Marrow

Marrow. Part Nine.
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.
Thanks to: Mayalaen and Willow for the Beta.
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.
Format note: If line breaks are funky, click the “englarge text” or “shrink text” button at the top of the page until it looks right.

PART NINE

Oz: Em City

The lights clicked on throughout Em City, bathing the place in ugly fluorescence.
“Count!” trumpeted Bradley from the guard station.

Prisoners spilled out of their pods, pulling on clothes, talking to friends and
jeering at enemies as they lined up. Landry pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt
before staggering out to line up next to Schillinger.

“05L916, Landry, Benjamin,” read Murphy. Well, he’s alive. Tim must have
been worrying over--. Murphy happened to glance up and notice Landry’s face. He
was pale, terribly pale, and his skin shone with sweat. He was hugging himself as if
holding on for dear life. When Murphy looked a little closer, he could see the kid was
shaking. “Hey Landry. What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“I’m cold, sir,” chattered Landry.

Murphy looked accusingly at Schillinger.

“Guess he’s sick. Doesn’t look too good,” said Schillinger casually.

“Fine. Whatever. I’m taking him to the infirmary. Mike?” Murphy gestured for
Bradley to come and take over count. He took Landry by the arm and steered him gently
toward the contact gate. Bradley looked at the clipboard and started where Murphy had
left off.

“92S110, Schillinger.”
********

Oz: Children’s Visiting Room

Finnessey sat nervously tapping his fingers on a kid-sized table. Dr. Hwang sat
next to him, clipboard and pen in hand. “Now remember,” he was saying, “she may look
and act different than you remember. Don’t be surprised if she doesn’t talk at first, or if
she doesn’t talk at all. It may take her a number of sessions to feel comfortable with you.”

Finnessey didn’t answer; he kept his eyes window that opened onto the hallway.
“Now, Detective Stabler will be asking the questions,” Hwang continued. “I’m just here
to look after Becca, and I’ll stop the session if it looks like she’s getting upset, all right?”
Just then Officer Holtz appeared, followed by Detective Stabler. Holtz opened the door
for Stabler, who was holding a little, blond girl by the hand.

With a squeal of delight, the child broke away from Stabler and ran to jump into
Finnessey’s arms. “Daddy!”

Finnessey held her tightly and planted a kiss on her head. “Hey precious. I’ve
missed you!”

Hwang gave Stabler an incredulous stare that said, “Well that was ridiculously
easy.” Stabler shrugged. As far as fathers and their daughters were concerned, nothing
surprised him.

“How’s my girl?” Finnessey asked once Becca had released him.

Her face fell a little. “I miss Auntae.”

“Aunt Tae? Yeah, I miss her too, honey.”

Becca crawled into Finnessey’s lap and leaned against his chest. “What happened
to her?” she asked softly.

“Well.” Finnessey looked to Hwang, who only raised his eyebrows. “Some bad
people hurt her.”

“She’s dead, isn’t she.” It wasn’t really a question.

“Yes, Becca. She died.”

“Daddy, why’d she have to die?”

“Well, honey, that’s what this nice man wants to find out. He needs to ask you
some questions.”

“Oh.” Becca sat up straighter and looked at Stabler suspiciously.

“Can you answer his questions? I’ll be right here the whole time.”

“Okay.” Finnessey gave Becca’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze, and then
nodded to Stabler.

“Becca, did you ever hear anyone saying angry words to your Aunt?” Stabler
began. Becca shook her head. “Did your Aunt ever say angry words? On the phone,
maybe?”

The girl thought about it for a moment, then looked to her father. “It’s okay,
honey. You can tell him,” he said encouragingly.

“One day at Uncle Joey’s, this man and this woman were talking to Auntae. And
she got angry and yelled and we left.”

“Okay. Where’s your Uncle Joey’s?” asked Stabler.

“We eat there, sometimes. It’s where Mindy works.”

“Okay. Did you know the man and woman?”

“No.”

“But your Aunt knew them.” Becca shrugged.

“Bec, what were their names?” asked Finnessey.

Stabler looked doubtfully at the inmate, but Becca said proudly, “Scott and Jean.
Jean and Scott.”

Finnessey smiled knowingly. “Good girl. Hey, what’s his name?” he asked,
nodding at Stabler.

“His name is Elliot, and his name is George,” she said, looking at Hwang. “But
I’ve already got a George, so he doesn’t count.”

Finnessey planted another kiss on the top of his daughter’s head. “Becca collects
names,” he explained. “Just because she doesn’t talk doesn’t mean she doesn’t listen,
right Bec?” She beamed up at him.

“Okay,” said Stabler. “So do you remember what Jean and Scott talked about?”
Becca nodded. “Can you tell me?”

“Auntae told them that I wasn’t allowed to see Daddy because Mr. Law said so,
and they said they wanted to help.” Becca lowered her voice to a whisper. “And then
Auntae said a swear.”

“Do you know why your Aunt was angry?”

Becca thought for a moment. “Maybe because I tried to eat a toothpick.”

Finnessey gently took his daughter’s hand. “No, honey, I don’t think that was it,”
he said.
*********

Oz: Em City

McManus stared out his office window at the business of the quad: his inmates
watching TV, playing checkers, holding councils with their gangs. When Murphy
knocked on the door, he called, “Come in,” without turning around.

