Augustus: Stratification. There's no escaping it in society. Everybody everywhere is placed in different classes. Sure, the good old US of A tries to be less class oriented than say, India, with its rigid caste system, but no matter how subtle or secret we try to keep the layers, they're still there. There are classes for economic prowess, social standing, and political clout. Every office has a class system, there are the executives, the managers, and the peon, proletariat workers. Government has the executive, legislative, and judicial branches, and each one of those breaks down and filters lower and lower. Take the judicial branch for example, you've got the supreme court, then you've got regular old judges, then lawyers, then criminals, some of whom end up here in Oz. Shit, man, even nature follows a class system. Take wolves for example. They've got an alpha dog, then a beta, then a submissive whose actual job is to get kicked around by the rest of the pack as much as they want.

So if everywhere else has a class system for deciding who stands where, why should the microcosm of Oz be any different? The question you have to ask though, is HOW do you determine who's on top, and who's on the bottom? See, you probably think that the warden is at the top of the ladder here in Oz, but you'd be wrong. I'm not talking about the general control and maintenance of this fine state facility, I'm talking about her denizens, the murderers, rapists, thieves, and dealers who make up the population of this fine state facility. All prisons have a pecking order, same as the outside world, and in Oz, and Em City, it follows the same rules as others.

Cop Killers, they are the cream of the crop in any correctional facility. Anyone who had the balls and inclination to kill one of them is almost always instantly granted automatic respect. Hell, they're damn near revered, they took out one of them. But you don't get too many cop killers roaming the halls, they're a rare breed, for obvious reasons. Then, you got your regular killers. But that's not including mass murderers or serial killers, see, they're considered crazy, and are mostly just left alone. But a guy who took the life of another man, he gets his due, and he's not someone to be fucked with. Also up at the highest echelon you've got your gangsters. They get tons of room and respect because they run with a crowd, usually a tough one. And any head of an organization is going to get more privileges than one of his own in the lower ranks. And any head of an organization who has the audacity to kill another man, well, you can imagine how much power he's going to instantly have. But then, you got the uglier crimes too. Rape. That doesn't usually sit well with the other prisoners. Rapists can look forward to having a rather difficult time while they are incarcerated at Oz. But even worse, baby-rapers. Yeah, that's right. See, most guys in prison have kids, or want kids. Pedophiles, molesters, they are really gonna pay a heavy price for their crime while doing time. And anyone dumb and gutless enough to kill a kid, they get no measure of respect, and absolutely no authority. Ha, funny isn't it? Even a place like Oz can have some sense of absolute evil.

But that leaves one question. If guys who kill cops are put at the top of the ladder because of the severe hatred for police authority, what would happen if a cop had to walk through the doors of Oz, not as a cop anymore, but as a prisoner?

Kellerman looks at the hand in front of him and then raises his eyes to look defiantly back at McManus without offering his and refuses to greet the man.

"The warden himself requested you be placed in Emerald City, out of gen pop for your own protection."

"I can take care of myself just fine"

"Well, he'd feel more comfortable with you in here, and most of the guys seem to prefer Em city to gen pop anyway."

"Whatever."

"Ah, you may even be pleased to know that a couple of acquaintances of yours are already here. See, the warden likes to keep all cops out of gen pop. And we go to great pains to keep the fact that you were a cop a secret. However, the guys to tend to have a knack for discovering information."

"I don't care who knows I was cop. I should still be cop. I didn't do anything wrong."

McManus clears his throat and looks down at the floor. "Yeah, well, but you aren't a cop anymore, you're here. And the other prisoners have no love lost for police officers. Tell them whatever you want, but Lewis is trying to keep his past under wraps, doesn't want any unnecessary trouble."

"Lewis is here?" Mike was shocked and disconcerted by that. The one thing he had been relieved about was that he thought he'd never have to Lewis again. The hellish year of Lewis' coldness toward him had been hard enough, but then when Stivers let the other shoe drop, the heat from his former partner had been tremendous. All through the trial he had been there with angry, accusing eyes. He wouldn't defend Kellerman in the least. He hadn't actually ever testified against Mike, and Kellerman didn't understand that. He was so pissed of at him, so unforgiving, he could have simply turned state's evidence with Stivers and wiggled off the hook himself. But he never did. In return, Kellerman kept the whole beating a secret too. But it wasn't something that either man had done out of fondness for the other. It was simply because they refused to break the code of honor concerning fellow officers. Both preferred the thought of doing time to sinking even deeper and giving up another piece of precious grace.

