Marrow

Marrow. Part Seven.
By BrightEyes
Fandom: Oz/Law and Order: SVU/X-Men. Spoilers through season four of Oz.
Summary: Two new inmates at the Oswald State Penitentiary cause scandal and angst inside and outside the walls.
Warnings: Slash (m/m), Angst, Underage Character Sex, Descriptions of Abuse, Issues of Consent:
non-con and rape, Violence, Adult Language and Situations.
Disclaimer: The characters don’t belong to me. Oz belongs to Tom Fontana, X-Men to Marvel, SVU
to Dick Wolf. I’m not making money. Don’t sue me, please. This is fantasy adult fiction: rape and
sex with minors is NOT OKAY in the real world, got it?
Feedback: Please. To brighteyedjill@yahoo.com.


PART SEVEN

184th Street, Queens

“Why are murders always on Saturday nights? Why can’t they ever take place on
Tuesday afternoons?” asked Munch as he and Stabler mounted the stairs of the crummy
apartment building Cragen had called them to.

“Guess they just want to get you out of church on Sunday morning, John,” Stabler
quipped. “What number?”

“Six seventeen,” Munch read off his notebook. He opened the door to the sixth
floor. “Or just follow the uniforms.”

The two detectives threaded their way through the jumble of police and CSI techs
outside their destination. Fin, standing by the bed, gave the two a nod as they walked into
the tiny apartment.

“Morning,” said Benson, pressing a cup of coffee into Stabler’s hand. “Glad you
two could join us.”

“What have we got?” asked Munch, holding out his hand for coffee. Benson
ignored him.

“Single rape/homicide,” said Fin, gesturing to the woman tied to the bed.

“Tell me those cuts are post-mortem,” Stabler said as he got close enough to see
the victim. Her face and body were marred with deep, jagged wounds.

“Too much blood,” said Fin, pointing to the stained sheets. “Perp cut her while
she was still alive.”

“Neighbors didn’t hear screaming?” Munch asked.

“Not that they reported,” said Benson.

Stabler edged around the room to stand by the foot of the bed. “Then how’d they
shut her up while they did all this?”

“Maybe they put her out first,” suggested Munch.

Fin shook his head. “Then why the rape and mutilation? If it’s about revenge, then
the perp would want her awake.”

“What makes you think it’s about revenge?” asked Stabler.

“Well, the perp wanted to send some kind of message.” Benson pointed in the
direction of the body. “Cut her mouth and stabbed her in the eyes. And all these smaller
cuts. Don’t usually see this much overkill unless the perp knew the vic.”

“If they did know each other, I’m guessing that someone’s seriously pissed off,”
said Munch.

“So what do we know about her?” Stabler turned away from the body and began
prowling the room.

“Neighbor found her this morning,” Benson read from her notes. “Perp left the
door open. Name is Tae Finnessey, twenty-five, lived here ten months, works at a place
called The Candlewood Inn, over on College Point.”

“That’s a strip joint,” said Fin. Stabler and Munch gave him a look. “Don’t look at
me like that,” he said with a shrug. “I just know shit.”

“None of the neighbors claimed to know her very well,” Benson continued.

“Where’s the baby?” Stabler asked suddenly.

“What?” Fin gave him a look.

“Crib, toys, kid-sized shoes,” explained Stabler. “No kid.”

“Kidnapping? Custody dispute?” Benson suggested. “That would jive with our
perp-knows-the-vic theory.” She turned to a uniformed cop standing in the doorway.
“Could you please go back to the super, ask if she knows anything about a child living
here?

“Sure thing,” said the officer.

“Detectives, there’s a woman outside who wants to talk to you,” said another
uniform, poking her head into the apartment.

“I got it,” said Benson. She slid past the officers in the doorway and ventured into
the narrow hallway. An older woman stood a little ways down the hall, holding a little
girl by the hand. “I’m Detective Benson,” she said as she approached. “You wanted to
talk to me?”

The woman nodded anxiously. “Can you tell me what’s happened? I mean, I
know the woman that lives in this apartment, Tae Finnessey. I came by to drop off her
niece. Where is she?”

“Are you family?” asked Benson.

“No, just a friend. My name’s Mindy Sabin. I watch Becca sometimes,” said the
woman, gesturing towards the little girl, who was staring up at Benson, wide-eyed.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” Benson began gently. “But something’s
happened to Ms. Finnessey. She’s… She passed away last night.”

Mindy looked down at the little girl, who was still staring at Benson. “Oh,” she
said weakly. “That’s… Oh.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. Would it be possible for me to ask you a few questions?
We’re trying to work out exactly what happened.”

“Yes, of course.”

“First of all, is there anyone we can call? Parents, relative?”

The woman shook her head. “Just her brother, but he’s…” She looked down at
Becca. “Honey, could you… Go sit over there?” She pointed to a chair by the elevator.
Without a word, the little girl let go of her hand and trotted off down the hall. “Tae’s
brother, that’s Becca’s father. He’s in prison, so Tae is—was her guardian. She doesn’t
have any other family.”

