~*~ The events of this story will incorporate external added elements from the author's imagination into the already rich and exhilarating canon narrative of the HBO original series, Oz. For the most part, the canon of the series will remain intact to preserve a sense of realism to the plot, while also being sensitive of the time flow of events occurring within Oz.

~*~ Although the characters to be featured are prominently factual in their given genre, they are the sole property of Tom Fontana and Barry Levinson, and are copyrighted to Rysher Entertainment and HBO. All original characters are of the author's creation and belong to him alone and, as with the rest of the story, may not be replicated or redistributed in any way without formal consent from said author.

~*~ Underage reading or any other illegalities is neither encouraged nor condoned in any way by the author. He also will not tolerate any form of plagiarism towards any of the words to come, as they are his and his alone. The principal objective is that of enjoyment and entertainment to you, the reader.

~*~ Address any type of question and/or feedback to jc71883@hotmail.com, making sure to add a relation to the story on the subject line of the e-mail to guarantee its reception.

 

 

Ryan O'Reily felt like he was walking through a dark and clouded maze with no knowledge or indication of time or direction. Something inside him was being pushed beyond its breaking point and it was dangerously close to fully invading him. Cyril's voice taunted him inside the shrouded maze and the darkness ridiculed him because he was always supposed to be in control. It was his personality type, yet he had seemed to be losing control of himself and his positioning inside Oz over the course of the past months. Maybe it was all in his head---or maybe it was the truth.

In Sister Pete's office, he silently sat as the nun and Dr. Nathan shared an awkward look between them. He did not feel like talking to them, but she was offering information about Seamus O'Reily. His arms were crossed at his chest and his eyes stared beyond the bars protecting the window to see the grayness outside. The Irishman knew they wanted more from him but it was too painful to think about.

"I'm so sorry, Ryan," Dr. Nathan said from somewhere close to him.

"What caused it?" was all he simply asked.

"Ryan, now might not be the best time---"

"There is no better time, Gloria. Tell me."

"He had a brain embolism and suffered from a massive stroke. His vitals were weak when they brought him in."

"How long was he suffering?" the Irishman asked.

"Not long. Maybe a half an hour before he was brought in. He was still alive when you saw him in the infirmary. Barely, but still alive. But the damage from the stroke had already taken its toll on his brain," she sadly said.

"You did everything you could?"

"I tried. It was too much for his body to handle."

"Solitary and the trial wore him down. It's like he couldn't fight anymore," O'Reily said.

"That could be a very real possibility," Sister Pete said. "Not every prisoner is mentally or emotionally equipped to handle the loneliness of Solitary confinement."

A beep went off and Dr. Nathan looked at its origin before she said, "I have to go. There's an emergency in the hospital. We can talk more about this later at work if you want, Ryan."

"I don't think so."

"Okay. I'll see you later then. Bye, Pete."

"We'll talk later, Gloria," she replied before Dr. Nathan left. "We're alone now, Ryan. So, talk to me."

He had been lying there in pain and had probably tried to call out for help for half an hour before the hacks finally had brought him in. The idea alone made O'Reily crazy, but he also knew that his father was not at the best health for his age. The stress from the trial and the possibility of being sent to death row had drained him. His father was gone and the last thing he wanted to do was talk about his feelings.

"About what?"

"I can set up some counseling sessions for you," Sister Pete said.

"No need. I'm good."

"Ryan---"

"What?" he snapped and said. "I don't need any goddamn sessions. He's dead. That's it. There's nothing else to talk about."

"I beg to differ. I really think they can help you deal with the loss of your father. You're hurting. Just like with Cyril."

"No!" O'Reily stood up and yelled out. "You don't get to say that to me. You don't get to bring him up. Not now."

"Ryan. Ryan."

The Irishman stormed out of the office because it was enough. He did not want to hear Cyril's name right now and was offended that the nun placed Seamus O'Reily in the same place his brother was. The hack outside walked him back to Em City and he knew Sister Pete's eyes were on him as he left. He did not want to be asked any more questions about his father because he was going to explode in a fit of anger and rage.

In his pod, O'Reily rested on his bed and looked up at the ceiling of the small cage as he waited for the routine of the day to continue. Lunch was going to be soon and then he had to work in the infirmary---the place where his father took his last breaths of life. Oz had claimed someone else from him and he was the last one left to succumb to its inevitable deadly grip. It was only a matter of time before Oz came back for him.

He sent Meaney on a meaningless errand just to have the pod to himself. When he had walked into Em City earlier, he had not noticed Alvarez and a part of him wondered where he was. Talking to the nun or Dr. Nathan was not an option, but he would not be against the idea of talking to Alvarez if they had found themselves alone. Aside from the sexual aspect, they had become friends. Maybe it was something even more than that, but now was not the time to analyze it. O'Reily shot up on the bed and his eyes saw red when he noticed who entered his pod.

"What the hell are you doing here? What do you want?" he angrily said.

"That's too bad about your father, honey," Torquemada said in that feminine way of his.

"Fucking call me that one more time," O'Reily almost demanded.

"Maybe you should take it as a sign."

"A sign? A sign of what?"

"That we should join forces to rule Oz," the predatory queen said.

He let out a hearty laugh and then said, "Get the fuck out my face with that shit."

"Why not? With us as partners, no one would stand a chance."

"You're getting desperate, aren't you, Alonzo?" O'Reily said after he easily read the man in his pod.

"I don't know what you mean. I will have control over Oz with or without you. I'm simply saying to put your dislike of me aside and see this opportunity for what it is."

"I don't need any opportunities from you. I make my own opportunities. Thought you'd have learned that by now."

O'Reily could easily see past the man's defenses to know that he was worried about his standing in Em City and the continued relevance of Destiny. It was the reason for this meeting and his proposition of them becoming partners after all. Calderón was making Torquemada nervous and he was trying to gather up everyone he could hold on to as a way of keeping his prominence with the other inmates. O'Reily laughed inside at the stench of desperation.

"Your drug is losing its effect in here. No one is taking you seriously anymore," the Irishman said.

"That's not true. Destiny has had a slight setback but will rise to the top again. You can't be that delusional."

