The expected footsteps never came. Then, my bladder shouted out a warning too harsh to be ignored. If I didn't leave my hiding spot right that second, blood on my uniform wouldn't be the only stain I'd have to explain away.

I gripped the knob with a trembling hand and turned it as slowly as it was possible to do so, wincing at the telltale 'click' that disengaged the lock. Opening it the tiniest sliver, I peered down the hallway. Empty silence greeted my gaze.

Taking in a deep breath, I slowly, silently pulled the door open wide enough to slip through, taking one last cautionary look around before exposing myself. The hallway was as empty as it had been a second ago. I slipped out, turning left and making my way, limping, back toward the safe confines of the library. Not surprisingly, the need to empty my bladder disappeared as soon as I was safely inside.

Slipping into and being instantly calmed by the familiar surroundings, I flipped the lights on and made my way to the far corner behind Corinne's always-messy desk. On the shelf behind her hotplate, teakettle, teabags and assorted mugs lay a fairly large box emblazoned with a red cross on its white plastic finish. She'd put it there after the last riot and it was fairly well stocked with the requisite bandages, tape, scissors, hydrogen peroxide, alcohol swabs and quite a few drugs more commonly seen in hospitals, pharmacies and, in some cases, on the mean streets than in a prison library. There were even syringes to inject some of the more potent, and highly illegal, drugs.

Secreting myself in the shadows, I quickly stripped down to my underwear, letting the jumpsuit puddle down around my ankles as I took my first good look at the wound Cassandra had given me.

It was, to be blunt, ugly. The cut itself wasn't that deep. It had already stopped bleeding, for the most part. But the bite mark was a different story altogether. There, on my thigh, outlined in vivid, angry red, was the perfect imprint of Cassandra's front teeth, upper and lower. The puncture wounds looked like a dentist's mold in reverse.

"Jesus." I whispered the oath as I gingerly fingered the lividity, watching it blanch a sickly yellowed white before turning back to red when the pressure was removed. The punctures bled sluggishly and I supposed that was one of the few good things about this whole experience. I tried to think back to when I'd received my last tetanus shot, well knowing that human bites were more dangerous than dog bites could ever be. Then I remembered that I'd received one in the Emergency Room after I'd been beaten by Peter, which, of course, put it well within the ten year limit of the vaccine's protection.

Reaching into the kit, I grabbed the bottle of peroxide, twisted it open, and upended it, allowing the liquid to flow unhindered onto my thigh. The peroxide hissed and bubbled as it seeped into the wounds and I hissed right along with it, wincing against the stinging in my leg.

Then I grabbed a rolled bandage and blotted off the excess liquid, careful not to touch the wound. "Ok, Angel, what next? You cleaned the wound. You probably should bandage it, right?" My whispered words sounded loud in the emptiness of the library.

Agreeing with myself, I opened a sterile gauze pad, placed it on top of the wound, and wrapped a rolled bandage around my thigh several times before grabbing a roll of tape and securing the wrapping.

Then I pulled my jumpsuit back over the whole deal, wincing at the bloodstain which liberally coated one thigh. I'd have to figure out a way to disguise that when I walked back to my cell for the night.

Knowing that infection would more than likely set in no matter how well I had cleaned the bite marks, I pawed through Corinne's little pill factory, looking for antibiotics. When I was a young girl, I'd stepped on a nail and the doctor had given me Keflex. I figured that would be good for bite punctures as well, and when I saw a bottle labeled with that name, I grabbed it, slipping it into the front of my jumpsuit with another roll of bandages and some sterile gauze pads and zipping back up.

As I was closing up the first-aid kit, the warning buzzer for lights out sounded. Looking around quickly, I picked up the largest book I could find and held it awkwardly against my leg, hoping to cover the blood stain just long enough to get back to my cell. It wasn't great, as disguises go, but it would have to do. Hopefully, I wouldn't pass too many people in the hallways.

I managed to make it back to my cell without passing anyone who thought to give me much more than a quick glance. Once there, I stripped out of my bloodied uniform, tossed it in the laundry bin, and slid in between the cool sheets with a sense of utter relief. Then, remembering, I hobbled over to the sink and swallowed two antibiotic pills before returning to bed.

Sleep came quickly to me that night.

The next day was Saturday, and as soon as the in-cell headcount was completed, the sounds of guards opening the cell doors, keys rattling loudly in ancient locks, woke me from a sleep plagued by nightmares.

The sheets were sweat-soaked and tangled around me, and as I struggled to get them loose, a shadow crossed into the cell. I looked up to see Ice standing there, an almost apologetic half-smile gracing her flawless features.

As much as I wanted to see her last night, that's as much as I didn't want to see her this morning. There was no way I could let her know what had happened to me, and if she got close enough, that was exactly what was going to happen. With, I was quite sure, disastrous results.

Ice's piercing eyes narrowed as I reached up to wipe my stringy, damp hair away from my forehead. I could feel the heat gusting off my skin like a furnace and willed myself not to tremble. "Are you alright?" she asked, taking one step into my cell.

"Yes! Yes, I'm . . . ."

Her eyes narrowed still further, till they were glittering blue slits, peeking from beneath lowered, elegant brows.

