But something had changed.

After every visit of the lawyer to Charles he returned to our cell distressed, angry even. 

By end of January he told me that he had asked the lawyer to visit him only once a month. His wish was granted. Our life ran in it's normal routine again, apart from that day once a month when he would return from the visiting room.

End of February he returned form this visit so infuriated that I hardly could calm him down enough to make him speak and confess what was upsetting him so. It took him long to be able to tell me.

What he had to say came as a shock. By end of March he was to be transferred to a different facility.

The syndicates feared that we had become to close, to close for comfort. They wanted to separate us.

I was to be transferred as well. They wanted to make sure and had planned to put an entire country between us.

He to the South, I to the North. That was the plan and everything had already been agreed to.

Now I sat in this train transporting me miles and miles away from him. 

I was undecided.

All I knew was that I might never see him again.

It hurt. Hurt like hell.

One thing I was sure of …

It was the only thought filling my mind.

So when I jumped off that train, I knew.

I would not let them win.

THE END