"Uh, yes. Just like you, the governor thought it would be in his best interest to not be sent to Jessup, which is filled with men that you guys put there. Your case didn't make national news, and with the added protection of Em City, you were both sent here. No one here knows you, Kellerman, other than Lewis."

"Well, don't worry, he and I aren't exactly going to be pals in here. Besides, he doesn't have long to serve."

Augustus: Prisoner 98K422. Michael Kellerman. Baltimore Homicide detective. Convicted November 24, 1998 for voluntary manslaughter. Sentenced to 10 years, eligible for parole in 3.

McManus leads Kellerman out of his office along the catwalk overlooking Em city and towards his pod. Kellerman doesn't bother to look around at his new surroundings as McManus points out specific designated areas. He'll have plenty of time to get to know the place. Plus, he is not feigning a tough, who cares attitude merely for the benefit of posturing before the other inmates. He truly doesn't care anymore. He is not sad, he is not remorseful. His heart is not pounding with fear or apprehension. He is full of rage at the society and system that sent him here to wallow amongst these deviant cons. But even that hate is burning less hot with each passing day. The fire is slowly being snuffed, and he knows that there is nothing to fill its space. When it has burned to completion, it will have either taken him with it, claimed his as its quarry, engulfing his body in its flames, or left him with a gaping, vacuous space where he used to store his reserve of pride, dignity, and grace.

"Here's your pod,…"

"Pod?" Kellerman snarks at Tim. "You make it sound like something from Invasion of the Body Snatchers."

His future bunk mate, Tobias Beecher, suddenly appears behind him and places his head too close to Kellerman's and whispers, "Within a few weeks, you'll be praying for some sort of alien creature to overtake your body while you sleep."

Kellerman instantly pulls away and puts more space between himself and Beecher and casts a dubious look at him. He senses immediately that there is something very wrong with this man. "Who the fuck asked you?"

"Ha Ha Ha," Beecher throws back his head laughing at the new man. "Tough guy, huh? Sorry I startled you like that. So, McManus, this my new roomie?" He asks the question with mock cheeriness as he throws himself onto the bottom bunk with a relish.

McManus answers him wearily, "Yes, Beecher, Kellerman here will be staying in here with you." He glances down into the pit and spies an inmate he wishes to speak to about his lack of enthusiasm for his new job in the kitchen. "Look, I have to go. Beecher, show Kellerman around."

Beecher leers up at Kellerman as McManus glides away. "You know, I'm kind of glad to have a roommate again. I was in the hole for nearly a month. Gets pretty lonely in there."

Kellerman nods dstractedly, "Yeah, fine, so I guess I should take the top bunk? It makes no difference to me, but you look pretty comfortable there."

"No, actually, I like to be on top," he replies as he deliberately picks himself up off the bed and walks close to Kellerman again. Mike refuses to step back again, and instead stands his ground looking Beecher directly in the eye. "So, don't you wanna know what I was in solitary for?"

"Not particularly."

"Well, I'd like you to know."

"Whatever."

"See, I was a bad boy," he tilts his head but keeps eye contact. "I was supposed to nicely suck another man's dick for him, but I didn't want to, so see, instead of getting him off, I bit it off." He searches Mike's face for a sign of shock, disgust, fear, anything. But Kellerman's expression doesn't waver one bit.

"Well, good for you."

Beecher is mildly surprised. "You aren't afraid of me now?"

"No."

"Why not?"

This time Kellerman is the one to move closer and invade Beecher's space. He never looks away from the other man's eyes as he simply replies, "Because I have no intention of asking you, or anyone else, to suck my cock."

Beecher steps back and throws back his head in wild laughter. "Alright then. We've got us a real straight arrow on our hands here, huh? Well, that's just fine by me. But I'm just warning you right now, after a few months here in Emerald City, you may not be so self righteous anymore. But I never want you to forget what I just told you, got that? I'm not going to be anyone's bitch ever again, understood?" He pokes Kellerman in the chest as he finishes speaking.

Kellerman looks down at the finger in his chest, then back up to Beecher's face. "Look, I don't want a bitch, or a herm, or anything, ok. But I also suggest you keep your fucking hands to yourself. Got that?" He sneers at the other man. Beecher's only reply is to begin cackling again, then he walks away, heads down the catwalk, then into the pit below to play checkers as Kellerman is left to inspect the cramped, damp, brick and glass cubicle that would now be his home. As he looks over at the tiny sink in the corner, he chuckles lightly as he favorably compares it to the size of the sink on his boat, then suddenly stops. The simmering in his stomach suddenly blanches as he thinks wistfully of his boat, sold months ago to help pay for his mounting legal fees. He looks around the room again with utter dread as he realizes for the first time that he won't be able to kick off his shoes and dangle his feet in the Chesapeake after a long day. He will not be casting a line for several years. His life is now confined to this space. A bed, a sink, and three walls, with a glass door for the last bit of privacy and dignity to be stripped away. For the first time since he had fired his gun at Mahoney, he truly regrets his actions.