"I'm not. That's the reason for this conversation, isn't it? You may think you're in control, but that's just another fairytale in your head."

"So, is that a no to my extremely generous offer of partnership?" Torquemada said with a face of stone.

"What do you think? It's not the best opportunity to jump on an already flaming and sinking ship now is it?"

"Was that a hit on my sexuality?"

"Only you think of yourself sexually," O'Reily dryly said. "I said a fact. Now get out of my pod before we have a real problem."

"You still let your unimaginative disdain of me cloud your judgment."

"You don't know just how unimaginative I can be. Get out."

Torquemada gave him a small smile and left him alone in the pod a very short while later. O'Reily watched the man walk away across the quad and was uneasy about his apparent desperation to control Em City. There was no way the Irishman would have accepted a deal to work with him and he had to have known that before approaching him to try to get it done. Something was not right because O'Reily felt that instinct in his stomach. The queen had a plan and was up to something.

He paced in his pod long after Torquemada left him alone and wondered what was going on with the man. Even though he had just lost his father only a few days ago, O'Reily knew better than to get his head out of the game because that was what his enemies were waiting for and when they were going to strike against him. Seamus O'Reily had to become a distant memory and he had to refocus on his plans to get natural balance back into every corner of Oz.

Meaney walked into the pod and said, "What was that fag doing in here? I saw you two talking earlier but didn't want to interrupt."

"You should have. Being anywhere near that sick bastard creeps me out," O'Reily stopped his pacing and said.

"What did he say?"

"His usual bullshit. He's starting to see just how much influence he has in this pisshole."

"He's up to something."

"No shit. Keep an eye on him for me," he ordered the grunt.

"What am I looking for?" Meaney asked as he looked outside the pod and to the quad.

"Watch him. See who he talks to and what he's doing. The sooner I figure out what he knows and is up to, the better. Oh, and I don't need to tell you to keep your distance."

"Of course not. He won't know a thing."

"Good."

"Let's see what that cocksucker is planning."

With that, Meaney disappeared out of the pod to find out all he could about the queen to report back. O'Reily held out very little expectation that the grunt would return with any useful information so he was already devising another plan to get what he needed. He wanted to talk to Alvarez to finalize another plan of theirs, but would have to see if they got a chance to be alone in the hospital later. His father's death did affect him, though far less than Cyril's had, but he had to move on and continue to fight to keep himself alive.

The cafeteria buzzed with chatter as inmates gathered their meals and sat in their usual groups. O'Reily sat by himself at a table and munched on an apple as his eyes occasionally darted to another table across the room where Alvarez sat with Vieyra. He was not jealous of the kid, but he still had his reservations about protecting him from Calderón and El Norte. Alvarez caught him looking and their eyes met for a moment before the gaze was broken and each entered their own world again.

"Ryan O'Reily, a word," the El Norte leader said and broke him out of his thought.

"What is it, Calderón?"

"I realize our paths haven't crossed much since I've been here, but I've heard things I consider to be good about you. Can I sit?"

"It's not my chair," O'Reily replied with annoyance in his voice. "I'm not interested in small talk."

"Something we have in common, then," Calderón said and sat across from him. "You told me during our first encounter that you are a dealmaker. Are your services still on the table?"

"That depends on what services you want."

"A complete disappearance. Are you interested?"

"Who's going poof?" he asked and was sure he kept his piqued curiosity hidden.

"Torquemada and Pancamo. It's about time I end this game."

"Why come to me with this? You have your El Norte boys you brought in here yourself."

"Perceptive, aren't you?"

"I don't survive in here by keeping my head in the sand," the Irishman answered. "Why me?"

He caught Calderón glancing over to Alvarez's table before he averted his eyes back and said, "Your finesse will prove invaluable to me."

"Only one problem with that. I'm not one of your lackeys. What are you offering for this disappearance? It's quite a task."

"I'm a man of my word, Mr. O'Reily. Do what I ask and you will be well rewarded for your services," the suave warlord said as if the deal was already finalized.

"A man of his word in prison? You know, that has to be some kind of first."

"I don't see how. Aren't you a man of your word? From what I've heard, you were fiercely loyal to your brother, Cyril," Calderón said and tried to get inside his head.

"We're done talking."

O'Reily stood up, grabbed his tray, and walked away because the man was trying to use his dead brother against him. It took a fair amount of restraint for him not to punch Calderón in the face for his backhanded comment, but now was not the time to be thrown in the cage. He dropped the rest of his uneaten lunch into the trash and walked to the gates to wait until they were released. Cyril's memory had been tainted by coming out of that fuck's mouth and attempted to be used as a bargaining chip.

Regardless of his poor manipulation skills, the El Norte leader did make him an interesting proposition that he could pursue if he wanted to. And, O'Reily knew the man was going to pay big for getting Torquemada and Pancamo out of his way. He really had to talk to Alvarez and come up with another plan because Calderón was ready to make moves. And it was apparent from his glances earlier that the loco Latino and Gio Vieyra were of interest to him as well.

Later in the hospital, he felt tightness in his stomach as he passed the bed that his father was pronounced dead on by Dr. Nathan. A few days had passed and although he knew Seamus O'Reily was gone, a part of him still felt like the old man was just locked away in Solitary. O'Reily banished the thoughts from his mind and concentrated on what he had to do to keep himself alive because everything was coming to a boiling climax.

Dr. Nathan had tried to get him to talk on several occasions but he had turned her down each time. He was in no mood to talk about the loss because he had to move on from it and get back to his survival instinct. O'Reily went to the back room and noticed he was alone, so he got to work while his mind was spinning new plots and devices now that El Cartel had formally made him an offer. He turned around when he realized he was no longer alone.

"You all right?" Miguel Alvarez asked as he came in and started rifling through various cupboards.

"Don't I look all right?" he snapped in an irritated way. "Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

"Because your dad died a few days ago."

"It's not like we were close. And I'm not a fucking baby."

"Never said you were. But---still."

"Stop, Alvarez," O'Reily warned. "We have more important things to talk about."

"I know. You have someone in mind to trash the telemarketing room?"

"Some of the new bikers that came into Em City a few weeks ago. I haven't talked to them yet."