"No. I'm not alright. I don't feel too well."

And that was the absolute truth, as far as that went. My leg felt swollen and tight, like an overcooked sausage. Its continual throbbing matched the headache thumping sickly behind my eyes. I'd also managed to forget that when I was young, Keflex had made me violently ill, killing all the good bacteria in my digestive tract and giving me a form of colitis that made me beg God to just kill me and end my misery.

The night before, those same prayers winged their way Heavenward.

Ice took another step forward. "What's wrong?"

Oh boy. She would have to ask me the one question I didn't have the answer to. Well, not the false one I needed to give her. Quick, Angel. Think. Something. Anything. "Cramps," I said finally.

Her eyes widened in understanding, then narrowed again. "You're a little early, aren't you?"

Oh shit. "Um . . .yeah. I am. I think it's stress." I attempted a weak smile which I knew fell flat. "You know, with my case and all."

"Are you sure that's all there is? You look pretty feverish to me."

"Sometimes that happens," I responded, trying to get my muddled mind to think quickly. "When they're really bad like this."

Another step and she was almost at my bedside. "I could give you a massage. Sometimes loosening those muscles helps."

I sat up quickly, stifling a groan and pulling the sheet up to my chin. "No! No, that's ok. See . . .when I'm in a lot of pain like this, I don't like to be touched." C'mon, Ice. Get the hint already, please? Lying to you like this is killing me.

Ice pulled back slowly, her face expressionless. "Alright." She crossed her arms over her chest, disbelief showing clearly on her face. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No. Wait . . .yes. There is. Um . . .sometimes milk makes me feel a little better. Is there any way you could go down to the cafeteria or the commissary and pick some up for me?" I was going on the most desperate hope that the milk would help coat my stomach so I could at least somewhat tolerate the antibiotic I needed to have.

She smiled slightly. "Yeah. I can do that."

I contained my sigh of relief. Two birds with one stone. Temporarily at least. "Great. Thank you."

She nodded, that calculating expression still in her eyes, then turned and left the cell. When she was gone, I slumped back against the wall. "Damn you, Psycho. Damn you and damn your crazy obsessions. Damn you for making me lie like this. Why can't you just leave us alone?"

Blinking my tears back, I lifted the sheet and quickly unwrapped the bandage covering my thigh. The area around the bite marks was reddish-purple, swollen, and hot to the touch. The wounds themselves were weeping a cloudy yellow fluid which I took to be infection. At least the knife wound seemed to be healing without problems. So far.

Ice returned just as I was putting the finishing touches on my bandage. Quickly dropping the sheet over my body, I managed a smile as she walked into the cell bearing three half-pint cartons of milk. She handed me one as she set the other two down on the nightstand. Opening the carton, I downed the entire contents in a couple of gulps. It was cold, smooth and refreshing, especially to my dehydrated body. "God, that's good," I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

Smiling, Ice leaned down slightly and wiped up a trace of milk from my upper lip with her thumb. "Ya look better without the moustache," she pronounced, joking.

I managed a weak laugh that was interrupted by a jaw-popping yawn. "God, I guess I'm more tired than I thought."

"You do look pretty wiped out," she agreed, reaching down and brushing the hair from my eyes. "You're still pretty warm, too. You aren't getting sick again, are you?"

Snuggling down under the sheet once again, I gave her my best convincing look, which probably wasn't all that convincing, to tell the truth. "No, I feel fine. Just in pain from these damn cramps. I should be good to go by tomorrow, or at the latest, Monday." Which was, of course, yet another lie in a speech full of them. While I had hopes that the infection would be gone by the new week's beginning, I would definitely not be good to go. Especially not the type of 'going' that Ice's close presence was conjuring visions of deep within the recesses of my muddled brain.

I tensed as she grabbed the sheet, but relaxed when she simply pulled it tighter under my chin before bending down to place a kiss on my forehead. "Alright then. I have to take care of some things with Critter and Pony. I'll try to come back this evening and send someone to check up on you periodically, alright?"

"No. That's ok. I'll be fine. Really. The way I feel, I'll probably just sleep straight through to tomorrow morning anyway." I yawned again to make my story convincing.

Crooking me a smile as she straightened, she fiddled with my sheet for a brief second more before backing away. "I'll be back here tonight to check in on you. And I'll be sending some of the Amazons up during the day just to make sure you don't need anything."

I gave her an overly-dramatic sigh. "Oh alright, Ms. Warden wannabe."

She threw back her own mock-hurt expression in return. "Fine. Just for that, I'll send Critter up here every hour with a thermometer and some lube to take your temperature . . .the right way." Her eyes were positively sparkling with glee.

I gulped. "I'll be good," I squeaked.

Winking, she gave me one of her full-on smiles, leaving me dazzled. "I know you will be. Sweet dreams, my Angel. Feel better soon."

Pain? What pain?

PART 15.

MIRACULOUSLY, I SUPPOSE, I managed to make it through the rest of Saturday and all of Sunday without any major incidents. The milk did its job, allowing me to keep down the antibiotics which, in turn, did their job in decreasing the swelling, redness and pain in my leg so that, by the time Monday morning rolled around, bite and knife wounds were healing nicely and I was able to once again dress in my uniform without an appreciable bulge showing.