“I see,” said Benson, jotting it down on her notepad. “Ms. Sabin, Tae Finnessey
was murdered.” She gave the woman a moment to digest that fact. “Do you know if Ms.
Finnessey had any enemies? Anyone threatening her?”

“Nothing like that,” said Mindy. “She kept mostly to herself. Not a lot of friends.
She did have some boyfriend, though. That’s why Becca stayed with me overnight last
night.”

“Do you know who he was?”

“I’m not sure. I never met him.”

“All right. Have you noticed anything strange lately with Ms. Finnessey? Change
in her behavior, suspicious circumstances, anything like that?” asked Benson. “Even
something that seems insignificant might be helpful.”

Mindy thought for a moment. “A couple weeks back she met with some people
I’d never seen before. This was in the diner where I work. It seemed like they were
having a pretty intense conversation. Tae certainly left in a hurry. Didn’t even finish her
lunch. She always eats her lunch.”

“Do you know who these people were?”

“Never seen them before. Man and a woman. Pretty redhead. And the man kept
his sunglasses on inside. I don’t know what they were talking about, but it takes a lot to
upset Tae. She’s very tough,” said Mindy with a small smile.

“All right,” said Benson. “Here’s my card. Please call me if you think of
something else. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Mindy shook her head. “I don’t know how you could help… Becca. What should
I do with her?”

Benson sighed. “If you’d like, we can take her to Child Protection Services.
You’re sure there’s no other family?”

“No,” said Mindy firmly. “If Becca had had other family, she wouldn’t have been
staying with Tae.”
*********

Oz: The Gym

Liam Meaney grunted as he set down a weight. “Hey, Timmy. Did you hear that
shit about Finnessey?”

Timmy Kirk dropped from the pull-up bar. “Nu-uh. What?”

“His sister got whacked,” said Meaney, picking up another weight.

Kirk laughed meanly. “Damn. Well, she was probably a fucking mutie too, so no
loss there.”

“What compassionate guys,” muttered Beecher to Keller as they wrestled on the
other side of the gym. “Sucks for Finnessey.”

“Yeah,” Keller grunted as he pinned Beecher. “And if you kept your head in the
match instead of eavesdropping on Irish punks, I wouldn’t beat you every time, Toby.”

Beecher shoved Keller off of him and sat up. “Yes you would.”

Landry slunk into the gym, passing the Italians and the Irish and installing himself
in the corner by the speed bag. After a surreptitious look around, he began punching,
turning his back to the room.

Meaney nodded to Kirk, and the two sauntered over to the newcomer. “Praaaag,”
Meaney crooned with more than a touch of menace.

Without breaking the rhythm of his punches, Landry threw a short “What?” over
his shoulder.

Kirk and Meaney exchanged smiles. “We’ve got a message for you from Ryan
O’Reilly.”

Across the gym, Beecher saw the two Irish moving in on Landry. “Get off,” he
said, pushing Keller, who was close to pinning him again.

“No,” said Keller, grabbing Toby’s wrist out from under him and twisting him
onto his back.

“Chris, get off,” said Beecher. “Now.” Keller let go of him and Beecher
sprung to his feet. He strode across the gym in Landry’s direction.

“Did you really think you could mess with Ryan and get away with it?” Kirk
asked Landry, moving in closer. “He warned you to stay away from Cyril.”

Meaney reached into his back pocket. Landry took a step back, pressing himself
against the wall.

“Hey Meaney.”

The burly Irishman whirled around to see Tobias Beecher standing a few feet
away, smiling benignly. “Get lost Beecher. This is none of your business.”

“Probably,” said Beecher, moving to stand between Meaney and Landry. “But
that usually doesn’t stop me.”

“Seriously, Beecher,” said Kirk. “I think you want to get out of the way. This isn’t
your problem.”

Beecher’s smile stretched into a grin. “I’ve been friends with Ryan O’Reilly for
years, boys. I don’t think he’d like it if we got into a fight.”

Meaney scowled. “Listen, Beech. Ryan asked us to take care of this for him, so
butt out.”

“No,” said Beecher simply.

Meaney took a menacing step in Beecher’s direction. “What, you think I won’t go
through you?”

Keller placed a hand on Meaney’s shoulder from behind him. “No, I think you
won’t. Now fuck off.”

Meaney looked from Keller to Beecher back to Keller, then took a step away.
“Fine.” He turned to Landry. “But this isn’t over, prag.” He nodded to Kirk, and the two
stalked out of the gym. Keller followed them to the door.

Beecher turned to Landry. “Are you okay?”

Landry stared at the floor. “Sure.” Beecher nodded and started to walk away.
Landry took a few steps after him and grabbed his hand. “Hey, Beecher.”