"The sooner we get this plan going the better," Alvarez said when he looked at him.

"I saw you with the kid in lunch today."

"And I saw you with Calderón. What did he want?"

A hack came in to make sure they were doing their job so they both stopped talking and gave the illusion that they were busy. The nurse was dealing with a few cranky inmates and Dr. Nathan was in her office filtering through a mound of paperwork and taking phone calls. He eyed them both but eventually returned to his post at the entrance of the hospital ward. O'Reily walked deeper into the room in hopes that it would grant them more privacy.

"You want me to come over there and keep you company?" the Latino smirked that grin of his and said.

"Stop fooling around, loco. Calderón is ready to make moves."

"That's what he said to you?"

O'Reily quickly glanced around before he said, "He wants me to airhole Torquemada and Pancamo."

"What? I get Torquemada, but why Pancamo?"

"Don't know. Looks like he wants Destiny out as much as we do and wants to cover all his bases."

"What'd you tell him?" Alvarez got slightly closer and asked.

"He started talking shit about Cyril so I left. That cocksucker actually tried to manipulate me through him. He doesn't know who he's fucking around with."

"Clearly. This is good, though. Let him think you're still thinking over the proposition for as long as you can. It'll buy us more time."

"That's exactly what I thought. I mean I didn't tell him yes---but I didn't tell him no, either," the Irishman said and was sometimes still amazed how much he and Alvarez thought alike. "If he thinks I'm on his side then we could use that to our advantage."

"Look at you, víbora. Fucking with El Cartel. This could change things in here," he said.

"I know. Let's put him and his deal aside for right now and focus on getting Redding and the niggers back in the tit game," O'Reily said, with the plan churning inside his head.

"Talk to the bikers so this can happen as soon as possible. What are you going to offer as incentive?"

"Look around you, Miguel. Prescription drugs. I'll offer a week's supply for getting the job done. Think they'll bite?"

"Those drugheads will have no choice but to fall into our plan to get their fix. The promise of drugs makes anyone in here do dumb shit to get it," Alvarez said and nodded to silently agree to the terms of their plan.

"I'll let you know what happens with the bikers."

"I'll keep an eye on Calderón and make sure he doesn't catch on."

"All right."

The Latino headed out the door but stopped at the frame and said, "Hey, Ryan, I am sorry about your dad."

His expressive brown eyes felt like they were looking through him and O'Reily became uncomfortable but the feeling passed when Alvarez left the room. From everyone that had tried talking to him about his father, Alvarez was the closest one he would want to talk to about it. But, there was no time for that since he had to manipulate the bikers into doing their plan as well as watch himself since he was on El Cartel's radar now. The look in Alvarez's eyes said more than enough, though.

A few days had passed and O'Reily was summoned for a meeting with his father's lawyer. He waited in the interview room for the man to show up and wondered what else he had to tell him. He had given consent to have his father's body cremated so Seamus O'Reily left Oz as ashes. When the time came, he himself was going to be leaving these walls the same way. There was no freedom from his sentence. Oz was a part of him for the rest of his life.

Bryan Rockford walked in and he was surprised to see his mother with him. O'Reily walked over and embraced Suzanne Fitzgerald because he was so happy to see her. Since Cyril was gone and Querns had taken away the arts program, he had missed his mother even more. She smelled like the outside and her body felt so warm against his. O'Reily did not know why he was acting as needy as he was, but she was his only direct living family member left.

"How are you, Ryan?" she cupped his face after they released one another and said.

"Good. What are you doing here?"

"I came to visit my son."

"But why here? With dad's lawyer?" the Irishman questioned.

"Thought it would be a nice surprise. I know you two weren't close, but he was still your father. I know his death has brought up Cyril for you all over again," Fitzgerald said and the three of them sat at the table.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Ryan," Rockford said as he placed his briefcase on the table.

"Yeah, thanks," he replied indifferently. "Why do you want to see me?"

"Well, I came to offer my condolences. Also to tell you that the state has formally dropped its case against your father."

"Seeing as he's dead, I'd assume as much. The state can't prosecute a dead man," he angrily said.

"Relax, Ryan," his mother gently told him. "Mr. Rockford did all he could for your father."

"I am legally bound to tell you that the case has been dropped," the lawyer said. "Plus, I have some papers for you to sign."

"Me?" O'Reily said. "What papers?"

"Some legal documents so that the courts can file your father's case."

"To be just another number, huh?"

His mom gave him a warm smile as Rockford slid a small stack of paperwork across the table for him to review and sign. As his father's closest living relation, O'Reily's hand was forced in the situation so he had to take charge and just do it. The documents had his father's name in black against white and some of them even had his messy signature. Ryan O'Reily ran one of his index fingers across the black ink of his father's signature and he knew both Rockford and his mother were looking at him.

After signing the papers, a realization struck the most sensitive spot of his brain. The rest of his life was condemned to the pods and hallways of Oz. Once he was gone, there was going to be no one to carry on the O'Reily name---his family name. He could not escape this hell to have a kid to carry on his bloodline even if he wanted to. It hit him like a bullet that he was the last and could do nothing to keep the O'Reily name from withering and disappearing.

"What would the outcome have been?" the Irishman broke up the silence and asked. "In your professional opinion, what would the outcome of my dad's trial have been?"

"Ryan, don't do that," Fitzgerald said. "Don't go down that road."

"I have to know, ma."

"I don't think that matters much now," Rockford said as he slipped the documents into various files and folders. "It would be mainly conjecture on my part, anyway."

"Tell me."

"I think he would've been found guilty. Most of the members of the jury have accepted the death penalty as a part of the justice system."

"So, he would have ended up dead anyway," O'Reily said what he knew they were all thinking.

"We could've appealed the ruling. It would not have been the end."

"A hell of a lot it would've done. Appeals didn't do shit for my brother. The only difference is that my dad didn't have his life taken by the state."

"Ryan---" his mother said.

"Way to screw over the state, old man."

The lawyer left shortly after all the paperwork was completed and O'Reily was left to have a short visit with his mother. Her warmth and comfort made him feel safe and loved, just as it did when she had been doing her community service in Oz. She, Cyril, and him really had been a family inside this cesspool, but it never lasted. Querns's ban on the prisoners' free time drove him crazy since he could no longer spend time with her.