In the workout room:

"Lewis!"

Meldrick snaps his head away from the punching bag in front of him to look in the direction of the voice that called him.

Augustus: Prisoner 98L298, Meldrick Lewis. Baltimore Homicide detective. Convicted Setember 18, 1998 for obstruction of justice, accessory after the crime, and aiding and abetting a criminal. Sentenced to 3 years, eligible for parole in 1.

Meldrick turns to see Jake Rodsinski glide up near him. "Hey, man, you almost done? I'm going to get a shower."

Lewis nods, "Yeah, I'm wit' ya, Jakey boy." He begins to pull the gloves off, tired of punishing his body for the day. "I'm pretty ripe myself, could use a good scrubbing 'fore dinner."

"Hey, he's here now."

"Who?"

Jake leans in even closer and lowers his voice conspiratorially, "Kellerman. He got here today. He got 10 years, man."

Lewis looks up at his longtime friend quizzically. "Why'd they send his ass here?" Rodzinski's only reply is to raise his eyebrows and drop his chin slightly, knowing Lewis will soon realize the idiocy of his own question. "Oh, yeah, I see your point. Well, fuck it, long as he stays outta my face." He shrugs and drops the gloves in a bin as the two men head out down the hallway.

"Fucker. Now he's gonna pay."

Lewis looks at Jake with open concern as they stroll lazily down the corridor. There was no reason to rush in Oz, they really didn't have anywhere that important to go. "What're you talking 'bout, Jake?"

Rodzinski turns on other man quickly and points his finger in Lewis' chest. "Look, I know he was your partner, but you're here because of him too."

"Hey, I got no love left for that sorry mook, but I ain't about to go start shit wit' 'em niether. I don't want no damn trouble here, Jake, I just wanna get the fuck outta here soon as I can."

Jake bristles at that. "You mean away from me." Lewis sighs and deliberately looks up and down the empty hall to ensure they are alone.

"No, that's not what I mean, and you know that," he pleads softly as he leans close to Jake again. "I just don't wanna spend more time in here than need be." His eyes flutter nervously up and down the hall again before leaning in and placing a soft kiss on the other man's lips and gently grabbing his hand, then pulling back quickly.

"I don't want you to either. I'm just gonna be lonely when you leave. I'm gonna miss you." He falls silent for a second as Lewis gins at him mischievously, but then quickly pulls himself back together as Kellerman again enters his mind. "Kellerman is the one who put me in here in the first place. That fucking hypocrite treated me like scum, then was dumb enough to do the same thing. It's his fault I'm here, and I'm going to make that self- righteous bastard pay for it."

"Jake, man, what do you propose to do, huh? You ain't got that much longer to be in here either, but if you go off acting like some sort of hot head, picking fights with his scrawny ass, you've never gonna make parole. You want that?"

"No, but I won't have to pick the fights. The way I figure it, all's I have to do is drop some information to the right people about who exactly he really is, then he'll have enough trouble on his hands, I won't even have to say a single word to him, let alone do him in myself."

Lewis steps further back from Jake. "Man, are you crazy? You go shootin off your mouth 'bout him, and it's liable to come back and bite you, and ME in the ass. If people start diggin', how long you think it's gonna be 'fore they figure out that I was a cop too. And don't forget that you were an esteemed colleague of mine on the force for a number of years. You'll end up getting us killed in the deal too."

"You think Kellerman will roll on us if he's discovered?"

"Huh, honestly? I don't think he'd ever rat my ass out. He had plenty a chances to do that already, but he didn't. But you, my man, yeah, he's a vengeful little bastard when he wants to be, and he got no loyalty to you."

"Well, then I guess I'll just have to rethink my plan a bit."

"What you need to do," Lewis leans in and wags a finger playfully in Jake's face, "is forget about your lame-brained plan altogether, my man."

Jake looks at his ally and a sly grin creeps across his sculpted features, revealing perfectly aligned teeth. Lewis can't help but notice the perfection of his smile and thinks to himself that in different circumstances, the man in front of him could have turned out to be a movie star, or at least a model for toothpaste commercials. "Come on, man, this hall is even starting to stink we smell so bad, lets get a shower."

Lewis eyes him in mock suspicion. "Alright, maybe it won't be too busy in there dis time of day."