Murphy ushered in Ryan and Cyril O’Reilly, then closed the door and stood
against it. “What now, McManus?” Ryan asked impatiently as he sat and nodded to his
brother to do the same.

“I’ve got a question for Cyril, actually,” said McManus, plopping down in his
desk chair. “So I’d appreciate it if you’d let him give me an honest answer.”

Ryan narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. Cyril looked attentive.

“Cyril, I want you to tell me who you would rather have as a pod mate: your
brother Ryan, or Benjamin Landry,” McManus said.

“What the fuck? Of course he wants me,” said Ryan.

“Shut up,” said Murphy.

Ryan turned to look at Cyril expectantly. Cyril sank back in his chair, unsure.

“Cyril?” McManus prompted.

“I don’t know,” said Cyril softly.

“Cyril! Come on bro, what the hell?” Ryan shouted incredulously. Suddenly he
thought of his talk with Landry in the store room. “Just ask him.” Shit, Cyril’s not
ready to let go yet.

“Where would Ryan go if Benjamin was in my pod?” Cyril asked.

McManus consulted a piece of paper on his desk. “I could put him with Timmy
Kirk.”

Cyril turned to his brother for guidance, but Ryan just folded his arms over his
chest and fixed him with the patented O’Reilly stare-down. Cyril looked to Murphy, then
McManus, then back to Ryan before speaking. “I think Benjamin would want to be with
me and not have to stay with Schillinjer,” he said, eyes fixed on the floor.

“Okay,” said McManus. “Done. I’ll tell Landry. Ryan, pack your stuff.”

Without a word, Ryan stood. Murphy opened the door and stood aside as Ryan
swept out of the room with Cyril trotting behind.

“Ryan, wait up,” Cyril said as Ryan charged down the stairs from McManus’
office. “Don’t be mad,” he hissed.

Ryan slowed his steps so his brother could catch up. I should have seen this
one coming. Landry as much as told me he could make this happen. “I’m not mad,”
he said flatly as the two of them headed for their pod.

“Yes you are. Don’t be mad.”

Ryan opened the door to the pod and gestured Cyril inside. He closed the door
before asking, “Why do you want to share a pod with Landry?”

“He’s my friend,” Cyril said defensively.

“You’re fucking him,” said Ryan bluntly.

Cyril blushed. “Is that wrong?”

Ryan pinned Cyril with a serious stare. “Has he ever done anything to you that
you didn’t want to do?”

“No,” said Cyril firmly. “He’s not like that.”

“Listen.” Ryan grabbed Cyril’s shoulders and stood nose-to-nose with him. “Do
not ever let him do anything you don’t want, okay? I will always be around
keeping an eye on you. And as soon as you’re ready, I’ll move in with you again.”

“But if you moved in with me, where would Benjamin go?”

“Cyril, you know people come and go all the time in Em City,” Ryan said as he
began to throw his stuff into his laundry bag viciously. “Where’s Kenny Wangler?
Where’s Officer Whittelsey? Where’s Peter Shibetta? Where’s Miguel Alvarez?”

“I don’t want Benjamin to go away,” said Cyril. He sat on the edge of his bunk to
watch his brother pack. “I like Benjamin.”

Ryan turned around. “Do you love him?”

“I told you I do,” Cyril said, blushing.

“Do you love me?”

“That’s different,” said Cyril at once.

“Yeah.” Ryan stood and hefted his bag. “But Cyril, think about it. If you had to
choose between me and him, between your brother and some mutant prag, what would
you do?” With that, Ryan walked out of the pod, leaving Cyril alone.
*********

Oz: Infirmary

“Hey Doctor Nathan!” Gloria Nathan walked over to the bed where Benjamin
Landry was cocooned in blankets. “I feel fine. Can I go now?” he asked eagerly.

“No. Not until I’m sure you’re body temperature is stable. How did you get so
cold just sitting in your cell, anyway?”

“I don’t know. But I feel fine. Can I go to lunch?”

Dr. Nathan put her hands on her hips. “If you tell me what happened to lower
your body temperature four degrees.”

“I don’t know,” Landry repeated half-heartedly.

“Fine. Then you stay,” she said, and walked away.

Landry lay back down and pulled the blankets more tightly around him. He had
almost dropped off to sleep when Tim McManus appeared at his bedside. “Hey,
Benjamin. What happened?”

Landry shrugged. “I guess I’m sick,” he said.

“I’ve got some news for you. Cyril O’Reilly’s requested that you move back into
his pod. So once Dr. Nathan says it’s okay for you to go back to Em City, you’ll bunk
with Cyril.”

“McManus, I’m all better,” Landry said firmly, and pushed himself into a sitting
position. “Will you ask Dr. Nathan if I can leave?”

McManus narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “She said that you won’t tell her what
caused this.”

“How am I supposed to know? She’s the doctor,” Landry complained. “I must
have caught some bug.”

“Whatever you say kid,” said McManus with a dismissive shake of his head.