The next day in his pod, Meaney still had not found out much from watching Torquemada. O'Reily could see in El Cartel's eyes and body language that the warlord was impatient to make his move against the fag. He sent the grunt on another errand just to get rid of him. Alvarez sat alone in the quad playing cards and kept to himself. Their planning had become very precarious and he knew the Latino was worried. They both were about the future.

Just then, he saw two bikers heading into the shower room. He was suddenly in his approach. He slinked out of his pod and caught Alvarez's eyes for a second as he crossed the quad to get to the showers. El Cartel was in his pod reading and Torquemada and Pancamo were in the classroom upstairs talking. O'Reily entered the showers to the sound of running water and the two men immediately looked back to see who had entered.

"Hey, boys," he greeted them both in that confident way of his.

"Got no time for you, O'Reily," the bigger one, named Moss, said. "Get lost."

"You got some balls approaching us, cocksucker," the more muscular one, Dawson, said.

"Now, now, fellas. I've come with a business opportunity I'm sure you'll find too good to pass on."

"We'll manage," Dawson said. "Your deals only benefit you."

O'Reily gazed up and down both their naked frames and said, "How are those withdrawal symptoms coming? I heard about the outburst during Sister Pete's drug counseling session the other day."

"What the fuck do you want?" Moss grunted.

"Just to ease your withdrawals and help you adjust into prison life."

"We don't need any help with that. And especially from the likes of you," Dawson said.

"You know, I don't know where all this distrust of me comes from," the Irishman said and had to restrain himself from laughing.

"Don't play dumb, you green motherfucker," Dawson said. "Get on."

"So, you're not interested in my drug trade?"

"Drug trade? What drug trade?" Moss asked as he soaped his inner thighs and dick.

"You do a tiny favor for me and I'll make sure you get your fix for a week."

"What are we talking about here?" Dawson asked and suddenly did not seem as icy as before.

"Anything you want from the hospital. For one week."

O'Reily looked at the two stupid fucks with his game face on so as not to give anything away he did not want to. They may have had peanuts for brains, but something about being in jail heightened peoples' senses so it was better to be safe. He watched as the two bikers looked at each other because they were considering the offer. His elbows pressed on top of the half wall separating the showers from the sinks as he looked on.

Moss was a tall and bigger man with a gut and a huge tattoo of a skull and snake on his back along with various other ones across other parts of his body. His chest, arms, legs, and ass were hairy and he had a ponytail protected by a shower cap. He would only seem intimidating to the untrained eye but O'Reily knew better. Moss obviously did not have the last say in plans or actions because of how he listened to Dawson.

Dawson was a bit shorter than the other biker was and had a more defined body build. He surprisingly had only a few tattoos and sported a short haircut. His body had little hair, with the exception of his forearms, under his arms, his legs, and his pubes. O'Reily did not mean to look but he glanced down and noticed that Dawson's dick looked semi hard and was big. He mentally shook his brain and got back to his manipulations because it could no longer wait. He had to use these two bikers to get the plan in motion before Calderón started making moves of his own.

"Prescription drugs, huh?" Dawson said as he softly stroked his chin. "What---little favor do we have to do to get this treatment?"

"Simple," O'Reily devilishly grinned and said. "Destroy the telemarketing room. Leave it not worthy of repairing."

"That's a damn big favor, O'Reily," Moss said.

"So is the reward for doing it. We got a deal?"

"One week does seem mighty small," Dawson said as if it were a negotiation. "Add another and you got yourself a deal."

"No. The deal is one week's worth of pills for a disaster in the telemarketing room. There's no other deal. Take it or I find someone else," the Irishman said and played hardball.

Both men looked at each other for a while before Dawson replied with, "Deal. One week for a trashed room."

"Don't you fucking go back on your word, O'Reily," Moss warned as if it meant something.

"Don't worry, boys. I'm a man of my word---contrary to popular belief."

"I'm sure you are," Dawson sarcastically quipped. "When do you want this done?"

"Yesterday. So get on it," O'Reily said.

"Front us the first day and we'll see. That might take away all these nerves and butterflies me and my partner here are having," Dawson said. "Getting our fix should clear that right up."

"Done."

He turned his back to the bikers and left out of the shower room with an inward smile on his lips. Now was the time for him and Alvarez to preempt the coming war so that it would turn out in their favor. Dawson and Moss were not convincing as negotiators because of how easily they consented to the original agreement. O'Reily was actually desperate enough to get the job done to agree to their terms of two weeks, but they were too easily mind-fucked and taken advantage of for him to take them seriously.

On his way back to the pod, the Irishman met with Alvarez's eyes and nonchalantly nodded to signify that their plan had taken flight. It was weird because he knew he would always be independent, but he really thought of himself and Alvarez as a true team. O'Reily knew he could survive just as he always had by himself again, but he did not want to go back to that. Having someone he knew he could trust was too tempting an offer to pass up. The partnership with the loco Latino had come to mean so much to him.

 

Em City had been in lockdown for the past two days because of the destruction that had taken place in the telemarketing room. Phones had been ripped out of the walls and bleach and water had been poured everywhere. The computers were destroyed and the room looked like a powerful hurricane had passed through it and had spared nothing. The two bikers had made sure to give Querns no choice but to shut down the telemarketing call center permanently.

During the entire lockdown, Torquemada had been trying to convince Miguel Alvarez to join him again so that they could rule Oz together. He was tired of hearing the man talk and trying to put his hands and lips on him. Alvarez had kept his cool the entire time and had just brushed off the queen though because being sent to the cage or the hole for bad behavior was not an option. He and O'Reily had to make sure all their plans were on track so that everything would remain on their terms.

On the morning of the third day, a frustrated Querns had come to end the banishment because neither he nor any of the hacks had any suspects in the vandalism. The Latino felt an ironic sense of freedom once they had been let out of the pods because Torquemada's voice and his advances had become too irritating. Alvarez welcomed the new abundance of space because he had felt his claustrophobia starting to act up being locked away like that. It was something he was not sure he could ever gain complete control over.