As he walked down the hallway next to the only other person he would permit himself to invest any trust in in this whole decrepit place, he felt small pangs of guilt tugging at his conscience. He was glad to have Jake here with him, and knew Jake felt the same. They went back many years, and plenty of good times. Lewis had always felt an attraction to Jake, but he had never acted on it until a few months ago when they got reacquainted here in Oz. He had always had a sublime feeling that Jake felt the same way, although no overt signs were displayed. He had always brushed the thoughts out of his mind as quickly as they appeared, telling himself he was crazy, not because he had an affinity for Rodzinski, but because Jake was married and Lewis had assumed he was completely straight, and merely misinterpreting signals. But once Lewis' luck steered him back into daily contact with Jake, he realized that his ignored suspicions had been correct, that Jake was indeed interested in him as more than a friend. They were both careful and discreet about their liaison, not out of shame, but merely for personal protection. But the past couple of days, Lewis began to realize there may be complications he hadn't counted on. He was not in love with Jake, and knew he never would be. But now he feared that despite having a lovely, caring, and devoted wife who would be waiting for Jake once he finished his sentence, Jake would be drawn back to Lewis. He was rapidly becoming aware of the fact that Rodzinski was falling in love with him.

Kellerman plods through the line to get his food, aware of the stares and conversation about him going on, but also indifferent to it. He had made the mistake of trusting people before, and any idiot knows that prison is the one place you don't want to rely on anyone to watch your back. He simply doesn't want any *friends* anymore. They always let him down, or abandoned him when he needed them the most. And yes, he is bitter about it.

His whole life, Kellerman was given every reason to not trust anyone, but he kept on giving his friendship easily even after he perpetually got burned. Growing up, his parents were strict and distant, primarily concerned with his older brothers who were more than trouble. His brothers were charcoal briquettes running through a gasoline dump. He should have learned early on to disentangle from them, but he never stopped wanting to make them accept him. He had a younger sister he could have doted over, but instead he kept trying to keep up with his brothers, and kept facing the penalties. Eventually, he did learn that even though he wanted to impress them, he just couldn't do the rotten and stupid things they did.

But his parents were already convinced that he'd turn out to be a disappointment just like the other two, and shifted their affection to his sister, for whom he developed an unbridled resentment. He sought out friends, and luckily, had a quick wit and outrageous sense of fun that drew others to him. His wild streak helped him cultivate associates that were less than reliable though, so whenever eventual trouble would roll around, he always seemed to find himself facing the music as the sole conductor. He was deeply wounded every time someone would turn their back to him, but rather than close himself off, he'd just go rushing like a puppy dog after someone new.

Girls flocked to him, thanks to his habit of pumping iron that gave him an enviable physique, but none ever seemed to stick around for long. He never understood it. He was never cruel, or abusive. In fact, when a girl would send his heart fluttering, he'd damn near treat her like a princess, showering her with attention and affection, taking her wherever she wanted, always letting her pick the movie. But they always seemed to end up with someone a bit taller, a bit stronger, with a bit nicer car, whatever. Until Annie. God, he fell so hard for her, and she was the first person who seemed to actually return his love. But within a year of marriage, he caught her cheating on him. Even his love had betrayed him.

From there, things got even worse. He had a rocky affair with the ME, but try as he might, when he tried to push forward, she'd back off. Then he'd punish her by doing the same to her. It was an ugly game that never really came to resolution, and when he needed her the most, she simply packed up her bags and left town.

And then the crippling blow was Meldrick. Just like he had his entire life, he gave everything he could to Lewis. True, Lewis did come through for him in his darkest hour and saved his life, but looking back, Kellerman still couldn't determine if that was really such a good thing. And apparently, life wasn't like baseball. Meldrick wasn't willing to give a second strike, let alone a third, and after that wretched night, he backed off from Kellerman in every way possible.

So Kellerman did what any other person who desperately fears being alone would do. He committed the one act that nearly everyone on the face of the earth decries as the most ugly and unforgiveable travesty that a human being can do. He murdered another man.

Certainly, there were mitigating factors, but the bottom line was that now, no one, not Meldrick, not Annie, not his parents, were willing to extend a single bit of love, compassion, or loyalty to him.

Yes, it had taken him 34 years, but he had finally learned that he couldn't trust anyone, and for the first time, he wasn't willing to try.

He doesn't want trouble either, he just wants to be left alone. So he chooses a seat as far removed from others as possible. Just as he begins to push a forkful of bland potatoes in his mouth, a husky white man sits down across from him. "Hey," the man's deep voice announces, "I'm Vern. Vern Schillinger. Your name's Kellerman right?"