Landry watched him walk away; then he began to take close stock of his
surroundings. There were three other inmates in the ward. Two of them were dozing, and
the third, secured to the bed by leather straps, was staring at the ceiling. Landry couldn’t
tell if he was catatonic or just deep in thought. Through the glass panel on the door,
Landry could see a CO standing with his back to him, talking to a nurse.

Quickly and quietly Landry slipped out of his bed and crept over to the row of
cabinets that lined the far wall of the infirmary. The first drawer he tried was locked, the
second had gauze and bandages, and the third held boxes of latex gloves. He looked over
his shoulder and saw the CO still engrossed in conversation.

“Psst, hey,” came a soft voice from one of the beds. Landry turned to see that the
inmate who hadn’t been asleep was now staring at him. “Watcha doing?”

“I’m looking for something. Shut the fuck up,” Landry hissed, and began opening
cabinets.

“Tell me what you’re looking for,” said the bed-bound man. “I can help.”

“I need a fucking shank, okay,” Landry said softly. “A scalpel or something.” The
cabinets didn’t have what he needed. He shut the doors quietly.

“They don’t leave that shit lying around where one of us could pick it up, man.
Try Dr. Nathan’s office.”

Landry eased open the cage-like door of Dr. Nathan’s office and spotted an open
box of surgical tools on a shelf. He grabbed the first sharp tool that came to hand and
slipped back into the ward.

“Hey, you get it?” asked the other inmate. Landry shook his head. “Well, at least
bring me some tits while you’re up.”

The door to the ward swung open and the voices of the CO and a nurse floated in.
Landry fled to his bed and burrowed under the covers just as the CO finally turned and
ushered in Ryan O’Reilly pushing the cart of lunch trays.

Landry deftly reached down the side of his bed and slipped the shank under the
mattress while the CO watched O’Reilly serve the other three inmates. When O’Reilly
brought him his tray, he said, “I made this special just for you. Cyril wants to be roomies
with you, fine. You just be careful. Have a nice day.” Then he was gone, followed by the
CO, and Landry pulled his blankets tight around him, unable to sleep.

***********

SVU Squad Room, New York City

“All right, let’s go over this again,” Fin said patiently. “Tae Finnessey called you
on the afternoon of the nineteenth.”

Jean Grey nodded. “Yes.”

“What time was that?” Munch asked.

“I think about four.”

Fin raised an eyebrow. “You think?”

“Yes. Maybe four-thirty.”

“Was it four or four-thirty?” Munch pressed.

“I don’t remember.”

“What did you do after that?” Fin asked.

“After she called?”

“Yeah.”

“I wrote down the appointment in my date book.” Jean thought for a moment. “I
went out to dinner.”

“Can anyone verify that?” Munch asked.

“Sure. My boyfriend.”

“Who has access to your date book?” asked Fin.

“I suppose anyone who can get into my office, which would be any of the faculty
at the school.”

Munch leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “What do the rest of
the faculty think of this lawsuit you’re working on?”

“They’re all very supportive.”

“Uh huh,” said Fin skeptically. “Let’s talk about your first meeting with Tae. It
didn’t go well, right?”

“I told you. She seemed pretty hostile about testifying.”

“How’d you feel about that?” Munch asked.

“Frustrated. I knew that she’d be an important witness if she agreed to testify.”

“So who’d you tell about this frustration?” Fin wanted to know.

“Scott and I talked on the way home. And I guess I told Professor Xavier about
the meeting. But I understood Tae’s position. It’s not as if I was bitter towards her for not
wanting to help.”

“No?” Munch asked doubtfully.

“No,” Jean said calmly. “I’ve been working for mutants rights a long time,
Detectives, and I know that people have different comfort levels when it comes to
supporting controversial issues. It’s not shocking to me that someone would be scared of
reprisal for helping a pro-mutant organization.”

“Have you or your organization received any threats regarding this lawsuit?”
Munch asked as he flipped to a new page of his notepad.

“I’m not really sure,” said Jean. “Frankly, we got a lot of threats. Phone calls, e-
mails, letters. I don’t bother reading them.”

“We’re going to need everything you’ve kept. Letters, e-mail, and voice mail,”
Fin said.

“Sure. I’ll round up what we’ve got,” said Jean. “Anything I can do to help.”
********

Oz: Counseling Office

“But where did he get the knife?” McManus asked as he and Gloria Nathan
walked into Sister Pete’s office.

“He must have taken it from my office while the CO was out of the room,” Gloria
said, shaking her head.

“This doesn’t sound good” Pete said with a sigh. She set down the report she was
reading and took off her glasses.

“Benjamin Landry cut himself,” said McManus; he flopped down in the nearest
chair.

“Is he hurt?” Pete asked.

“It’s not that bad; it’s just worrisome. He didn’t slice himself like Miguel Alvarez,
he scraped off some skin on his back,” Gloria explained.

Pete narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

“He wouldn’t say,” McManus grumbled.

“He also has cuts on his arm that are healing,” Gloria put in. “I think those were
self-inflicted too. I don’t know if he’s done it before, but it looks like a pattern of self
harm.”

“So what are our plans?” The nun began digging through a drawer of her desk and
came out with a case file. “I’m not scheduled to see him until Friday, but I’d like to see
him as soon as possible.”