The day quickly settled back into its routine but something was gnawing inside Alvarez. The lockdown had forced him to think about it more than he wanted to and now he felt like he had to talk to someone about it. He went to Murphy at the guard tower and soon left Em City and towards the cafeteria. At the time, it had felt like the right thing to do, but it had been bothering him since then.

The cafeteria was quiet at this time because it was in between breakfast and lunch. Father Mukada sat on the stage and waited for him to approach. The hack stood by the gate to guarantee them some semblance of privacy. Alvarez walked up and saw the priest giving him a warm smile. He got on the stage and sat on the chair behind Father Mukada so that they were each facing away and could not see the other. His forearms rested on his legs and he leaned back to try to gather up the words.

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned," Alvarez sucked in his breath and said but then stopped.

Sensing his trouble, Father Mukada calmly said, "Whenever you're ready, Miguel."

"Give me a minute," he said back as he looked forward to the wall.

"Maybe you're not ready to confess. Don't force it if it's not there yet."

"I have to. I have to do it."

"Okay. Tell me what's on your mind."

"I---I made someone believe that they had power and control over me, but I was in complete control the whole time."

"Was this done intentionally?" the priest asked as his head slightly turned back to look over his shoulder.

"Yes. I lied to convince him otherwise. My cousin."

He just lied to a priest. In confessional, he just lied to Father Mukada. Alvarez was talking about his last sexual encounter with his partner Ryan O'Reily. He had allowed himself to be controlled by the Irishman when he had gotten down on his knees to suck his dick, but Alvarez had always been in control. He had never lost it and the small lie to O'Reily started to make him feel guilty, as if he had betrayed his partner. It was never supposed to be this deep.

He wanted O'Reily to feel like he had power again because he was so emotionally distraught about being fucked. So, to try to balance all that raw emotion out, Alvarez had seemingly given him some power over him in that moment he was on his knees. As much as he hated it, he had done it so that O'Reily could feel even a little better about what had happened between them.

Him getting fucked had psychologically taken its toll on him. It had to have been hard for someone who made sure every inmate knew that he was straight to have allowed that to happen to him. Sucking each other's dicks was one thing because there was no penetration involved in that. It had first started as an act of trust at the very beginning of a partnership. Then, it had become about the two of them getting their rocks off together. But now, it had become so much more than all of that.

"I need absolution," the Latino said. "I can't get away from the deception."

"You know the true way to absolution, Miguel. What we're doing here is only the first step. You have to be honest in your confession and vow never to do it again."

"I---I can't guarantee that I won't continue doing it. I kind of have to keep doing it."

"Keep lying to your cousin?" Father Mukada said. "Why? Why did you lie about power and control in the first place?"

"I can't say," Alvarez said to keep his reasons protected.

"Miguel, it sounds like you have made up your mind about this," he again looked over his shoulder and said. "Confession will not work if you are not willing to fully open yourself up and do away the thing that brought you here in the first place."

"Look, Father, I feel guilty and I need you to help me with that. It's why I came to confession. I didn't want to lie, but I had no choice."

"I'd like to think you and I have a more profound relationship, Miguel. In all the years I've known you, I've never known you to give someone any kind of control of you willingly. You bad relations with every past leader of El Norte prove that," the priest said. "What's really going on here?"

"Nothing. Nothing. You have to help me get rid of the guilt."

"Like I told you before, if you wish to continue with this deception, I cannot offer you absolution."

"So, you're saying me coming here was worthless?" Alvarez looked back and said.

"No---no, Miguel. Just confessing alone will help you deal with your guilt. But beyond that, there really isn't much more I can offer you."

"Okay, Padre," he said as he got up to leave.

Father Mukada turned around to look at him and said, "Wait, Miguel. I've seen a positive change in you over the past months. You have mainly stayed out of trouble and have been making real progress in here. I don't want to see you go back. If this guilt bothers you so much, it will only become worse if you do not find a way to deal with it."

"I know. That's why I came here."

"I'm sorry I can't help you more."

"All I know is that I was supposed to be honest but I wasn't," he said and then got off the stage.

The priest's eyes were on him as he walked the length of the cafeteria to be returned back to Em City. It felt good to get it off his chest, but what he really wanted to happen did not. Alvarez wanted to feel some relief for knowingly misleading O'Reily on two very specific occasions. He blamed himself more than he could Father Mukada for not being able to get rid of his guilt. The gate clanked open and the hack followed him out to take him back.

They were supposed to be honest with each other because their partnership demanded it---no matter that they were in prison. Any doubt or suspicion casted on the partnership could easily dismantle it. Alvarez fought with the truth inside himself and just needed a moment to think about what his next move with O'Reily was going to be. Unfortunately, when he returned to Em City and his pod, Torquemada was there having a discussion with Pancamo. He opened the door and both men immediately looked at him as if he was intruding.

"Well if it isn't our traitor," Pancamo spat with revulsion heavy in his tone. "Haven't seen much of you, Alvarez. What are you up to?"

"Fuck you, Pancamo," the Latino said. "I ain't no traitor."

"Now, now, Chucky---calm down. Miguel didn't betray us. He just went his own way. Remember, he went to the hole from that surprise shakedown just as I did."

"That don't mean shit. Make excuses for him. I know you got some sick obsession with him."

"You jealous, juicehead?"

"In your fucking dreams, spic," the muscled Italian replied.

"Go, Chucky. We'll finish this later," Torquemada said and looked at him. "Just go."

"Yeah. You heard your boss, Chucky. Step out," Alvarez spitefully chided and smirked.

"Stop, Miguel," the queen said as Pancamo left the pod.

"You don't tell me what to do."

"That's not what I'm doing,"

"But it's what you want to. It's what you've wanted since you came here," Alvarez spared no emotion when he said.

He moved passed the queen and went to his bed, with the entire conversation earlier with Father Mukada still inside his brain. There really was no privacy in the godforsaken hellhole they were all trapped in. The Latino plopped down on his bed and closed his eyes as if he was trying to wish himself alone. In the darkness shrouding his eyes, he saw himself on his knees in front of O'Reily. His skin shuddered at his inner struggle but also because of something else.