"Yeah," Mike answers laconically.

"So, I hear you're bunking with Beecher."

"Yeah."

"Well, don't let him give you any shit, you know. I mean, he's a crazy fuck, but if you let him push you around, you won't last around here for a week, and I always hate to see one of our own go down."

"One of your own? Excuse me," Mike sneers.

"Ah," Schillinger explains, "I'm the head of the Aryan Brotherhood here. We just like to watch the backs of our own."

"My back will be just fine, thanks anyway."

"Hey, I'm just trying to be a friend to you here, pal, our kind has to stick together in here, you know what I'm saying" he raises his eyebrows and nods in the direction of the Muslims sitting at the next table.

"I know exactly what you're saying. You don't seem to hear what I'm saying. I don't need to stick with anyone, especially not 'you're kind', got it?"

Schillinger allows his eyes to deliberately move from table to table, even craning his neck to accentuate the gesture. If nothing else, Kellerman knows he is making it obvious to everyone else what they are talking about, and he grows rapidly more irritated. Then Schillinger makes a point to verbally identify every group cloistered together. "See those are the Latinos", Shillinger spits out the word, making it obvious it isn't his preferred descriptive adjective for the group, "Miguel and his pals ain't gonna do shit for you. Then you've got Shibetta and his crew, the Italians, it doesn't look as though you fit their requirements either. Hmm, and oh, yes, the Muslims, unless you plan on dropping to your knees 3 times a day and facing East, I don't foresee you getting in tight with their clique either. So maybe you ought to consider your options before you sit there so high and mighty, condemning me, Kellerman."

Mike has lost any last reserve of patience he had by now. No, he doesn't want trouble, but he sure as hell isn't going to start getting intimidated on his first fucking day either. His face falls into an angelic smile, "I don't condemn you, Vern?, isn't it? I think guys like you are great. You know why?"

"Why?" Schillinger is completely aware that Kellerman is now mocking him, but he waits for him to dig his own grave. If he doesn't want his help, fuck him.

"Because guys like you are shining examples to the rest of the human race of just how idiotic we can be. Some people, you know, they go to great lengths to hide their ignorance and prejudice, but you just love to flaunt it, don't you. Guys like you are easy to deal with, because you know exactly what you're in store for from the start. Guys like you are easy marks, Vern."

"Alright Kellerman, but I'm warning you, you're making a big mistake here."

"Whatever."

Just then, as Schillinger was rising to go sit with the rest of the Aryan brotherhood, Beecher and an old man stroll up behind him. "Hey, Vern, I see you've met my new bunkmate."

"Yeah, well, you enjoy him Beecher. You two enjoy each other, you deserve each other."

"How's the eye, Vern?" Beecher taunts the bigger man brazenly.

"Fucking nut case," Schillinger mutters as he walks away.

"What was that all about?" Kellerman inquires against his better judgement as Beecher and the old man sit down in Shillinger's vacated seat.

"Oh, nothing, I used to share a pod with old Vern. I think he misses me, don't you Bob?" The old man simply hovers over his tray and drives his fork into waiting corn.

"Is that the guy whose dick you bit off, then?"

"No, that's the guy whose eye I nearly took out," Beecher responds proudly.

Kellerman stares blankly at the man in front of him, trying to make up his mind. It was a quick and easy decision, and suddenly he catches himself laughing in spite of himself. "You are one crazy fuck, aren't you?"

"Yeah. I am now," Beecher responds with pride.

"Alright then. That's cool, man." It is now that Kellerman realizes what is happening. He is doing it again. In spite of everything he had been through, all the rejection he had suffered, and all the promises and preparations he had made before coming into this god-forsaken place, he is making a friend.

"So, Kellerman, guess what?"

"Huh?"

"Bob here, oh, where are my manners, Bob, this is Kellerman. Bob here knows something about you."

"Yeah, how's that? I've never even seen you before, man?"

The old man raises his head to look at Mike squarely for the first time, then succinctly replies, "Because God told me."

"Really? Is that so? You mean THE God? Or just A god?"

Beecher answers for Bob. "I know, it sounds crazy, but it's true, God talks to Bob all the time, seriously."

"Whatever."

"So, you wanna know what God told him?"

"Sure. That I hate this fucking food?"

Bob leans across the table and motions for Kellerman to do the same. He lowers his head and looks at the old man. "You're a cop. You were a homicide detective, but you killed someone, and got sent here."

Every bit of color drains from Mike's face and his heart begins to palpitate quickly. How the fuck do they know? Has Lewis already ratted him out? He knows he has to remain calm. "I don't know what you're talking about. I wasn't.."