“I think we should transfer him to the mental ward,” McManus said. “He’s a
danger to himself.”

“Maybe,” Pete said. “But that doesn’t mean he’s crazy, Tim.”

“Here’s what I think,” said Gloria. “I think he needs to go back to Em City as
soon as possible. I think he needs to be around the other inmates he looks to for
guidance.”

“You mean Schillinger?” asked McManus sharply.

“No, of course not,” Gloria replied just as sharply.

“He has other friends, you know,” Pete broke in. “Abel Finnessey, and Tobias
Beecher and even Cyril O’Reilly.”

“Besides,” said Gloria, “I don’t think he’s with Schillinger anymore.”

“And why’s that?” McManus asked curiously.

“Didn’t you say he had a tattoo?” Gloria asked.

“Yeah.”

“Where?”

“On his back…,” said McManus. “Wait, is that what he-?”

“Yes. I think he cut off the skin to remove the Aryan tattoo.”

“Why do these things always happen with the prisoners who are high-profile?”
McManus asked. “Landry’s supposed to talk to some ADA tomorrow. Will he be alright
by then?”

“Well I don’t have to keep him in the infirmary. I’ve already bandaged the
wound, and he just needs to come in to have it cleaned,” said Gloria. “And like I said, I’d
sooner see him back in Em City.”

“Pete, do you think we can trust him to not hurt himself anymore?” McManus
asked, turning to the nun.

“Let me see him before you send him back, and if I think it’s not a good idea, I’ll
let you know.”

“Okay. We’ll give him another chance. But tell him that if he hurts himself again,
he’s going to the psych ward.”
***********

Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters

“Hey Jean,” Scott said as he entered her office. “How was-.” He stopped short at
the sight of boxes and boxes of paper stacked around Jean’s desk. “What’s all this?”

She looked up wearily. “Hate mail. I wanted to go through it before I handed it
over to the police, in case I notice anything that might help.”

“Sounds depressing. Need any help?”

“You’re a prince,” Jean said with a tired smile. She gestured to a box. “Do you
want to tackle the e-mail print-outs?”

“Sure,” said Scott. He picked up the box and carried it over to a comfortable arm
chair. “What exactly am I looking for?”

“Well… I’m not sure. Anything that mentions the lawsuit, or anything related to
the lawsuit, and any specific threats of violence.”

“Okay.” Scott picked a piece of paper from his box at random and began to read.
After a moment he stopped and watched Jean. “You don’t need to torture yourself like
this,” he said finally.

“I’m not torturing myself.” Jean glanced away from her reading just long enough
to glare at him. “I feel like I owe it to Tae Finnessey to do whatever I can to catch her
killer.”

“The police will do it, Jean. I’m sure Miss Finnessey wouldn’t have wanted you
to work yourself into the ground like this.”

“Well whatever she would have wanted is irrelevant, because she’s dead,” Jean
said flatly. “She’ll never want anything again.” She let the paper she’d been reading drop
onto the desk and stared at it. “She’ll never order her regular meal at that diner. She
won’t be around to see her niece grow up.”

Scott made a move to get up, but Jean held up her hand to stop him. “I just want
to do something to help.” She gave Scott a pleading look, then shook her head and
returned to her reading.

After a moment Scott did the same. He had to read the paper in his hand three
times before he could concentrate enough to get the sense of it. When he did, he stood
and walked over to the desk to hand the print-out to Jean. “I think this might help.”
***********

Oz: Em City

Cyril bounced a ball against the glass wall of his pod. He caught it and threw it
again with the fluid motion of a lifelong athlete. In the pod next door, Aaron Adler
flinched as the ball smacked against the glass again, but said nothing. He’d given up
complaining about Cyril hours ago, when his shouted demands to Murphy and the other
hacks had been met with nothing more than amused smiles.

Across the quad on the ground level, Ryan O’Reilly turned the page of a travel
brochure for Maui. He spared a momentary glance for Timmy Kirk, who was sitting on
the toilet reading the Bible. Gotta admit it’s nice not to be interrupted by a stupid
question every ten seconds, Ryan reflected. He felt a brief twinge of guilt. But
Cyril’s fine. His playmate isn’t back yet, so there won’t be any trouble tonight. Even
as he thought it, he heard the contact gate rumble open.

He turned in his bunk so he could see the entrance to Em City. Landry strode
through the gate with an oddly confident swagger; Officer Holtz followed him. Ryan
narrowed his eyes as he caught a glimpse of motion across the way. Cyril had abandoned
whatever he’d been doing and plastered himself against his pod door to watch Landry’s
progress up the stairs. I wish he wouldn’t be so goddamn obvious. He’s turning into a
fucking faggot. Ryan squelched that thought before he could continue it. He loved
his brother, no matter what happened. I just don’t want to see him suffer. Good thing
this isn’t going to last.

Landry could feel the eyes of Em City on him, as he had his first night here,
walking to his pod after count. He knew Schillinger’s eyes were among those watching.
And Ryan O’Reilly’s. The sensation was disturbing, but he forced himself to ignore it.
He had to be good. “I’ll send you back,” Sister Pete had told him, “But you only have so
many chances, Benjamin. You know that if you hurt someone else, you go to solitary. If
you hurt yourself, you go to the psych ward. Make sure no one gets hurt.” Landry
breathed deeply. He just had to make it to the safety of the pod, the safety of being with
Cyril.