"Get your hand off me," he quickly opened his eyes and jerked back as he fiercely warned.

"Think of all the good times we had in this pod, sugar," Torquemada retracted his fingers and countered with. "We could have all that and more again."

"I told you about that fucking shit. Back up."

The queen turned his back to him and said, "You know, Chucky wants to take you out."

"He's welcome to try. So are you."

"I told him no. I couldn't stand it if anything bad ever happening to you, honey," he horribly overacted. "Of course, if you keep pushing me away as you are now, I might be inclined to change my mind about Chucky's proposition."

"The last thing I need is your protection. Your threats are weak and useless, just like you," Alvarez easily said.

"Please, Miguel, I don't want to fight with you. I want you to come back to my side. I know Calderón is starting to make moves."

"What's that got to do with me? I don't got shit to do with El Norte."

"I know. I need for you---for us to be the team we were before. Help me spread Destiny back into the veins of Oz again. I want you back. I want you to be my king again."

"Stop it with that bullshit," he snapped and said. "I told you I'm never coming back. I'm fucking solo in here."

"But we could be great again."

"We were never great. You used your drugs to control me for a little while and it worked. Not anymore, though. We ain't nothing more than podmates. You got that?"

"But, Miguel," Torquemada started to say.

"No---hell no! Don't approach me with this bullshit again or I'll make sure you regret it."

"I know we haven't been on the same page for some time now, Miguel, but I don't know where all this built up animosity you have towards me comes from. It truly does frighten me," the queen said with a sad look on his face. "I've only ever wanted to be you partner. I've only ever wanted to cherish you. I don't know what I've done to you to deserve your hatred."

Alvarez did not respond but instead averted his eyes to peer down at the quad. The man sounded desperate to find out any information on EL Cartel he could because he knew the warlord was starting to make moves. He did not feel pity for Torquemada, but he understood the man's suspicions about Calderón because O'Reily had already validated that he was plotting moves. He was not in that though, so he had no place saying anything to the sneaky queen.

It was just made clear that both Torquemada and Pancamo were worried about EL Cartel and his plans. Alvarez closed his eyes again to put away all of his emotions concerning lying to O'Reily because now was not the appropriate time to be reconsidering them. The queen's eyes finally shifted away from him and he went up to his bed. From the look of Pancamo's face earlier, he was positive that they two of them were plotting something as well. Torquemada was not stupid and was very well aware of his surroundings. Destiny was not his only card to be played.

A few days later and Alvarez was told that he had a visitor waiting for him. The hacks did not tell him who it was when he asked. The tension inside Em City could be felt in the air and throughout the hallways and walls as he walked to the visitor's room. O'Reily was still managing to give the run around to Calderón, but it was more than obvious that the man was out for blood. Something was going to happen sooner rather than later and they both had to be prepared to deal with it.

"What?" the Latino said when he entered the visitor's room. "What are you doing here, ma?"

"I came to see my son. What else does it look like?" his mother Carmen said with a small smile that gave little away. "Sit."

"What's going on? What's up with the visit?" he said as he did.

"You're so suspicious, Miguelito."

"It comes with the territory in here. What do you want? Something happened?"

"Just wanted to see you. You look good, son," she said after their eyes met.

"Ma, what's going on?" Alvarez asked because he was not buying her reasons.

"Stop it!" Carmen snapped. "You have no reason to be suspicious of me. I am your mother. Do I need a reason to visit you other than you're my son?"

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. It's good to see you, ma," he said as he held her hand. "You look great. You lose some weight?"

"My doctor told me to start eating better so I've been trying to. It gets hard sometimes."

"I can see. What else did the doctor say?"

"Take it easy. He says my blood pressure went up because of stress."

"Why are you stressed, ma?" Alvarez firmly asked her because there was a reason she was here. "What's got you stressed out?"

Carmen had an unreadable expression plastered over her face and she uncharacteristically remained quiet for a while. He asked her again, but it looked like she was thinking of what her next response should be. Alvarez was getting tired of the game and just wanted to shake her to get the answers out of her. The silence at the table dragged on until his mother's mind settled on the proper answer to address her son with.

"Bills, Miguelito. The house and the car and everything else," she said. "Everything's piling up on me. I can't do it on my own for much longer."

"Are you default on anything?" he took away his hand and said.

"No---not yet. I'm barely making monthly payments right now."

"Sounds like you need another job. If you lose the house, where will you live? Don't default on the house."

"You know, you could help me with that," Carmen said with a glint in her eyes.

"How can I help you, ma? You forget where I am?" Alvarez replied and did not know what she meant.

"You're still playing it that way then? Lying to your own mother."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"The money, Miguel. The goddamn inheritance you received from one of the fucks in here," his mother almost yelled at him with anger in her eyes. "You still want to play stupid, son?"

"What the fuck? Who told you about that? How do you know about that?" Alvarez wanted to yell back but remained as calm as he could when he asked.

"So it's fucking true. Some bastard died in here and left you all his shit."

"Ma, I won't ask you again. How the fuck did you find out about that? Tell me right now."

No one was supposed to know anything about what had happened after Wolfgang Cutler's death and then after his wife had met her end because of the hit ordered by Schillinger. Aside from McManus and O'Reily, none of the other inmates knew that he had inherited all of Cutler's possessions once again. Alvarez stared at his mother from across the table as he waited for his answer. He was upset and slightly hurt that she chose this way to bring up that she knew about the money. Her sudden visit made sense in his mind now.

"Does it matter? Some fool leaves you money and you don't even offer to give your one and only mother any of it? Hell, you don't even tell me about it?" Carmen said and was more furious than she was hurt.

"Why would I do that? None of it belongs to you. You didn't need to know shit."

"I know about the money."

"That don't matter. You're not getting any of it. Your sudden visit makes so much more sense now, ma," he resentfully said. "You saw money and you came running."

"How can you talk to me this way?"

"You came here for money and nothing else. I don't see you for months and then, all of a sudden, you show up. I knew something was going on. Who told you about the money? Tell me or this visit's over."

Carmen glared at him before she said, "No. The point is I know and I want you to give me some of it. I'm your mother. I deserve some of that money."

