Chapter 4

Stone crushed Newt in a hug. He brushed his chin along Newt's hair while glaring across the visiting room. His arms tightened until Newt pushed against him.

"Ease off the ginger nut," Mickey said, elbowing Stone in the side.

Mickey forced his way forward and gave Newt a hug. He lifted Newt off the ground, laughing softly when Newt struggled to escape him.

"Settle down!" Jenkins called. "That means you too, Briggs."

"Which one?" Mickey replied, giving him a bright smile. "There's rather a lot of us."

"Sit," Jenkins said, pointing at a chair.

Mickey and Newt took their seats on opposite sides of the table, but Stone stayed on his feet, breathing hard as his eyes locked on a woman on the other side of the room. Shaw stepped through the door, and Newt was pretty sure Stone stopped breathing. The colour leached from his brother's face.

"Looking good," Mickey said. He leaned over and lightly punched Newt's shoulder.

It hurt, and Newt didn't mask it in time.

"Sorry." Mickey chuckled. "It's only been two weeks, but I've forgotten how weedy you are."

"I'm not weedy."

"I guess carrots aren't weeds."

Newt rolled his eyes, then they both looked up at Stone. His shoulders were tense, his jaw working back and forth as he watched Shaw take his time crossing the room.

The rosy-cheeked woman in the opposite corner dabbed her eyes with a tissue as Shaw approached.

Mickey sighed. "Stone saw his mum in the waiting room… Swore it was her. That's him then…Kyle's brother."

Shaw broke his staring match with Stone. The straight line of his lips moved into a friendly curve, and he embraced his mum, whispering into her ear. Neither of them looked over at Newt's table, but Stone still stood at attention, rigid and watchful.

"Christ," Mickey hissed. He grabbed the belt loop of Stone's jeans and pulled him into a chair. Stone huffed, collapsing down.

"Please tell me this is a nightmare," Stone grumbled. "It must be." He turned to Newt. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought you'd freak out."

Mickey bumped his shoulder into Stone. "Which you are."

"I had no idea he was on the same wing as Leo," Stone hissed. "Shit. I should've checked. Why didn't I check? Has he done anything? Said anything?"

Newt lowered his eyes. He shook his head.

"Good." Stone shot a look Shaw's way. "Good. I can't believe—Ow…" He whipped around and glared at Mickey. "Did you have to kick me?"

"Yes, because you're being a dick," Mickey hissed through his teeth like he didn't want Newt to hear. "Remember why we're here."

Stone deflated, finally twisting in his chair to fully face Newt across the table. Newt studied his brothers. Mickey looked the same, grinning broadly, shaved hair, slight tan, but Stone looked haggard. There were bags under his eyes, his cheeks appeared gaunter and grey hairs peppered his patchy beard.

"Are you okay?" Stone asked.

"I'm fine," Newt whispered.

Stone didn't comment, but Mickey hummed. "Well, I'd say you were still ginger, and you have no idea how to dress yourself. I mean, a red T-shirt, brown trousers, what were you thinking?"

"I'm surprised you managed to get a T-shirt over your enormous head."

"I did, just about, but getting these jeans to fit around my balls was the real challenge."

Newt cracked a smile. Mickey grinned back. They both looked at Stone.

His lips lifted, but it was a half-assed attempt at a smile. He took a deep breath and aimed it at the table as he exhaled.

"Apart from the serious colour clash, he looks good, doesn't he?" Mickey nudged Stone, but he didn't reply, so Mickey kept talking, "Stone was convinced we'd get here and you'd be covered in bruises with a busted lip."

"Mickey…" Stone growled.

Mickey held up his hands. "But it's true."

"No bruises." Newt frowned. "Apart from my toe."

"What happened to your toe?" Stone demanded, leaning around the table to get a look despite Newt wearing trainers.

"I hit it on the side of the bunk." Newt tried a small smile. "Not much room in the cells."

"Have you stuck to my rules?" Mickey asked.

"I've only broken three so far."

Mickey's eyebrows shot up his head. "Christ, and you're still walking?" He shifted away from Stone's hard glare. "Sorry…"

"Thank you for the bodyguard," Newt whispered. "He's nice."

Stone relaxed into his chair.

"Just don't go groping him when he's unconscious like last time," Mickey said.

Newt kicked him underneath the table.

Mickey shifted his chair back, laughing.

"So…how you are finding it?" Stone asked.

It had been two weeks, and like a skittish animal with Leo at his side, Newt had explored more and more of his surroundings each day. Leo had taken him on a tour, showing Newt the gym, the library, the ‘cinema' room, a few classrooms, the yard, the association areas, the canteen and the servery. They were no longer living on instant noodles, crisps and chocolate. They went to the servery, picked what they wanted, which was prepared offsite and brought in, then they ate it on their laps in the cell.

There were a few tables and chairs fixed to the wing floor in the event inmates wanted to be social and eat together, but Newt had barely seen anyone use them.

"Prison food sucks."

Both Stone and Mickey smiled.

"It's better than my attempts at cooking," Mickey said.

