Caged

Caged - 5 - The Knife

"Here you go."

Brian looked dully at the glass of juice and the toast that the small man was offering him.

"Go ahead and take a break," Tookie said softly. "Sit down there." He indicated the space between the deep sink and the counter. "It's okay ... go ahead ... sit."

Brian looked in Dominic's direction.

"Don't worry about him," Tookie whispered softly. "He's the one who sent me over."

Brian dried his hands and sank gratefully down. Tookie knelt and sat the plate of toast alongside Brian. He handed him the orange juice and watched as Brian took it with a shaking hand. The blond man drank it down greedily.

"Thanks," he said huskily when half the juice was gone.

"You're welcome." Tookie studied the bruised and battered face, the dull eyes and the split lip. "I'm Leonard Perratuecki but everyone calls me Tookie." Brian felt the sharp brown eyes studying him intently. "We'll all be going outside for our morning break in twenty minutes. He says you're to sit here and rest until then."

Brian nodded in gratitude as the little guy rose to his feet and limped away. As he chewed carefully on the toast, he watched the other men laughing and joking. He felt his stomach roll a bit and closed his eyes as he fought down the nausea. He must have dozed for a moment because the next thing he knew he was being hauled to his feet.

"Come on, Goldie-Locks," Dom's voice grated, "fresh air time."

Brian stumbled as Dom pulled him toward the exit.

"Wait, Toretto," called the screw. "We're missing a knife!"

Dom, still gripping Brian by one arm, twisted around and studied the knife rack next to the guard. His dark eyes scanned his fellow inmates who were gathered around him. They all shook their heads.

"Okay, boys," Dom said softly. "Let's find it so we can get out o' here."

Brian swayed on his feet when Dom released him. He might have fallen if he hadn't still been close enough to the deep sink to catch himself on its stainless steel lip. Nausea hit him again and he leaned over as he battled with it. As he stared down into the water, he saw the missing knife where it rested on the bottom.

He reached down on pulled the nearly foot-long blade out. He looked at his reflection; his mind was dull with pain and fatigue.

"He's got it, Dom!" JamJimmy's screech set them all on edge.

Brian stiffened and straightened as much as he was able. He turned his upper body without thinking. One hand still clutched the sink for support and the other, the hand that held the butcher knife, swung out.

Jimmy jumped backward with startled string of oaths.

"Fuck, Dom!" the high-strung thief yelled loudly. "He's trying to stick me with that shiv!"

Tookie blinked rapidly as his friend approached the new man. Dom grabbed the ex-cop's wrist and gave it a brutal twist. The knife clattered to the tiles.

"Were ya' gonna' use that on me?" He shoved his dark face close to the pale one. The slender man shook his head; his eyes were wide and glassy with confusion and exhaustion.

Apparently not satisfied, Dom once again twisted the man's arm up and behind him. He turned him and shoved the golden head down into the scalding water of the deep sink. He held him under only briefly, before yanking him back out.

"You ever try to use a knife on me or one of my friends again--I'll hold you under the water 'til your eyes hard-boil. Ya' got it?" He gave the dripping, gulping, sobbing prisoner a hard shake before dragging him to the door.

Tookie scurried over in his halting gait to retrieve the knife. He picked it up and quickly washed it clean before replacing it in its spot in the knife rack.

"There, Mr. White," Tookie bobbed his head. "All present and accounted for."

The screw looked slightly disappointed as he moved slowly toward the door. He had obviously been hoping for more violence. As he moved past Toretto to unlock the door he raked his eyes over the ex-cop.

"Can't have cons in the kitchen who like to play with knives." He leered at Brian. "Maybe he's too much for you to handle, Toretto." The guard licked his lips. "I think he needs more punishment."

"Just open the damned door," Dom's disgust was clear.

The guard unlocked it and moved through into the small anteroom. The prisoners waited patiently as he flipped on the metal detector. When it hummed to life Dom drug Brian through behind him. One-by-one they filed through, and went on out to the yard for their morning break.

Brian stumbled several times and Dom was forced to half carry, half drag him most of the way. He dropped his burden unceremoniously on the bottom row of bleachers before climbing higher up to his usual spot.

Brian looked up as Dom's friends once again took seats all around the big man. He remembered how Mia had once described her brother as gravity. Looking at the varied assortment of convicts that were jostling each other in an attempt to sit close to him, Brian understood what she meant.

Dom's magnetism drew even these hard core felons into his orbit. He was like their sun. He gave their endlessly boring days some direction as they circled his powerful warmth.

He had secretly approached Dom about this assignment nearly a month ago and the big man had flat out refused to help in any way. Dom had said repeatedly that he was not a narc--that he did not want to be involved with tricking anyone into admitting guilt. He did not like the undercover game. He did not agree with pretending to be someone's friend just to turn around and use confidences against them. Not only had Dom refused to help trap one of the worst criminals on the West Coast, but he had steadfastly refused to protect Brian from the scum that resided in Rumsford.

Dom had sworn, yelled and threatened when Brian and Special Agent Ormond had laid out the plan. Dom was supposed to protect him while he made friends with a certain convict. Dom had told them the only way he could keep Brian safe was if they shared a bed.

From the smug look on Dom's face, Brian knew that his stubborn friend had expected that to be the end of the plan. The FBI agent, however, had smiled and said that would be the perfect cover. Dom had adamantly refused. He had shaken his stubbled head and demanded to be returned to the prison. He had ended by saying that if Brian were stupid enough to fake his dismissal from the force and allow himself to be locked up--that he would deserve the treatment that the other prisoners would dole out.

Brian had never hesitated. He had cooperated with the FBI. He had let them plant false evidence against him. He had been kicked off the LAPD and swiftly indicted, tried and convicted of various crimes. He had been framed to take the fall for another dirty cop -- one who was on Jones' payroll.

Brian felt guilt settle into the pit of his stomach. It hit right on top of the nausea that still gurgled there. He bowed his head. Pain radiated off him. Poor Dom had gone against everything he held dear. He had swallowed his morals, lied to his friends and was going to help entrap Devlin Jones, the biggest racketeer in California. Brian had forced his big friend into acting the brute--and in order to pull this job off--he'd have to force Dom into doing much more.