Beecher stopped. “Yeah?”

“Thanks,” said Landry with a slight blush. He looked up to meet Beecher’s eyes.
“Thank you. If there’s something I can do for you…” He trailed off, looking at the floor
again.

Beecher couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry. “Just stay alive until Ryan gets
out of the Hole, okay kid?” he said, and went after Keller.

*********

Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters

Jean sat down heavily on a sofa by the window. “I did this.”

“No you didn’t,” Scott said. He sat beside her and gently took her hand.

“It’s my fault. I put her in danger” said Jean, covering her face with her hands.

“No,” said Scott. “You didn’t kill Tae Finnessey.” He squeezed her hand. “She
knew what she was getting into.”

Jean pulled away. “Did she? I should have warned her. I should have told her to
be careful. I should have-.”

Scott pulled his girlfriend into a fierce hug. “Shh. Jean, no. There’s nothing you
could have done. Shh.” Jean relaxed into his arms, laying her head against his shoulder
for a moment. Then she sat up.

“I have to get back to work.”

“Jean, it will wait.”

“No.” She shook her head emphatically. “I want to get back to it. I need to be
doing something.” Jean stood up quickly and moved over to her desk, where she began to
move papers around frantically, adding things to stacks and pulling things out of files.

Scott followed her. “Jean, do you want me--.”

“I’m fine, Scott,” she interrupted. She paused for a moment and met his eyes. “I
just need to… I’m okay.”

Scott gave her a reluctant nod and left her office, shutting the door gently behind
him. He took off down the hall, and knocked on Professor Xavier’s door.

“Come in,” came the professor’s voice, and Scott did so.

“How is she?” asked Xavier, putting aside his book.

Scott shook his head. “She’s upset. She wanted to keep busy.” He sat down across
the desk from his mentor. “She feels responsible.”

“I trust you explained to her that she’s not, that she couldn’t be.”

“Of course. She just has to believe it, Professor.”

Xavier nodded. “This is certainly a setback for our work on the lawsuit.”

“Are you sure this murder had something to do with the lawsuit?” Scott asked,
leaning forward earnestly. “I just mean that not many people know about the lawsuit in
the first place. And hardly anyone knew that Tae was planning to testify.”

“That’s right,” the professor mused. “But just the same, we should warn anyone
else Jean has talked to. The other witnesses might be in danger as well.”
*********

Oz: Post Office

“Hey. Doctor Nathan wants this express mailed.” Landry held up a manila
envelope.

Adler reached across the counter and took it with a lascivious smile. “Sure,
honey.” Landry turned to go. “Wait up a sec,” said Adler. “You weren’t going to go
without seeing old Vern, are you?” Landry stopped and shook his head. “Just wait here.”

In a moment, Adler was back with a grinning Schillinger. “Cover for me,”
Schillinger said to his crony. “Ben, come.”

Schillinger swaggered towards an unoccupied storage room, letting Landry follow
him like a well-trained pet. Once they were inside, Schillinger shut the door behind him
and turned his cold gaze onto his prag. “Adler said you were going to leave without
seeing me.”

Landry stared at his feet.

“That hurts my feelings, Benny Boy.” Schillinger crossed his arms over his chest.
“I might start to think you don’t love me anymore.”

“I do love you, sir” said Landry quickly.

“Show me.”

Landry pulled his sweatshirt over his head, then his t-shirt, and stripped off shoes,
socks, pants, and boxers to stand naked before Schillinger. He dropped to his knees and
set to work unbuckling Schillinger’s belt. He unzipped his master’s pants, pulled down
his boxers, and lifted out the swelling cock inside. Before he could open his mouth to
begin, Schillinger grabbed a handful of Landry’s hair. “I’ve got an idea, sugar. I want you
to show me what you did with Cyril.” Landry stared up at him. “Yeah, that’ll be fun. Go
on.”

“Okay,” said Landry with a slight tremble in his voice. “We need to… Will you
lie down?”

Schillinger smiled obligingly and settled onto the floor. Landry moved between
his legs and leaned down to start a blow job. Schillinger grabbed him by the hair again.
“Wait, Benny. I know you didn’t just jump old Cyril’s bones. So do this right. What did
you say? How’d you get him to fuck you?”

Landry took a few deep, shuddering breaths. “I said… I want to give you a gift. I
promise you’re going to like it.”

“That’s it, sugar,” said Schillinger, leaning back. “Go on.”

“Okay,” said Landry. “Okay.” He covered Schillinger’s cock with his mouth,
careful to pull his lips over his teeth. Wrapping one hand around the base of his master’s
erection, he began to suck gently, taking more of Schillinger’s length into his throat with
every bob of his head.

“Atta boy,” crooned Schillinger. He reached down to grab a handful of Landry’s
hair. “I bet that retard hadn’t ever been sucked like this.”