"True." Newt nodded. "But when you compare it to Jude's?—"

"Jude's…" Mickey made a gargling noise. "His food…I'd kill for it. He needs a Michelin star. I miss his food so bad. It's been so long since he's cooked."

"But he loves cooking."

"He's been too stressed."

"About what?"

Stone raised an eyebrow. "You for one. Luck for another, and there's something else, I can tell, but he denied it when I asked him outright, I'm not going to push. Hopefully he'll come to me when he's ready."

"I surprised him the other night by making him something for dinner," Mickey said. "It wasn't great, I'll be the first to admit that, but it's the thought that counts, right? But Jude didn't see it that way."

"Mickey…" Stone sighed. "He sent me a picture of the chaos you caused. Dirty pans everywhere, flour all over the floor, egg on the ceiling. You set fire to a pan of water for Christ's sake and broke a dozen glasses?—"

"It was two glasses." Mickey crossed his arms. "I knocked them off trying to put out the fire."

"You were making a strawberry pavlova!" Stone shook his head. "It was premade. All you had to do was put it together. Meringue, cream, and throw on a few strawberries for good measure."

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Clearly you've never made a pavlova."

Stone pinched the top of his nose. "Me and Robin went over to clean the place up while Jude got some rest, but of course, Jude had to clean up our ‘attempt' at cleaning up the next day."

"I'm gonna make it up to him," Mickey said.

Newt bit his lip. "How?"

Mickey shrugged. "Do his laundry or something."

"Don't," Stone and Newt said at the same time.

"I'll buy him wine then, crates of the stuff."

Stone pursed his lips, nodding. "That's more like it."

"Anything else you want to discuss about prison life with us seasoned pros?" Mickey asked.

"Don't call us that," Stone grumbled.

Newt frowned, thinking of something to ask. His cheeks reddened. "Do you get used to having a toilet a few feet from your head?"

The toilet and sink were adjacent to the door with a small plastic board, which Newt guessed was for modesty's sake. But it was thigh height and only one side and did absolutely nothing to stop someone from peering down at your crotch.

Stone snorted. "No. It's always horrible."

Mickey crowded closer. "I'll tell you now, one day you'll miss it. I've had dreams at home about being in prison, and when I woke up, I was so confused that I couldn't find a toilet in my cell."

Stone tilted his head. "Well, that explains what I found in the corner of your room once…"

Mickey shoved a smirking Stone.

"That's bullshit," Mickey snapped.

"The worst thing is when the seat is still warm after your cellmate has used it," Stone said, shuddering.

"I don't mind that," Newt admitted.

Both Stone and Mickey recoiled.

"It's cold in the cell, and Leo takes his time, so it's always warm when he's done—what? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You're weird, that's why," Mickey replied. "Are you doing what I told you to? Are you opening the window before you go?"

Newt was pretty certain his face matched his hair. The prisoner at the table next to theirs looked over, frowning.

"Yes," Newt hissed.

"And Leo, is he polite too? Does he open the window? Or do I need to have words with him about prison etiquette?"

"Yes, now can we move on?"

Mickey relaxed into his chair with a sigh. "God, I've missed watching you squirm…"

"How's the bakery?" Newt asked.

"We've reopened," Stone said.

Mickey nodded. "Robin's been trying his best, but he can't sell cakes like our ginger ninja. We've scaled back the kitchen…orders. Bagel's getting bigger. Triton's getting smellier."

"He doesn't smell."

"He stinks, Newt."

"Any fights coming up?" Newt asked. "I'd sure like someone to punch you in the face right now."

"I've got one in six months' time." Mickey smiled, but it dimmed quickly. "It'll be my first one since…" He cleared his throat. "I'm feeling confident. Cayden thinks it'll be an easy one."

"Good, but I still hope your opponent gets one good jab to your face." Newt shifted his focus onto Stone. "And…what about you?"

"Me?" Stone pressed a finger to his chest.

"Yeah, you."

"I'm fine."

"He's been an anxious mess," Mickey said. "Utterly convinced the next time he'd see you would be in a morgue. He's been pacing around the house at all hours."

Stone scrunched up his face but didn't deny what Mickey had said. Newt bit his lip and tentatively reached across the table. Stone's gaze snapped to Newt's hand. His arms shot out, and he clutched Newt back tightly.

It hadn't escaped Newt's notice that all the others in the visiting room with their hands clasped over the table were romantic gestures, wives and girlfriends, but he didn't care. He held on to Stone's hand, and the left-over tension in Stone's shoulders left him as he squeezed back.

They didn't break apart. Stone swallowed Newt's hand in both of his.

Newt closed his eyes and just enjoyed it, not caring if it looked strange.

Neither Stone nor Mickey commented.

They let him bask in the peace a simple touch could give him. He missed fingers tousling his hair, a squeeze of his hand, and a chest-aching hug, hadn't realised how important they were until they'd been stripped away from him. Even Jude, who was more stand-offish, softened towards Newt and he hated that although he could have visits with Stone and Mickey, it would be too suspicious if Jude showed up at Brixton.