"What can you do to make me? I'm not a fucking kid anymore. See you in another couple months, ma" Alvarez scornfully said after he got up to leave. "Or, just don't bother coming."

"Miguel, I'm not done with you. Come back here," she stood up at the table and tried to reprimand him. "Wake up. You're never getting out of this fucking place! That money's going to rot in the goddamn bank!"

"You---you don't think I'm going to get out?" he stopped, looked back, and asked because the words pierced through the middle of his heart.

"No. I've had to accept that fact as your mother. You're tied to Oz for the rest of your life, son."

"Fuck you! Better that money rot in the bank than in your hands."

"Miguel---Miguel, don't you walk away from me!" Carmen yelled through the visitation room at her son. "What about me?"

The Latino did not even bother to look back when he replied, "You're a tough bitch. Like you've told me all my life. You'll figure it out. We're done."

His mother had no faith in him or in his chances of getting out of Oz and reforming his life in a positive way. Her words hurt him far more than he was willing to admit or acknowledge. Alvarez stormed out of the visitation room and just walked because he could not think clearly. Somehow, his mother had found out about the money. He was still unclear whether she knew how much he had inherited or if she knew about the house and vehicles as well. Carmen was only interested in the money and nothing else.

Back in his pod and alone, Alvarez kicked the hard glass wall of the pod in a fit of unbridled rage and anger. They had not always had the closest relationship, but he always thought that his mother believed that he would get out one day to start living his life again. Carmen's words burned like lava scorching against his skin and seeping deep into his veins. She had given up on him and had only come to siphon money from him.

He went and sat on his bed because the room was starting to spin and he was getting what felt like a strong headache. The Latino rested on his bed and put his head against the lumpy pillow to try to get the pod to stop moving around him. Still, he had to know how his mother had found out about the money. Someone else had to have known something. Someone on the outside had to have somehow found out and told his mother. Alvarez closed his eyes in hopes that the pounding in his head would stop.

Days later and he was slipping away from the crowd to get to where he had to be. No hacks saw him when he followed the set path to the closet off the AIDS ward. Alvarez paced in the room as he waited and was thinking about what their next move should be. He had to wait for O'Reily to see what he had to say before they could do anything. Torquemada, Pancamo, and Calderón were all ready for a fight and plotting to mold Oz within their own vision. The door slowly creaked and a body stealthily entered the secret space.

"Hey, Miguel," the Irishman said as he gulped down air.

"Just ran a marathon, Irish?" he questioned.

"Funny. Thought I saw a hack in the hallway. Had to---had to be safe."

"Catch your breath."

O'Reily took a few moments for his breathing to return to normal before he said, "Okay. We got to make moves, loco. I got some good news."

"What?"

"Redding officially got back into the tit trade this morning. The homeboys are back slinging on his orders. I saw Poet pushing behind the column."

"Oh shit," Alvarez said and was happy with the news. "Well, seeing as we got rid of his only other option, he was smart to get back to what he knows, you know? Come on, let's sit and talk."

Both men walked over to the corner of the room furthest away from the door and sat down to begin planning their next moves on how to make sure the impending war was going to turn out in their favor. They sat next to each other and their forearms touched at times. The momentary warmth reminded Alvarez why this partnership was important to him. It also reminded him that he had lied to O'Reily and had attempted to deceive himself in the process.

"Torquemada's getting antsy. He wants Calderón gone," the Latino said. "He's desperate and he's making mistakes."

"Maybe Calderón will take advantage of one of those mistakes and then it'll be good riddance to that fucking fag."

"With the niggers back in rotation, that guarantees that Torquemada or Calderón will not get control of the drug game."

"Destiny is fucking dead," O'Reily looked over at him and said the sweet words. "There are about the same number of Latinos to homeboys. I have no doubt that Calderón and Redding will talk partnership---if they haven't already. If this happens then Torquemada will be dead in the water. Don't you see?"

"We have to make this partnership happen between them. This way, they'll keep each other from becoming too powerful. They'll keep each other in check."

"Exactly. The spics and the niggers have the most numbers in here right now. Everything will balance out this way."

"What about Pancamo? We can't underestimate him and the dagos," Alvarez brought up the wild card.

"Fuck! I completely forgot about that goddamn juicehead Chucky."

"He's still partnering with Torquemada, like I told you a few days ago. Remember, they were plotting in my pod."

"Yeah, yeah," he said and stared forward because he was thinking.

"With the Italians backing him, he could ditch Torquemada and partner with Calderón and Redding. They'd split the tit trade three ways."

"I don't think he has enough men to hang with the spics or niggers. The wops aren't that big anymore. It only looked like that because he and Torquemada were working together," O'Reily said. "Either way, we need to get rid of that factor."

"Torquemada went out of his way the other day to tell me that Pancamo wants me dead."

"Why would he do that?"

"Figured I'd get scared and join back up with him," the Latino said and smiled a little.

"Then that fag must not know you at all."

Alvarez remained quiet at the words and stared at the wall they were sitting across from. He thought about the conversation he had with Father Mukada and wondered if it was the right thing to tell his partner the truth. There was also something else he wanted to clear up with O'Reily before it got lost forever between them. If his stare were any more concentrated and intense, it would have bored two holes through the thick wall. There were so many things to be considered. He felt a forearm subconsciously brush against his.

"How long do we have to keep watching the kid?" the Irishman said into the silence.

"Huh? What?"

"Vieyra. Hey---where are you?" he asked, noticing the slightly lost expression on Alvarez's face.

"Until Calderón backs off and leaves him alone. I won't let him throw his life away in El Norte. I made a promise," Alvarez regained himself and said.

"Okay, okay. That could take a long time. Calderón doesn't look like the giving up type."

"So be it," he grimly replied.

"Alvarez, what's wrong? Your mood changed," O'Reily noticed and then realized that the Latino was staring directly at him. "Why are you staring at me?"

"I---I lied to you."

"About what?" he asked and his body language immediately began to change.

"I don't want to get fucked. I don't."

"Why'd you say it, then? Why'd you ask me if I wanted to do it?" O'Reily glared at him and said.