Landry felt his stomach lurch. Carefully he pulled away from Schillinger and
repositioned himself, straddling his hips. With one hand, Schillinger grabbed his hard-on,
positioning it under Landry’s ass. With the other hand, Schillinger gripped Landry’s
shoulder, pressing him down hard, causing the smaller man to gasp as he was impaled.

“You like that, huh?” Schillinger asked cruelly. Landry threw his head back,
biting back a cry of pain as Schillinger pushed him down all the way. Yes, he’s
certainly pretty when he’s in pain, Schillinger thought with a smile.

Landry took a deep breath and reached forward, beckoning to Schillinger to
change position. As Schillinger sat up, Landry wrapped his legs around the other man’s
waist and lowered his shoulders to the floor, leaving the other man on top. Schillinger
braced his hands on either side of his prag and smiled. “All right, sugar. Now ask me
nicely.”

Landry stared off to the side. “Please, sir, fuck me.”

Schillinger grabbed Landry’s chin and wrenched his head around to face him.
“With enthusiasm, prag. I’m starting to think maybe you prefer Cyril. Is that it?”

Landry’s eyes lit up with panic. “No, sir.” He wrapped his hands around
Schillinger’s back and looked directly into his master’s eyes. “Please, sir, fuck me in the
ass. Please.”

“There’s my boy,” said Schillinger. He pulled his hips back and thrust hard into
Landry, causing the younger man’s head to snap back in reaction, cracking painfully
against the cement. Schillinger pistoned into the man below him, thrusting as hard as he
could, fucking him into the floor. Landry gave a small cry with each push, squeezing
Schillinger tighter with his legs. “Was that retard as good as me? Was he? Did you like it,
prag?” Schillinger hissed in his ear.

“No, sir,” Landry gasped as Schillinger pounded into him. “No!”

“Are you getting attached to the little Irish retard? Huh?” Schillinger wrapped his
hands around Landry’s throat. “Maybe it’s time to get rid of him, then.” Landry
struggled, weakly trying to pry Schillinger’s hands away. “Or maybe it’s time to get rid
of you.” Landry gasped for air, and his muscles convulsed spasmodically. He bucked
against Schillinger, who released his hands just as he came deep inside his struggling
prag.

Schillinger laughed as he stood up. “That was real sweet, sugar.” He tucked his
dick back into his pants. “Really. We’ll have to do it again sometime. Keep up the good
work.” He stalked out of the closet, leaving Landry lying naked on the floor, breathing in
great gulps of air.
**********

SVU Squad Room, New York City

“I’ve got some good news, people,” said Cragen as he exited his office. “Alex just
called. We’ve indicted Remy Castille.”

“Thank God,” said Benson emphatically. “How’s the case look?”

“Not bad. Alex thinks that she can make him an accomplice. And she’s talking to
the New Orleans DA about bringing him up there on similar charges. It will help our case
here if we can prove there’s a pattern,” Cragen explained.

“Well that’s great,” said Fin with a glance at Benson.

“Yeah. Great. So we can get him on this instead of a child molestation charge,”
Munch muttered.

Stabler shot him an irritated glare. “It’s better than nothing.”

“Well, when you put it that way it seems so just,” replied Munch.

Cragen interrupted them. “Now, how are we doing on the Finnessey case?”

“I think I have a name on the boyfriend,” said Fin, and held up a piece of paper.
“There’s only one guy whose name is on caller ID numerous times and programmed into
her cell phone: a Tim McManus.”

“Tim McManus? As in… Do you have a picture?” Benson asked

“Actually, I do,” said Fin. “He was already in the system. Works for the
Department of Corrections.” He opened a file on his computer. Benson came over to look
at the image, and shook her head.

“Well I’ll be damned,” she said. “I knew that name sounded familiar.”

“Why? Old boyfriend?” asked Munch.

“Hardly. He’s an assistant warden at Oz. I haven’t met him, but I’ve heard about
him.”

“Well now he’s a suspect,” said Stabler. “Did you want to interview him?”

Benson sighed. “Sure. Let’s bring him in.”
************

Oz: Em City

The lights went out in Em City, leaving the pods in bluish near-darkness. Landry
lay awake, and made himself count to ten. Before he reached eight, Cyril spoke. “You
awake, Benjamin?”

Landry leaned over the edge of his bunk. “Yeah.”

“Wanna come down?” Cyril asked shyly.

“Yeah.” Landry deftly slid off his bunk and crawled into bed with Cyril. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Landry snuggled close, resting his head on his pod-mate’s chest. “I miss you
during the day, you know. When I can’t see you.” He ran a hand through Cyril’s hair. “I
want to be near you all the time.”

Cyril sighed contentedly. “I like the way you smell. And it rubs off on your
pillow, so your bunk smells like you even when you’re not there.”