Still, after the cell doors had been opened for the day, I waited an additional few minutes to be sure Ice was safely down at the auto shop before venturing forth to start my Monday. The woman had a sixth sense about things, and I knew this weekend had pushed my credibility to the limit, if she had even bought my act at all, and the jury was still out on that particular count, to use an apt analogy.

After a solitary breakfast, I made my way down to the library. The tension I'd missed by playing 'possum all weekend returned with a vengeance. I'm sure it had never really left, but the more or less peaceful island of my solitary cell kept me in calm waters over the weekend.

As I walked, I counted no less than fifteen separate incidents, mostly arguments between guards, inmates and guards, and inmates. Thankfully, none of the ones I saw denigrated into out and out physical confrontations. While I felt much better, I wasn't yet ready to test my body's healing by trying to get between two angry women with hurting on their mind.

As I slipped into the sanctuary of the library, I did so with a sigh of relief. Corinne greeted me with a smile. She bustled over to the table and sat down next to me, her hands folded on the scarred wood, her expression expectant. "So?"

I looked at her, confused. "So . . .what?"

"How do you feel?"

"Fine?"

She smiled. "Good. That's good."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "What's going on, Corinne?"

Her own eyes went wide. "Whatever do you mean, Angel?"

"Alright," I spat. "Out with it. Why is everyone in this damn prison acting like they're in need of some serious laxative therapy and why are you sitting there like you just ate the canary."

"Actually, I noticed that the natives were getting a little restless too, now that you mention it," Corinne commented, adjusting her glasses. "Not sure why, though."

"You?" I asked, shocked at the admission. "The woman who knows when someone's gonna sneeze before they do it? The great Corinne, Oracle of the Bog?"

She frowned at me. "I'm hardly perfection personified, Angel."

I laughed. "I'm going to have to write that one down."

Folding her meaty arms across her abundant chest, Corinne gave me her best affronted glare. "Fine. If you don't want to hear the good news, which, let me tell you, I kept safe from the ravaging hordes of inquisitive little noses just for you, then you can trot your little fanny right out of this little library of mine."

Having, by this time, known Corinne more than four years, I could usually tell when her hurt was real or feigned. By the look in her eye, I knew she was leading me on, as was usually the case with her. Still, I decided to do the honorable thing and give in. Besides, I really wanted to know what the good news was. "Please, Corinne," I began, with as much faux-docility in my voice and manner as I could manage without laughing, "I'm very sorry if I offended you with my attitude. Please say you forgive me?"

"Oooo. You're good, Angel."

I smirked. "Thank you. Now, what's the news? Or do you want me on my knees, begging."

"Don't tempt me, child. Just seeing you in that position would almost make getting torn into five equal pieces by Ice worth the pain." Her dark eyes were filled with mirth.

"Corinne? The news? Please?"

Grinning at me, she reached through her shawl and into the folds of her jumpsuit, returning with a piece of paper in her hand. "Early Saturday morning, Phyllis came looking for you about a phone call. Ice had been up to see you already and told us you were a bit under the weather, so I asked Phyllis if she could take a message. She agreed, and a short time later, came back with this." She held the paper tauntingly, the printed area for her eyes only.

Groaning in frustration, I threw my hands up in the air. "Come on, Corinne!"

She saw my groan and raised me an over-dramatic sigh. "Oh, fine. Be that way. Here." Slamming the note face down, she pushed it across the table to me.

"Thank you," I responded with forced politeness as I picked up the paper and turned it over. Printed across the blank tableau in Corinne's bold, distinctive hand, were three simple words. "We did it!"

Cocking my head in confusion, I looked back up at my friend who was trying unsuccessfully to hold back a grin. "Who did what?" I asked. "Corinne, who's this message from?"

Corinne let her smile show through. "Your lawyer, Angel. It was Donita on the phone. She didn't give out any more information than that, but Phyllis said that she told her to make sure you called her at her office when you were feeling up to it."

"And that would be right now!" Grinning like a madwoman, I jumped to my feet, the printed note crumpled in my hands. With a whooping yell that almost startled Corinne into a heart attack, I left the library at a run.

When I returned, my color was high, my chest was laboring, and my eyes were wet with happy tears. I nearly bowled Corinne over as I wrapped her portly form in a huge bear-hug, sending her glasses skittering off her nose to hang on the silver chain she kept around her neck. I planted a big kiss on her dry, weathered cheek, then released her, stepping away, laughing.

"Well, I can only hope to be the bearer of more good news in the future," she said, bemusedly touching her cheek and smiling dazedly at me.

"I feel great!" Throwing my arms out, I twirled around the library, missing the assembled furniture and patrons only by luck. "She did it!"

My friend gave me an infinitely patient smile usually reserved for two-year-olds who have hidden mommy's wallet and don't possess the requisite verbal skills to tell her where it might be. "I think we've all gotten that bit by now, Angel. The question here is, what is 'it'?"

"Donita talked to the judge on Friday evening. After seeing the evidence, he's agreed to overturn the verdict!"