"You're a terrible liar too. Don't bother trying. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone else. I just don't like to keep secrets from people when they concern them."

Kellerman glances over at Beecher who is swallowing a mouthful of mashed potatoes. "I'm not going to tell anyone either. I don't care. I used to be someone too. It doesn't matter who or what you were out there. But if others do find out, ho ho, man, you're fucked. Literally, and figuratively."

Meldrick Lewis is what most people would call an enigma. A riddle wrapped in a mystery. He is a very solitary man by choice and destiny. He has plenty of buddies, and is well liked by nearly everyone he ever comes in contact with. He has a natural charm and laid back nature that make him exceedingly approachable, and yet, he has no one he considers a true friend. He rarely lets anyone get into his head, and even more rarely invites people into his heart. For such a friendly, affable man, underneath that gregarious exterior, his heart is tightly sealed.

The strange thing is, Meldrick himself doesn't really know why he's so emotionally protective. He hadn't had an ugly childhood, nor nasty parents. To the contrary, although he grew up poor and in the ghetto, his mother showered him with love and attention. She also taught him the value of education, kept him off the hard streets, and encouraged him in his ventures. Most importantly, she had given him a strong moral backbone, and couldn't have been prouder when he pulled himself out of ghetto life to become one of the good guys, a cop. He had never been teased or bullied growing up either. Although he refused to run with the gangs, no one ever gave Meldrick Lewis trouble, because his physical prowess was obvious to even a casual observer. He could take care of himself. And he was never shunned or rejected by girls either. In fact, his good looks played off his charm perfectly and he could take his pick of nearly any female he chose. And he chose plenty. And he enjoyed them all. He could still let his mind drift back to his teen years and prattle off the names and picture the faces of every young philly he ever cuddled with. His mom had instilled many things in him, and one of them was to never abuse, or use, a woman, instead respect them.

Even at such a young age though, he knew that his desires for sex were not solely confined to women. It didn't bother him when he realized that he found men equally appealing, but he was terrified of anyone else finding out. He wasn't ashamed, but he felt it was something he ought to keep secret because he didn't want to deal with the societal ramifications of openly dating men. Besides, why should he bother? He was also perfectly happy to wine and dine beautiful women. He never felt a gaping hole or insatiable longing to be with another man. He just knew that if opportunities ever presented themselves, and he found the other man attractive, he wouldn't say no either. But it wasn't something he was willing to seek out. The price on his career could be cataclysmic, and he had other intentions. He was young, smart, and dedicated. He knew he was good police, and he was going to prove it by becoming the best of the best.

His emotional reticence had never been a problem for him. In fact, he had never even noticed it. It had never occurred to him that he desperately needed someone to confide in. Lewis wasn't the sort of man who needed to unburden his soul. He was the kind of guy who could roll with whatever hand life dealt him, and usually find a way to improve his hand, or at least bluff his way through the game. He never adopted an angry response to injustices heaved upon him, nor did he wallow in sorrow. It wasn't until the suicide of his partner that he realized how vacuous his existence truly was. He looked at Crosseti, his buddy, his amigo. Dead, probably because the loneliness of his own life and the decaying world around him had become too much to bear, and saw himself in 20 years. It wasn't the bloated, haunting visage of Crosseti that kept him awake at night, it was the realization that if he continued down the same path, his fate would be the same. But that only pushed him farther back into his own shell, and he distanced himself from others even more.

When he got a new partner, a brash, young, blonde, exuberant man named Kellerman, he told himself to stay very far away from this guy. He didn't want to become friends with a partner who was going to leave him, or betray him, or hurt him. Unfortunately, his plan failed miserably. Little by little, day by day, wisecrack, by wisecrack, Kellerman bored a line straight to Lewis' deepest core. He was terrified when he became aware of his feelings for his partner. Not only had he become attached as a friend, his longtime denied proclivities reared their unrequited head and had fallen in love. So he did what any other man afraid of serious commitment would do. He ran out and got married. That slowly unfolded into a mild disaster, while at the same time, his partner began walking a dangerous line. As usual, Meldrick carried the weight of the blame squarely on his own shoulders, refusing to lash out his wife, and doing what he could to help his friend. He never whined, never pitied himself, and woke to face each day with strength and certitude.

Then, when things culminated in unforeseen tragedy, he tried to keep the imminent repercussions at bay. He removed himself completely from his partner and wife emotionally and physically, to once again retreat into his comfortable shell of solitude. He had tried to protect everyone, but ultimately, his attempts were in vain, and the inevitable came to fruition. He took slight solace in the fact that his partner tried to keep Meldrick out of the mess, even though he had so harshly abandoned the other man.