Landry lifted his head up, listening. “Hold on,” he said, and pushed himself out of
bed. When the hack walked by, he was taking a leak. Nothing suspicious at all. When the
CO had passed, he paused to strip off his sweatshirt and boxers before climbing back into
bed with Cyril.

Landry leaned in close to capture Cyril’s mouth with his own, tongue slipping
gently inside to battle with Cyril’s. Landry ran a practiced hand down the length of
Cyril’s body, under his boxers to grasp the bigger man’s cock, which was already hard
and weeping. Landry gave a small, delighted laugh and broke the kiss. “You’re ready for
this tonight, aren’t you?”

Cyril smiled a bit self-consciously. “I love you,” he said simply.

Landry responded with another kiss, closing his eyes against the sight of Cyril’s
earnest, open face. Deepening their kiss, Cyril tangled his fingers in Landry’s hair: his
touch so different from the violent, careless touch of Schillinger. Landry worked his hand
up and down Cyril’s length, pulling gently and eliciting tiny moans from the other man.

“Please,” Cyril gasped into Landry’s mouth. “Please, let me… Please…”

“Here,” whispered Landry. He turned over and lifted himself onto all fours,
presenting his ass to Cyril. Cyril moved to his knees behind Landry, and softly ran his
hand over the man’s back, reveling in the smoothness of the skin. He stopped when he
reached the base of Landry’s spine, where a black tattoo marred the pale expanse of flesh.
The swastika.

Suddenly a burst of memory flashed in Cyril’s mind: Schillinger’s laughter,
his hands pulling Cyril’s hair; pain, concrete biting into his knees; so scared it was hard
to breathe, and wondering where Ryan was; Schillinger’s chest, maggot-white, and an
eagle holding the swastika.

“No!” Cyril screamed, pushing Landry away even as he stood and rushed to the
toilet to be violently, thoroughly sick. A surprised Landry picked himself up off the floor
and followed his pod-mate. Cyril felt gentle hands gather his hair and hold it back as he
brought up the remains of his dinner. He knelt there for a moment until he was sure it was
over.

Landry stroked his back gently. “Shh. It’s okay, Cyr. I’m here.” Cyril stood
abruptly and, with a savage push, sent Landry sprawling, naked, to the floor.

A hack—it was Emerson—pounded on the glass wall of the pod and blinded Cyril
with his flashlight. “Break it up, ladies,” he said. Cyril quickly retreated to his bed,
pulling a sheet up to his chin and turning his face to the wall.

“You okay?” Emerson asked Landry, who was still on the floor. Landry looked
over his shoulder at the CO and nodded. With a glare and a shrug, Emerson walked away.

Landry waited until the flashlight beam moved back in the direction of the guard
post, then crawled over to the bottom bunk. He reached out slowly and shook Cyril by the
shoulder. “Leave me alone,” Cyril snapped without turning. Landry could see his body
shake rhythmically with silent crying.

Landry took his hand away. “What happened?” he asked softly. “Did I do
something wrong?”

“Leave me alone,” said Cyril, and pulled his sheet up over his head.

From across the quad, Schillinger watched his prag climb into bed alone, and
frowned.
***********

Oz: Warden’s Office

Dr. Jean Grey drummed her fingers on her knee, nervously. Glynn’s secretary had
said he’d be back in just a moment. “Something come up that needed his attention,” she’d
said with a knowing smile. “That happens, sometimes.” It had been half an hour. Not
that I’m complaining, she reflected. Last time he didn’t want to see me. Now I’m
dreading having to talk to him. Ahh, how things change.

Jean gave a start as the door opened and Glynn burst in, trailed by Tim McManus
and an older woman Jean didn’t know. The warden stopped short when he saw her.
“Damn. I forgot you were waiting,” he said. He retreated behind his desk and collapsed
into his chair, gesturing for the other two to take a seat.

“Dr. Grey,” nodded McManus.

“Mr. McManus,” said Jean politely.

“Oh you’re Dr. Grey,” said the grey-haired woman. “I’m Sister Peter Marie.”

“Of course. Nice to meet you, finally.”

“Can we get this over with?” asked Glynn curtly as he began massaging his
temples. “I assume your visit has something to do with Abel Finnessey, Dr. Gray?”

“In a way,” she said cautiously. “Is that the matter that ‘required your attention?”

Sister Pete huffed and took a seat to Jean’s right. Tim McManus just stood,
leaning against a bookshelf. “You could say that,” said Glynn. “It’s just that some of the
prison staff are…” He glanced quickly at Pete. “Concerned…”

“And with good reason!” said the nun sharply. “He’s terribly upset and depressed
about his sister’s death, and it couldn’t come at a worse time.”

“A worse time?” Jean asked.

Sister Pete turned to address Jean. “You of all people know that mutants always
face certain challenges in prison. But the last few months have been especially rocky in
terms of inter-prisoner relations. There’s a lot of anger toward mutants in general, and
since we only have two mutants--.”