Newt's brow furrowed with thoughts of Jude. He twitched his fingers in Stone's hands.

"What is it?" Stone asked.

"Are Jude and Luck really okay?"

Mickey groaned. "Sickly so. I made the mistake of visiting him, got an eyeful…not literally, but they're good. Jude isn't a fan of his tattoo, though."

Newt frowned. "I thought Luck got Jude's and Hope's names on his knuckles?"

"He did, but Jude told me he got another tattoo inspired by him, an animal. I couldn't get it out of Jude which one, but he didn't seem impressed. My money is on giraffe."

"Giraffe?" Newt snorted.

"Yeah, Jude's tall like a giraffe, has the gangly legs of one too."

Stone narrowed his eyes at Mickey. "I wonder what tattoo I'd get to represent you…"

"Something epic, like an eagle or a tiger." Mickey nodded to himself. "Or a bear."

"No." Newt smiled. "Stone's the bear. He gives crushing bear hugs. You'd be something short, stumpy and overly muscular."

Stone rubbed his chin, looking Mickey up and down. "Like a miniature pig on steroids."

Mickey scowled. "You can go fuck yourself."

"I was thinking more bulldog."

"I accept the bulldog, but the pig dig was completely uncalled for." Mickey leaned across the table to look at Newt. "You'd be something small and delicate…a spider monkey."

"What?" Stone side-eyed him. "A spider monkey?"

"But it would have to be a ginger one."

Newt laughed and pulsed his fingers against Stone's. Stone squeezed back while arguing with Mickey that Newt wasn't a spider monkey, he was something else, but when pressed by an irate Mickey, he couldn't come up with anything.

Newt smiled, never letting go of Stone's hand. He didn't let go of him for the rest of the visit, and when it came to an end, both brothers engulfed him in a tight hug that Jenkins had to break up.

"I'll set up the telescope soon, try to get a good picture of Jupiter," Mickey promised.

Stone ruffled Newt's hair. "Say hi to Leo for me."

"I will."

Seeing them walk towards one door while he was ushered through another put rocks into Newt's stomach. His steps were slow and heavy, and he had an irrational urge to fight his way back to his brothers. Stone seemed to be struggling with the same urge; Mickey had to keep shoving him towards the exit.

"Now wasn't that sweet…"

Newt jumped and spun to face Shaw. His gaze was dark, unblinking as he craned his neck down to stare eye to eye with Newt. Then he smiled. It was slow, and his lips pulled back to reveal white teeth, far too many in Newt's opinion. There was no mistaking what animal Shaw would be. A shark.

"Shaw!" Stone shouted. His voice pitched with panic.

Shaw didn't turn to Stone being restrained by Mickey. He snorted, then pushed in front of Newt to leave the room first.

Newt followed behind, last in the queue of prisoners. He glanced back as Jenkins shut the door on Stone and Mickey.

Back on the wing, Newt stepped into the cell without looking at Leo and dragged himself onto the top bed. He lay face down, muffling himself on the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut against the burn of tears.

The bunk shifted. Newt knew Leo had got up, but he didn't turn his face away from the pillow and couldn't bring himself to talk. He listened as Leo shifted around in their cell, then the TV came on. He heard Leo do his reps of sit-ups, and Newt zoned out to the chatter of a daytime quiz show and Leo's breathing.

"It's normal," Leo told him when Newt woke up an hour later.

"What is?" Newt whispered.

"This…low feeling after you've had a visit."

Newt rolled over to face Leo standing by the bed. Leo gave him a sympathetic smile and looked as if he was about to touch Newt but grabbed the metal frame of the bed instead. Newt masked his disappointment with a question. "You feel like this when you have visits?"

Leo snorted. "I don't get any visits, but I've heard prisoners talk about it. They call it the drop."

"Mickey told me about it. He said not to…" Newt sat up and stared accusingly at his pillow. "Damn."

"What?" Leo asked.

"What does it look like I'm doing right now?"

Leo took a step back and looked at Newt. "Looks like you're wallowing."

"Damn it! I'm not supposed to wallow."

Leo gave Newt his favourite smile. The unintimidating one that rounded his cheeks and made the skin around his eyes fork out with crinkles. When he smiled like that, all the flecks in his irises joined and gave his eyes a golden gleam. Newt thought he could look at Leo like that forever.

"So…are you ready for the group session tomorrow?"

Newt took a deep breath, then nodded. It would be his first session with Riley, the therapist and a few of the other prisoners who had Riley as their personal officer. Newt had no clue what the session would entail, but he'd sit through it to get back to his family six months sooner.

"Good, because I'm coming too."

"What?"

Leo shrugged. "I'm your bodyguard. I go with you everywhere."

"Riley will be happy."

"I imagine he will. Now come on, get down, lunch is being served up, and I want to get there before it is just soggy bread and curdled yoghurts."

Newt swung his legs off the side of the bed and dropped down. "You'd be a lion."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Leo said, passing Newt his tray. "But a lion? I'm happy with that."