And so Meldrick accepts his fate now as he has everything else in his life. He isn't willing to shovel blame or responsibility on others. Yes, sometimes people get bad breaks, but for the most part, he knows that we are all responsible for our own lives and our own happiness. He accepts this turn as one other thing he will simply have deal with and make the best of.

And that's what he now thinks as he looks at Jake. Jake was not to blame if he fell in love with Meldrick, and he would have to deal with that. He only feels pangs of guilt now because he realizes he is still in love with Kellerman, and how badly that will hurt Jake if he knows. But there is no reason for Jake to ever know. Meldrick is a practical man, and he knows full well that Kellerman is straight as they come. He will never bother professing his love to the man, not only because he would be assured of rejection, but also because it would only serve to heap more guilt on Kellerman for being unable to return the affection. Even after all the shit they've put each other through, he doesn't want to hurt Mike anymore.

So they head down the hall and into the shower area. A large, open area affording little measure of privacy. As they are undressing in the outer room they can hear water running inside the shower. Both of them are silent as they strip, stealing only furtive glances at the other. As Meldrick pulls his shirt over his head, Jake takes in the details of his upper body. The rich hue of his skin, his exceptionally defined triceps. The tiny puffs of hair that sprout from his chest, which create small, dark shadows across the top of his pecs, but then narrow into a single thin line that runs invitingly down his stomach. It is interrupted by his navel, but then continues the same taunting line down further, leading directly to his groin. He is jarred when he hears the water turn off in the other room, and quickly averts his gaze. He hears the sloshing footsteps of someone approaching them, and turns to see Adebisi exiting the shower room, a towel wrapped around his midsection, but his customary hat still sitting on his head lopsided. Adebisi casts a sidelong glance at the other two men, and nods at Jake. "What the fuck, Adebisi, you even wear that fucking thing I the shower?"

"Adebisi wears it whenever he likes, shower or no," he answers and allows his face to open into a terrifying smile. His eyes are glazed, he is obviously stoned. Lewis casts a look at Jake as he removes his pants quickly and heads in toward the shower room, but Jake lingers briefly outside with the huge man.

Lewis shakes his head as he grabs a towel and enters the shower area, wondering to himself what it exactly it is about this world that makes everybody so fucked up. He knows what is going on out there. Chagrined as he is by it, he also doesn't know what to do stop the situation from progressing. Jake had recently begun sucking tits. And right now, he relies on Adebisi to find him and supply with the tits. It isn't a constant or chronic problem for Jake yet, but Lewis knows it will only be a matter of time until he is a full blown junkie like Adebisi. And even more likely, shortly Adebisi would somehow fuck Jake around, and he would be forced to not only make a new connection for his supply of narcotics, but also to take some measure of vengeance upon Adebisi. Lewis ruefully mulls his options as he turns on the shower and steps back from the sudden blast of cold water. He adjusts the temperature to make it lukewarm, he doesn't want it hot yet, he is still cooling down from working out, and it feils refreshing to keep it a bit cooler. He dips his head under the strong spray and sighs to himself, resigning himself to the fact that yet again, he is gonna have to suck it up and intervene before Jake is in a world of damage.

He stands perfectly still allowing the water to fall onto his head, enjoying the sensation as the cooling, soothing water runs down his back, and slowly trickles down his legs. Without warning he feels a hand on the middle of his back, but he does not jump with a start. He remains perfectly still, knowing it is Jake, probably freshly high, and coming to apologize for it. Lewis puts his arms out straight in front of him, and braces his hands on the wall tiles, and continues to let the water wash over his bowed head. This simple action makes his triceps flex, and Jake can't resist letting his hand roam from Lewis' back, over his shoulder, and across the defined arm. "Jake, man, you gotta stop this shit."

"Ah, come one, I'm just getting started here," he whispers in Lewis' ear and provocatively runs his other hand over Meldrick's firm buttock. He notices Meldrick tense unwillingly under his touch, and grins in satisfaction.

"That's not what I'm talking about. I mean getting stoned all 'da time. It's no good. You gonna end up an addict, like Adebisi. 'Fore long, you be fuckin jonesin for 'da shit."

"Relax, Meldrick. That's not gonna happen. I just like to catch a little buzz every now and again. If it bothers you, I won't do it around you anymore, ok?" He keeps one hand firmly in place on Meldrick's arm, while the one on his ass snakes around in front of him and lightly runs down his stomach. Meldrick can't repress a small sigh from escaping from his mouth as the hand slowly inches lower. He feels Jake's solid, wide chest press up against his back, then feels his hard cock come to rest against the top up his thigh, just below his ass.