“That’s enough, Pete,” Glynn interrupted. “If they were in that much danger, we’d
put them in protective custody. Neither of them has asked for protective custody.”

“But that doesn’t mean they aren’t at risk!” Pete insisted. “And now that Abel
isn’t thinking as clearly as he could be, he’s even more vulnerable.”

“To be frank, I’m more concerned for my staff right now than for Finnessey,” said
Glynn. “Dr. Grey, didn’t you say that high emotions can cause uncontrolled outbursts of
mutant power?”

Jean nodded reluctantly. “But Abel Finnessey is improving a great deal in
controlling his abilities. Or he was when we still held classes. In any case, that’s not what
I came to talk about.”

Glynn raised an eyebrow, wearily curious. “What, then?”

“It’s about my investigation,” she began cautiously. “And about Tae Finnessey’s
death.”

“This must be a real setback for you,” said McManus with a touch of bitterness. “I
heard she was testifying for you.”

He knew that she was helping me… I wonder who else he told. “That’s
not really the point, Mr. McManus,” said Jean. “The point is that we think there may be a
link between Tae Finnessey’s participation in this lawsuit and her murder.”

“Excuse me?” said Glynn.

“There’s no reason you or anyone here at Oz should be in danger,” said Jean
quickly.

“But?” Glynn prompted.

“But we have every reason to believe that this crime was related to the trial. We
just wanted to take precautions,” said Jean. “I’m just asking those people who I
interviewed to be on their guard until we know more about this murder.”

Glynn looked at her incredulously. “You mean someone might be murdering the
people you talked to?”

“It’s a possibility.”

“And who all did you talk to in Oz?” asked McManus.

“Well, both of you,” said Jean, nodding to Glynn and McManus. “Dr. Nathan, a
couple dozen COs, Finnessey himself, and a handful of other inmates. That’s all.”

“That’s a lot of my people to put at risk,” said Glynn quietly.

Jean bristled. “I didn’t put these people at risk. The person or people who
murdered Tae Finnessey put these people at risk. Or maybe not. Maybe nobody here’s at
risk. I just thought it would be best if I alerted you to the situation.”

Glynn was about to snap back when Sister Pete broke in. “And we’re glad you
have. There’s no sense in finger-pointing.” She shot the warden a warning look.

“Right,” said Glynn. “Is there anything else, Doctor?”

“No,” said Jean, rising from her chair. “Thank you for your time.” She gave each
of the three Oz employees a polite nod before retreating, as quickly as was dignified, out
the door.

McManus waited until the door had clicked shut, then said, “Now, really. What
are we going to do to deal with Finnessey?”
**********

Oz: Em City

“Count!” trumpeted Officer Mineo from Em City’s guard post.

Finnessey heard Hill pull himself into his wheelchair and roll out the door. He
didn’t bother to get up; he hadn’t left his pod for two days. The guards counted him in his
cell; the first time Murphy had tried to get him to come out. No one else was willing to
try to argue with a potentially dangerous mutant, even if Murphy hadn’t said to let him
be. McManus had tried to talk to him, then had sent Sister Pete to lay on the guilt trip: Dr.
Nathan missed him in the infirmary, she’d said. Cases were getting backed up. An inmate
orderly had delivered the wrong meds to some patients in the AIDS ward, and now so-
and-so was in a coma. You should go back, she’d said. Keep busy. He’d ignored her.

During the day, with most inmates away on their work assignments, Em City was
pleasantly quiet, and nothing interrupted Finnessey’s litany of self-loathing: your
fault, she’s dead, Tae’s all you had, and Becca, and Becca, and Becca. Sometimes,
to distract himself from the pain that choked him, he’d stare for hours out into Em City,
the magnificent, glass-walled zoo, and observe the animals, his fellow inmates. He did so
this morning.

He kept an eye on the ones that were usually interesting: Adebisi left right away
for breakfast duty, followed by some of the Italians. Beecher and Keller, in their pod, got
dressed for the day, flinging banter back and forth. Schillinger met up with a tall Aryan—
Adler, was it?—and the two left for the cafeteria talking in hushed tones. Cyril, who was
usually never far from Landry’s side, threw on clothes quickly, not even sparing a glance
for his pod-mate, and scampered after a group of Irish who were headed for breakfast.
Interesting . Finnessey ignored them and turned his attention back to Landry.

After Cyril left, the little mutant stayed in his pod, staring at the mirror for almost
a full minute. Then Finnessey watched Landry, in his boxers, casually stroll around the
deck and into Schillinger’s pod. He only stayed for a moment, but when he came out he
headed straight for the showers. Now what the hell…thought Finnessey, for once,
in recent memory, more than idly curious.

He pulled himself out of bed and followed Landry into the showers. Must have
been wrong, Finnessey thought at first glance. The room looked deserted. But he
listened for a moment, and heard the oh-so-quiet sound of breathing. He carefully, quietly
stepped forward, edging around the side of the half-wall that separated the showers from
the rest of the room. Landry come into view, sitting with his back to the partition, shank
in his right hand, carving delicate lines into his left forearm.