Holtz waved to the guard station as the two approached Cyril’s pod. As soon as
the hydraulic hiss announced the door’s opening, Landry snaked inside and greeted Cyril
with a hug. “Hey,” said Holtz warningly. Landry let go immediately, and Holtz retreated
to the guard station.

“Hi Benjamin,” Cyril said.

Landry looked up at him anxiously. “I missed you.” He pulled Cyril gently
toward the back of their pod, where at least they couldn’t be seen from the first-floor
pods. “I want to show you something.”

Cyril watched curiously as Landry stripped off his shirt. From next door, Adler
and his pod-mate Loewe sat on their bottom bunk and stared mockingly at the couple,
denying them the semblance of privacy. Landry turned away from Cyril and gingerly
pulled off the gauze pad that covered the wound at the base of his spine. “You’re hurt,”
Cyril said in alarm.

“Not anymore,” said Landry with a smile. He turned to look at Cyril. “Do you
see? I got it off. I’m done with it.” Slow recognition dawned on Cyril’s face. He grabbed
Landry by the shoulders and turned him around once more to look at the place where the
Aryan tattoo had been. “I know you hated it. And it was a lie, anyway.” Landry looked
over his shoulder at Cyril. “I belong to you.”

Cyril let go of the smaller man’s shoulders to run his hand down Landry’s naked
back. Landry let him. But the moment he turned his eyes away from Cyril, he noticed the
Aryans in the next pod. They were no longer looking on in mocking disdain. Now they
were angry. Adler caught Landry’s eye and slowly dragged his finger across his throat.
The lights went out in Em City.

Landry turned back to Cyril and waited. Cyril raised his eyebrows hopefully.
“Whatever you want,” said Landry softly. “Take whatever you want.”

Cyril’s face held relief and just a hint of hunger. He gently steered his pod-mate
onto the bed. Landry leaned back, opening his mouth to greet Cyril’s as the older men
leaned in for a kiss. He broke away for a moment to pull Cyril’s shirt over his head, and
they both fumbled blindly with their pants until two pairs of pants and boxers lay on the
floor, and Cyril knelt astride Landry, suddenly shy.

Landry leaned forward until their foreheads touched, and whispered, “You’re
always afraid in here. Don’t be. You don’t ever have to be afraid of me. You’re the strong one. You remember what that’s like?”

Cyril thought suddenly of Moira, how she used to writhe under him, begging for
more while he pinned her wrists above her head. Then he recalled the fear he’d felt when
he knelt in front of Schillinger. He shook his head quickly to banish the memory. I’m
different now, he told himself fiercely. I’m the one in charge.

Landry saw Cyril’s eyes darken with a look that was half anger and half
determination. “Turn around,” the Irishman said huskily. With the permanent note of
childish anxiety erased, Landry glimpsed the reflection of the man Cyril had been before
his accident.

Landry quickly lifted himself on all fours and turned, raising his ass invitingly.
Cyril grabbed the small man’s hips tightly and pulled him back. He leaned down over
Landry’s back to whisper in his ear, “You’re mine.” Then he thrust his hips forward, his
swollen cock pressing insistently against Landry’s dry opening. Landry pushed
backwards as Cyril thrust again; he muffled a hiss as Cyril’s length slipped inside.

Cyril held still for a moment, breathing deeply, arms wrapped around Landry’s
waist, sweat from his chest mixing with the sweat on his pod-mate’s back. Then he
straightened up, resuming his grip on Landry’s hips.

He pulled back, unsheathing himself almost entirely, then pushed back quickly,
burying himself to the balls. He threw back his head in pleasure, and he felt Landry’s
muscles clench around his cock. With a reckless laugh, Cyril did it again, slowly pulling
out and then suddenly plunging in hard. He slowly picked up speed, fucking with long,
smooth strokes, reveling in the small, helpless sounds Landry was making.

Cyril’s eyes moved to the open wound on Landry’s back. He thrust harder as if,
by getting just a little deeper, he could wipe out the fact that Schillinger had ever touched
either of them. Landry grabbed handfuls of the sheets and bit his lip to keep from crying
out in pain and pleasure as Cyril hammered into him.

Cyril quickened his pace, his breath coming fast and ragged as he drove himself
over and over into the wet vacuum that pushed back to welcome him. Landry braced
himself on one elbow and reached between his legs to run his hand frantically up and
down his weeping cock in time with Cyril’s thrusts. Cyril loosened one hand’s bruising
grip from Landry’s waist to reach around and cover Landry’s small hand with his own.
The two stroked together as Cyril drove his cock mercilessly into Landry’s upturned ass.

Landry gave a little gasp that morphed into a helpless yelp as he arched his back,
spraying his cum onto his own belly and the sheets below. Cyril plunged his cock as far
as he could up Landry’s passage as he came hard, one hand bruising Landry’s hip, the
other squeezing the man’s spent cock. Then he collapsed on top of Landry, panting
wildly as he tried to regain the power of thought.