"I don't know," Alvarez uncomfortably said. "You were fucking freaking out and I wanted to calm you down, you know?"

"By lying to me? By making an offer you had no intention of keeping?"

"I didn't mean to do that," he honestly said. "I just had to calm you down. You were making a really big deal about it and---"

"It is a fucking big deal, Alvarez! I got fucked. You fucked me. Something I never ever wanted to happen did! Don't you fucking get that?"

"Don't get mad. I'm sorry. I know it's a big deal. I---I didn't mean it like that."

"Just like you didn't mean your offer?"

"Ryan---"

"Just forget it. You have no goddamn idea."

The Latino wanted to say something but instead remained quiet and he felt O'Reily get up from next to him and walk over to the other side of the room. He hung his head to the floor and closed his eyes as Father Mukada's words once again played inside his mind. He wanted to look O'Reily in the eyes and really say sorry, but he was unable to at the moment. Alvarez had to make something abundantly clear so that there was no confusion about it, though.

"What happened doesn't change anything between us. You know, we still equal partners," he looked up and across the room and said.

"Something you feel you have to say? Because you weren't the one with a dick in your ass," O'Reily did not look at him when he said.

"No. Have to say the truth. We were both drugged out of our minds."

"Doesn't mean it didn't happen."

"I know."

"I'm going," O'Reily said out of nowhere.

"Hey---hey. Wait," Alvarez said as he jumped up from the ground.

He rushed over to stop the Irishman from leaving like this. As he held on to his wrist to prevent him from leaving, O'Reily easily jerked it away. Alvarez rested both of his hands on his partner's waist and moved in to connect their lips together. It just felt like the right thing to do and, what was more surprising was that O'Reily was not fighting back the intimacy. They had to quickly recover from this and get back to plotting out the war to guarantee their survival.

"You're too fucking good at that," O'Reily said under his breath after he pulled away. "I hate it."

"We're okay? I mean---the partnership's okay?" the Latino caught himself and said.

"I have to be. We can't afford to make any mistakes right now."

"Yeah. Time to get back."

"Lie to me again and I'll fucking kill you without leaving a goddamn mark," he said with no emotion.

"There's the Ryan O'Reily I know," Alvarez replied and laughed a little.

Some part of him felt better knowing that there was no expectation upon him to get fucked and he was happy about that. O'Reily had already slipped away to get back to Em City and he was waiting for his turn to return to Oz. And, although he laughed at O'Reily's threat earlier, Alvarez knew better than to not take his partner seriously. Inside the walls of Oz, trust was an impossible thing to build and an extremely brittle thing to break. The Latino knew he was safe, but also knew that lying was a mistake.

The following day and Alvarez was sitting across the table from Gio Vieyra in the quad and playing cards. The kid did not look as green as he once did and that meant that his profile with the other inmates was slowly being lowered. More of them knew that Alvarez was on his side, so he was generally left alone. Vieyra did not go looking for trouble and had mostly avoided any situation where trouble was brewing. It would take a lot more than that to get El Cartel uninterested in him, though.

Out of the corner of his eye, the Latino saw Torquemada strangely alone. Pancamo was nowhere to be seen. He also saw Poet slinging tits under the stairs and laughing that dumb laugh of his. He noticed O'Reily from across the room looking at the same thing he just saw. Alvarez smiled but cut his eyes away when he saw Calderón and Redding talking in front of the laundry room. Both men looked like they were in an intense conversation.

A part of him began to feel sorry for Torquemada. Even with his combined forces with Pancamo and the wops, they would never stand a chance against El Cartel and the niggers. And the queen had been slipping up and making common mistakes, so his nerves were obviously rattled. But, he brought all this upon himself for wanting to gain control of Em City. His Destiny had failed him because just about everyone was back on heroin or pills. Destiny had all but died out inside the walls of Oz and so did the queen's plans of conquering Em City.

Suddenly, sirens began blaring and Officer Murphy yelled over the intercom, "Lockdown! Lockdown! In your pods and be prepared to be counted. Lockdown! Lockdown!"

The prison suddenly became buzzing with inmates and hacks alike wondering what was going on. Sirens continued to scream and everyone scrambled to get to where they needed to be. Alvarez scooped up the cards and put them in his pocket before they both got up. He waited a moment to see that Vieyra had made it to his pod before he went up the stairs to be confined to his own. He tried to look for O'Reily, but the crowd was still too thick and hectic to make anything out.

After count, Em City had become much quieter, but there were still inmates yelling answers to the reason behind the lockdown. None of them knew what was going on and Alvarez sat on his bed to wait for an explanation. There was no use getting riled up when they could not leave their pods anyway. Torquemada had a nervous look on his face and the Latino ignored him as he continued to wait on his bed. He wanted to see if O'Reily knew anything about what was going on.

"Silence!" Querns said over the loudspeakers from the guard tower as McManus and Murphy stood near him. "Shut up, all of you!"

"Fuck you, Querns!" a random prisoner screamed out and others laughed.

"What the hell are we on lockdown for?" another yelled.

"Shut up!" Murphy said to regain attention.

"You animals will stay in your cages until I get a confession out of one of you for the murder of Chucky Pancamo," Warden Querns said in a disgusted tone. "Lockdown will last for however long it takes. The choice is yours."

Alvarez immediately sprung up at the news of Pancamo's murder and he saw a saddened expression on Torquemada's face. The queen had to be scared because his only partner had just been airholed. The Latino went over to the glass and looked out at the quad as Querns left Em City accompanied by McManus and two hacks. Surely, when he looked over to Pancamo's pod, he was not there. Everything was going so fast and the murder only proved that he and O'Reily were right all along.

Although the prison was in lockdown, everything could happen as if it were normal. Everyone had to be on guard of the person in their pod and truly be for themselves. Alvarez grew worried about Vieyra's safety and also about Ryan O'Reily. He knew that the latter could take care of himself though so it was useless to be worried about him. Alvarez looked down to his pod and finally saw O'Reily slyly looking up him through short glances. It was hard to tell with the other was thinking, but as they glanced at each other from opposite corners and floors of Em City, both men knew exactly what Pancamo's death signified.