Suddenly Landry caught sight of Finnessey. He dropped the shank and clamped
his right hand over the cuts, turning his head to sneer at the intruder.

“What are you doing?” asked Finnessey calmly.

“Fuck off,” Landry growled.

“You do those too?” asked Finnessey, pointing.

Landry looked down at the network of white scars on his belly, then back to his
arm. “If you do it right they don’t scar. Only scar if he wants to mark you.”

“Then what are those for?” Finnessey held up his own arm.

“So I can do something right.” Landry’s eyes were bright with tears. He tried to
laugh, but it came out a sob.

“Okay, it’s okay,” said Finnessey, his voice calm, almost clinical. He edged
forward. Landry allowed it. “Can I see?”

Landry pulled his hand, slick with blood, away from the cuts. “Look,” he said
with a maniacal laugh. Finnessey crouched next to him and looked. Six straight lines,
each about an inch long, marred the side of Landry’s arm. Shallow, noted
Finnessey. And not across the vein. Good.

“Perfect little lines, perfect little lives, perfect order, one following another.
Following orders,” said Landry frantically.

“Put your hand back on there,” said Finnessey. “Apply pressure.” Landry did.
“Do you want to go to the infirmary?”

“Can’t,” said Landry firmly. “Gotta stay. Work to do.”

“Listen. I have to go get a towel from my pod, okay. Don’t move. Ben? Got it?”

Landry shook his head. “I need to keep going.”

Finnessey quickly picked up the shank and slipped it into his pocket. “Shut up. If
you want my help, you stay here and chill out, okay?” Finnessey stood and hesitated for a
moment. Am I okay to leave him here, even for a minute?

Landry was trembling, hugging his arm to his chest. “Elevate it,” said Finnessey
impatiently. He grabbed Landry’s arm and pulled it up to shoulder level, wrapping his
own hand around Landry’s to increase the pressure. “Like that, okay? You understand,
Ben?”

Landry leaned his head back against the tile and met Finnessey’s eyes with a look
of such naked pain that Finnessey crouched again to gather the younger man in his arms
fiercely, paternally. “I’m going to help you,” he said firmly. “Just don’t do anything until
I get back.”

He rose again and checked for blood on his clothes before heading back out into
the quad. Em City was mostly deserted, but Finnessey moved casually, confidently across
the floor to pod. Wish I had something helpful. But there’s not really a good excuse
for keeping gauze in my pod. He settled on a plain cotton t-shirt and a towel.
Right. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. How was he going to hide his arm? Stupid kid. He
grabbed a sweatshirt out of his laundry bag and set off back across the quad.

“Hey Doc.”

Damnit. Finnessey stopped and turned to see Murphy approaching. “Hey
Officer.”

“Glad to see you out of your pod,” said Murphy, stopping right in front of
Finnessey.

“Yeah. Nice to be out,” said Finnessey. Shit. There’s a fucking bloody shank
in my pocket. Don’t notice. Let it be out of sight. He shifted the bundle of fabric in his
hand to shield his left pocket from view. “I thought it was time to take a shower. Hill was
complaining.”

Murphy laughed companionably. “Sure. Whatever works.” Finnessey just smiled
vaguely and started to walk away. “Hey Finnessey.” Finnessey turned back. “Tell me
what really brought you out.”

“I found someone in more pain than me,” said Finnessey, and headed off to the
showers.
************

SVU Squad Room, New York City

Dr. George Hwang sat at Fin’s desk. He’d spent most of the previous day in court,
and now he was trying to catch up on the progress of the Finnessey case. He’d missed an
interview with an important witness, but Benson had left the transcript for him to review
while she and Stabler went back out to the crime scene. Tim McManus, the victim’s
boyfriend, had allegedly sent the investigation in an entirely new direction. Captain
Cragan had asked for his opinion of this guy’s reliability. He flipped back the cover page
of the stapled transcript.



OB: As you can see, we’re recording this conversation. We’re just going to ask you a
few questions about Ms. Finnessey, all right.

TM: Sure.

ES: How would you characterize your relationship with Ms. Finnessey?

TM: We were dating.

ES: How long had that been going on?

TM: Months. Six or seven months.

OB: How’d you two meet?

TM: At work.

ES: You work at Oswald State Penitentiary.

TM: Yes. Tae’s brother’s an inmate in my cell block.

ES: So how exactly did your paths cross?

TM: She came to meet with me about her brother’s […] condition.

OB: Condition?

TM: He’s a mutant.

ES: A mutant?

TM: Yeah.

OB: And after that you two started seeing each other?

TM: That’s right.

ES: Tell us about the last night you saw her.

TM: Okay. I came over about nine. We had some wine. I left about three.

OB: This was the night of the twelfth?