The two men tensed as they heard the rhythmic thump of steps approaching. Cyril
rolled off his pod-mate, and Landry vaulted out of the bunk to stand next to the pod door.
He rubbed the length of his naked body languidly up the glass like a dog in heat, leering
suggestively, streaking the glass with sweat and cum as the hack shone his flashlight into
the pod. Holtz rolled his eyes and walked on. After a brief triumphant grin, Landry’s eyes
caught Schillinger watching him from across the quad, his face in shadow. Landry turned
away quickly.

He knelt gracefully next to the bottom bunk where Cyril lay watching him with a
slight smile. “Cyril, I feel like everything inside me is vibrating. I want you to have me.
For keeps, I mean.” He reached out to run his hand down Cyril’s chest until it reached his
softening cock. Landry gently wrapped his hand around it and stroked leisurely. “Feel
how hot my skin is. I love you. You can have me, you can do whatever you want; I don’t
care.”

“I own you,” said Cyril. He spread his legs to give Landry greater access. “And I
love you.”

“You do own me.” Landry gave Cyril’s cock a particularly emphatic tug. “But I
love you.” Seeing Cyril’s smile, Landry gave one more look for patrolling hacks before
climbing back into bed with his new owner.
*********

SVU Squad Room, New York City

“Merry Christmas to all, and Happy Hanukah to you, John,” said Stabler, hanging
up the phone. “We’ve got a name. The e-mail address belongs to a Mr. Evan Haslet.
Anyone come across that anywhere else?”

A chorus of “no’s” echoed throughout the squad room.

“This is one of the threats the Xavier people passed onto us?” asked Cragan.
Stabler nodded. “All right then. Who’s going to chase it down?”

“We’ll go talk to the Xavier School people and see if they might know why Mr.
Haslet would want—What was it?-- ‘you and all murdering mutant scum to rot in prison
and Hell,’” said Benson.

“I guess that leaves us to go after the man himself,” Fin said.

“Keep me updated, people,” Cragan said as he waved his squad out the door.
*********

Oz: Library

“He can just walk away from us?” Loewe grumbled. “What the hell kind of
message does that send?”

“I told them what he did, and Vern just said ‘we’ll talk about it.’” Adler snorted in
contempt. “That’s two prags who’ve spurned old Vern and lived to tell the tale.”

The two entered the library. Loewe momentarily leaned in close to his pod-mate
and said softly, “I think maybe somebody’s forgetting how to play the game.”

Adler said nothing, but took a seat at the long table where the other Aryans were
gathered, talking amongst themselves. He waited for a lull in conversation before
speaking. “He’s not dead, Vern.”

Everyone at the table tensed at this statement and turned their attention to
Schillinger to gauge his reaction. “I know that,” the Aryan leader said calmly.

“So what now?” Adler asked.

Schillinger smiled disarmingly, as if there was no confrontation occurring.
“Nothing’s changed. We can still use Landry to get O’Reilly out of the picture.”

“How?” asked Loewe with a hint of a sneer. “Our best chance for action was right
when Ryan got out of the Hole. Now he’s made some kind of deal with little Benny
Boy.”

“It doesn’t change anything,” said Schillinger evenly. “We can still use this. We
just need to kill Landry and make it look like O’Reilly was responsible.”

“I’m glad we can finally get rid of that little mongrel. He gives me the creeps,”
Schreiber said. “So what’s the plan?”

“Loewe,” said Schillinger offhandedly, and turned to face him across the table.
“You’re new to the fold. Why don’t you show us what you can do. Aaron will help you
out.”

Adler’s eyes narrowed in anger, and Loewe did a similarly poor job of hiding his
irritation. “What’s the plan?” Loewe asked finally

“Oh, you can figure something out.” Schillinger smiled condescendingly. “Just
make sure the hacks think it was O’Reilly. Have fun.” He rose to leave, and the other
Aryans followed suit, leaving Loewe and Adler sitting at the table glaring after
Schillinger.
**********

Oz: Interview Room 2

“And what happened then?” Cabbot asked.

Landry furrowed his brow in concentration. “Then Henri told me that they were
going out, and I shouldn’t wait up.”

Cabbot waited for a moment, then prompted, “The keys.”

“Oh, right,” said Landry sheepishly. “That I shouldn’t wait up, and then Henri
handed the keys to Remi and they left.”

“Good.” Cabbot set down her pen. “That was much better. Don’t you think?”

“I really appreciate you helping me, Miss Cabbot,” Landry said. “I didn’t testify
at my trials before, so I’m kinda nervous.”

“Don’t worry, Benjamin. You’ll do fine.”

“What if they ask me about…?” he asked hesitantly. “You know.”

Alex saw the embarrassment in his face. “What you did with the Castilles?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, we’ll see what the judge thinks about that issue,” she said carefully. “It
could be that your relationship with the defendant will be relevant, maybe not. They’re
sure to talk about the events of June sixteenth. It would be best to be prepared to answer
questions about it.”

“I mean, I guess I don’t mind saying it, but…,” Landry leaned further across the
table and lowered his voice. “Miss Cabbot, it’s just that I don’t think the words I know
are the words I should say in court. You know, since you said that bad language would,
um, unfavorably influence the jurors?”