His head swims with thoughts of getting caught. Anyone could walk in, a guard, another prisoner. 'Shit,' Meldrick thinks, 'Kellerman could come stalking into this room any second.' That thought only heightens his desire though. As Jake puts one arm firmly around Meldrick's chest to draw them even tighter together, his other hand moves even lower down his stomach until it finds what it is seeking. By pulling Lewis back towards him more, Lewis' front is now fully exposed to the driving water from the shower. It rains down on his chest, washing the last of workout induced sweat from him. Then Meldrick leans back even further, pressing his back into Jake's chest, and thrusting his pelvis forward into the forceful stream. The combination of the water falling directly on his hard cock with Jake's hand gliding slowly up and down its length is nearly unbearable for him. He has to stop now, because he won't be able to control himself if this continues for a few more moments.

He forces himself to think of the humiliation he will face if they are caught together like this, and swiftly voices his protest. "Jake, don't, what if someone comes. . ."

The sentence is unfinished because Jake responds by breathing heavily into his ear, and lapping his tongue around its perimeter, as he increases the pressure of his hold on Meldrick's cock. He feels Jake's hand leave his chest and settle behind him, behind his ass. He feels Jake's hand on his erection, moving firmly, but the strokes are not straight. Jake keeps twisting his hand back and forth as it moves slowly up and down, creating a two way friction, every once in a while allowing it to slide nearly all the way off the tip, and giving strong squeezes on the tip before dipping back down. Meldrick feels Jake's hand behind him mirroring the same exact motion, and is aware that he is stroking himself in perfect unison with what he is doing to Meldrick. But as Meldrick has the cascading water as an added stimulant, Jake undulates his hips back and forth against Meldrick, allowing his own erection to press firmly against Lewis' buttocks for heightened stimulation.

When he hears a soft moan escape from Jake's mouth and nestle directly in his own ear, he uses his last bit of conscious thought to reach in front of him and turn the hot water on more, making the flow upon his erection not only hotter, but also more forceful. He writhes against Jake's chest as the sensation overwhelms him. He turns his head to try and catch Jake's mouth, which has been hovering near Meldrick's ear, panting into it. With his back pressed so firmly against the other man's chest, he can feel his accelerating heart rhythm as he allows his tongue to enter Jake's moist mouth. Lewis reaches an arm up behind him, and uses it to pull Jake's head even closer, so that he can more easily gain access and capture the other man's mouth fully.

Jake's stroking becomes noticeably harder and swifter, more demanding on both of them. His hips begin to thrust more frenetically, losing the slow, deliberate pace while gaining momentum. Jake breaks the kiss and buries his mouth into Meldrick's neck to muffle a moan.

Lewis steps forward a bit, and Jake begins to whine in protest, but Meldrick's strong arm around his head drags him along with him as he situates them squarely under the tumbling water. Now Jake can feel the warm liquid running down Meldrick's back and landing in tantalizing droplets upon his own engorged cock and hand. His thrusting becomes insistent, and his pulls on Meldrick's cock are as furious as his own. Meldrick allows his one hand to rest on Jake's in front of him, not guiding it, merely as encouragement, while he slides his free hand behind him and does the same as Jake pumps heatedly at his own member. He has no intention of slowing it down, making it last longer, teasing them both. He keeps heightening the pace and pressure with every stroke, his only intention of bringing them both to climax. The added presence of Meldrick's hand upon his own was the last bit of arousal he could bear, and he growls into Meldrick's ear his imminent fate. "Oh, god, Mel, I'm coming!" The hot breath and sudden admission drive Meldrick extremely close, and then Jake pumps his hips against Lewis' ass twice more while grinding his hand slowly down the length of his own shaft. Meldrick feels the body behind his shake and shudder, then go rigid, as the hand in front of him and behind him pull downward slowly, squeezing as tightly as dared. As he feels the thick, heated liquid upon his back, Meldrick needs only a few more strokes. He uses his own hand over Jake's to apply the still required pressure and motion, but after only a few wild thrusts, he feels his body flush with heat as every muscle tightens. He rises up on the balls of his feet, and throws his head back against Jake's shoulder as he comes in hot rush under the driving water.

The sensation of the pounding water upon his now spent cock quickly becomes unbearable and he turns around to face Jake and catch his mouth in a languid kiss. They soon realize how lucky they were to not be interrupted, and decide not press their collective luck. They part as Jake goes to the opposite side of the room to wash off in case any interlopers should appear.