TM: Yeah.

ES: Where’d you go after you left?

TM: I drove back to Oz.

OB: In the middle of the night?

TM: I had to be to work in the morning.

ES: Did anyone see you leave?

TM: No.

ES: What time did you arrive at Oz, then?

TM: I guess about 6:30.

ES: And there’s some record of that?

TM: Sure. I signed in at the gate.

ES: That night, did you and Ms. Finnessey have sexual intercourse?

TM: What does that have to do with anything?

OB: Ms. Finnessey was raped.

TM: The papers didn’t say that. Why would they do that?

OB: We don’t know, Mr. McManus. We’re trying to find out. To rule you out as a
suspect, we need to know if you two had intercourse.

TM: I’m a suspect?

ES: Only until we rule you out.

TM: Fine. Yes, we had sex.

ES: And you used a condom?

TM: Yes.

OB: Did Ms. Finnessey seem upset or anxious?

TM: Not that I noticed.

OB: Had you noticed any change in her behavior in the days before the murder?

TM: Well, no. She did have a lot on her mind.

ES: Such as?

TM: Well, the lawsuit.

OB: What lawsuit?

TM: Wait a second. You mean you haven’t been…? You don’t even know…?

OB: Mr. McManus?

TM: I just can’t believe that you could miss something like this. This is the reason Tae
was murdered, and who knows what they hell you people have wasted your time on, if
you don’t even know-.

ES: Mr. McManus, just tell us what you know.

TM: Tae was participating in a lawsuit against the state and some company that
manufactures ‘behavior management’ equipment for use on mutants. Some mutant civil
rights group is bringing the lawsuit, but Tae was a pretty important witness. She’d just
decided to testify, in fact.

OB: And you think this lawsuit had something to do with her murder.

TM: Well this mutant civil rights group certainly does. The woman—what’s her
name—Dr. Grey—came out to Oz to warn us. She said to exercise caution, since whoever
did this might be going after other people involved in the lawsuit.

ES: Do you know what the group is called?

TM: I can’t ever remember. Mutant Coalition for Rights, or Mutants United… I have
no idea. But this doctor works at the Xavier School down in Westchester County.



“George?” Cragan wandered over to where Dr. Hwang sat. “What do you think?”

Hwang flipped through the rest of the interview. “I’d say it’s good we talked to
him when we did. Who knows when we would have gotten this information.”

“So you think he’s telling the truth?”

Hwang shrugged. “Sure. He was certainly surprised that we didn’t know about
this lawsuit. If he’d done it, I think he would have tried deliberately to send us on that
track. His mentioning it was more of an accident.”

“Well then we better move fast,” said Cragan, heading back to his office. “If what
he said is true, then more people might be in danger.”
***********

Oz: Cafeteria

Landry didn’t come to lunch, and Cyril was glad that he didn’t have to see him,
didn’t have to explain about last night. He sat with the Irish instead, and he saw that they
were glad to have him. They’re not my real friends, he thought matter-of-factly.
But I bet Ryan told them to keep an eye on me… Ryan… He felt a sudden pang of
guilt. I haven’t even been thinking of him. “Do you guys know when Ryan’s
coming back?” he asked the others.

Timmy Kirk shrugged. “Could be any time now. It’s been more than two weeks
already.”

“I bet that fuck McManus will keep him down there a whole month,” said Liam
Meaney. “That’d be just like him. For throwing one lousy punch.”

“I dunno,” said Kirk. “Wanna take bets?”

Meaney smiled. “Sure. Put me in for the 23rd.”

“I say the 19th,” piped up Colin Monahan from a couple seats down. The other
Irish started taking bets and discussing odds. Cyril was lost. He picked up his tray,
emptied it into the garbage, and left the cafeteria. On his way back to Em City, he thought
about what he’d say to Ryan when he got back. He doesn’t like Benjamin. How do I
make him like Benjamin?

“Cyril?”

Cyril turned to see Landry lurking in the doorway of a stairwell. “Hey,” said
Landry. “Can I talk to you?”

Cyril stepped cautiously over to where his pod-mate waited. “Hey.”

Landry took a deep breath, and began. “Look, about last night--.”

Cyril waved a hand to cut him off. “No, listen, Benjamin. When Ryan comes
back—. He’ll come back soon. And then we have to do something.”

“Right,” said Landry, and his hand went to his left arm. “Cyril, listen. I have to
tell you something important. See, it’s about Schillinger.”

Cyril put his hands to his face as the memories welled up again: laughter,
hand in his hair, pain, concrete, hard to breathe, the swastika. The swastika—on
Benjamin. “Stop it,” Cyril yelled.

“What’s wrong?” Landry tentatively laid a hand on Cyril’s shoulder, but Cyril
responded with a savage push that sent Landry reeling back into the stairwell door, then
to the floor. Cyril turned away and ran for Emerald City without looking back.
*************