“Oh. Okay.” Alex tried to hide her surprise. Well, I guess he’d have no reason
to know the technical terms for everything that’s been done to him. I can’t imagine Remy
Castille stopping to give anatomy lessons. “I can teach you the words you should
use.”

“No, shit. Forget it,” Landry said, blushing. “I’ll ask someone else. I’ll ask
Beecher. He’ll tell me.”

“I don’t mind. Whatever you need.”

Landry quickly changed topics. “What else are they going to ask about?”

“They may discuss your character. That means they might try to prove that you’re
not a good witness.”

“Cuz I’m in prison.”

“That’s part of it.”

“Will they talk about what I did?” he asked after a moment.

“Maybe. They’ll probably want to talk about your crime. But mostly that’s
beyond the scope of this inquiry, so I can object.”

“I’m pretty nervous.”

“Don’t be.” Alex patted Landry’s hand where it rested on the table. “You’ve got
nothing to loose and everything to gain. I’ll still help Tobias Beecher with your appeal
even if we can’t convict Castille.”

Landry cocked his head to the side quizzically. “My appeal?”

“Right. Tobias Beecher’s writing it for you,” said Alex.

“I’d almost forgot… I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

“Just try not to worry, Benjamin. When the time comes, you’ll do fine.”
*********

Oz: Children’s Visiting Room

Dr. Hwang watched Becca Finnessey playing with building blocks while they
waited for her father. This was their fourth trip to Oz, and Hwang had begun to look
forward to the visits. Even if they had seemed to hit a dead end with what the girl knew
about the murder of her aunt, it was gratifying to see Becca open up as she never did
outside this room. If the psychologists at Child Protective Services had more time to
devote to her, maybe she would be talking to people other than Abel Finnessey. Or
maybe not, Hwang told himself. Maybe she just needs her father.

A guard opened the door to admit Abel Finnessey. Becca looked up from her
blocks and said simply, “Hi Daddy.”

“Hey Bec,” Finnessey said with a smile. He looked at Hwang. “Hello Doctor
Hwang.”

“Good to see you again, Doctor Finnessey,” said Hwang, working to avoid the
irony creeping into his voice. “How’ve you been?”

“Oh, in prison. You?” Without waiting for an answer, Finnessey knelt on the floor
next to his daughter and picked up a building block. “What are you building, honey?”

“It’s Heaven,” she said, gently perching a block on top of a structure she’d
already built. “Where Mommy and Auntae are.”

“Can I help?” Finnessey asked.

“No,” said Becca firmly. “You help build that,” she said, pointing to another pile
of blocks off to the side. “That’s the kingdom of Oz, where you live.”

Hwang watched Finnessey flinch slightly. “Okay. I’ll build that,” said Finnessey.
Hwang stood up quietly and unobtrusively let himself out of the room. The last two
sessions he’d given them a little time alone together. Technically, he was supposed to be
present, supervising their interaction. But it’s tough to build that father/daughter bond
with a stranger watching your every move, thought Hwang. Besides, the more
comfortable Becca is with him, the more likely she is to tell him anything important she
remembers.

Finnessey heard the door close behind the psychologist as he added a wall to
Becca’s pretend kingdom. “Hey honey, I was wondering something,” he said casually.

“What?” Becca turned her wide eyes on him like a spotlight.

“Jean called me today. You remember Jean?” Becca nodded. “And she told me
about a man she knows. I thought you might want to add his name to your collection.” He
took a deep breath. “Do you have an Evan in your name collection?” he asked.

She frowned in thought for a moment, then said, “Yes. Evan. That’s a boy name.
Ohh.” The last word was sharp, alarming, and she sat up straighter. “He came to repair
the sink,” she said seriously. “He was there when Auntae was on the phone.”

Finnessey bit his lip. “On the phone?”

Becca leaned closer. “With Jean,” she whispered. “The day Auntae went away.”

Finnessey held his breath. So he knew Tae was testifying. Just some guy that
overheard the conversation. And happened to be an anti-mutant activist. Evan Haslet. It
had to be him.

“Do you think he’s the one, Daddy?” Becca asked, her voice high and frightened.

Finnessey quickly put his arm around her and hugged her close. “No, honey. He’s
no one. I was just curious.” He kissed the top of her head and let her go. “What’s your
newest name?” he asked with false cheerfulness.

“Wesley!” she said proudly. “That’s my new foster brother. Weh-ess-lee.”

The door clicked open softly, and Hwang slipped inside and resumed his seat
behind the couple on the floor.

“Foster brother. Sounds like fun,” said Finnessey lightly. “Do you pick on him?”

“No, silly,” said Becca, and stuck out her tongue.

Finnessey said something in reply, but he couldn’t hear his own words. I know
who it is, he thought. I know, but still I can’t do for Tae what I did for Lydia,
because I’m in this place. This place… Maybe there’s a way.
************

Oz: Em City

“No, say penis. That’s the technical word,” Beecher said, leaning against the glass
wall that bordered the bottom bunk of his pod.

Landry hesitated, then said, “Penis.”

“Say it again,” said Keller from his perch on the top bunk.

Landry, sitting on the floor, scowled. “No.”

“You’re going to have to say it in front of a whole courtroom, Ben,” Beecher
pointed out.

“Fine. Penis, penis, penis. Happy?” Landry asked sarcastically. Keller just winked
at him.

“You remember the rest?” asked Beecher.

Landry rolled his eyes. “Yes.”

“Sure you know what those words mean, kid?” Keller asked.

Landry glared at him momentarily, then turned to Beecher. “There was something
else I wanted to ask you about, actually. Can I talk to you alone for a sec?”

Keller looked to his partner and received a reassuring nod. He walked out of the
pod with a last warning look at Landry.

“What’s up?”

Landry pushed gracefully off the floor and took a seat beside Beecher. “I wanted
to talk to you about my appeal,” he began slowly.

“Oh, that,” shrugged Beecher. “It’s done.”

Landry blinked. “What?”

“Yeah. I filed it three days ago. It’ll take some time for the verdict to come back,
of course, but--.”

“Wait, you mean you already did it?”

Beecher gave him a curious look. “Yes.”

“Is it too late to change it?” Landry asked in alarm.

“Why? Do you think I missed something? That ADA, Cabbot, helped me out,
unofficially of course. I think you’ve really got a chance. Honestly.”

“Shit!” Landry lowered his head into his hands.

Not the reaction I expected. Beecher furrowed his brow in confusion.
“Okay. What’s wrong now?”

“What happens if they grant my appeal?” Landry asked anxiously.

“Well,” Beecher said with a frown, “They’ll either send the case back to a lower
court for a retrial, or they’ll overturn the verdict and pronounce you innocent.”

“So I could still get convicted again, even if the appeal succeeds?”

“Maybe,” said Beecher carefully. “If they send the case back to a lower court, it
will be because they want some change in the way the trial was run. They’ll give you a
lesser charge, or try you as a minor, or ban certain evidence. Something like that. So
you’d have a better chance of winning a retrial.”

“I’d come back to Oz, right? If I got convicted?” Landry asked. His brown eyes
bore into Beecher’s blue ones, pleading for the right answer.

What is wrong with him? It’s like he wants to stay in Oz.
“Probably not. If you’re convicted on a lesser charge, you might not have to go to
maximum security. And if you’re tried as a minor, you’ll go to a juvenile detention
facility. And that’s in Mississippi. If they try you as a minor, than so will New York.”

Landry grew tenser with each word Beecher spoke. “Take it back,” he said
suddenly.

“What?” said Beecher incredulously.

“The appeal. Unfile it or whatever.”

I do not believe this. “I can’t take back an appeal, Ben. Even if I could, what
would be the point? You want to get out of Oz, don’t you?” Landry didn’t answer; he
looked at the floor. No, thought Beecher. Why in the hell would he want to
stay? Unless… No. I wouldn’t stay just to be with Chris. And who does he have who’s
worth throwing his life away for? Not Schillinger. Not… Cyril? “Ben,” Beecher
finally managed. “You do want to get out, don’t you?”

“So there’s nothing you can do about the appeal?” Landry asked dully.

“Even if I could, I wouldn’t.”

Landry glanced up at Beecher, his eyes burning with anger. “Fine.” He strode out
of the pod without looking back.

After a moment, Keller wandered back inside. “What was that all about?” he asked
mildly.

“To tell you the truth,” said Beecher, “I have no idea.”
**************

Oz: Kitchen

Abel Finnessey caught Ryan O’Reilly’s eye as he followed the serving line. “Can
I talk to you?”

Ryan nodded briefly toward the back, and Finnessey abandoned his tray, walking
around the counter to meet O’Reilly behind a shelf of canned goods.

“I need a favor,” Finnessey said without preamble.

“What?” O’Reilly asked curiously.

“You heard that my sister was murdered.”

“Yeah.”

“I need the killer dead.”

O’Reilly gave a low whistle. “That’s a big fucking favor.” But could also be a
good business opportunity.

“I can pay.”

“That’s a start.” O’Reilly grinned.

Finnessey looked puzzled. “What else?”

“Your little buddy Landry.”

“What about him?” Finnessey asked suspiciously.

“I want him to rat out Schillinger.”

Finnessey laughed. “He won’t.”

“Maybe,” said O’Reilly with a shrug.

Finnessey looked at O’Reilly quizzically for a moment, then said, “If I get him to,
can we do business?”

O’Reilly grinned. “Yes.”

“Fine. I’ll let you know.” Finnessey walked casually back to his tray, flashing a
disarming smile at a hack who gave him a suspicious look.

O’Reilly wandered back to supervise the serving line. Liam Meaney came to
stand beside him. “What did he want?” he asked

“Business. But he might be able to help us with our Cajun situation.”

Meaney raised an eyebrow. “You mean arrange an accident? Good idea to send a
mutant against another mutant.”

“No, not that,” said O’Reilly. “I mean get the little shit to give up Schillinger.
That way Schillinger will be in solitary, maybe death row if we can prove they tried to
kill him. And if the Aryans take out Landry in revenge, well…” He shrugged.

“What about your brother?” asked Meaney after a moment.

O’Reilly looked at him sharply. “My brother is my business. I’ll take care of
him.” If I have to, I’ll take care of them both.