The man looked at Harolin.

Harolin looked at the man.

Ruaan sat on the bed between them holding his own shirt against his chest and very carefully not moving.

The new officer was built like someone who had been angry their entire life and decided to put it somewhere productive. He was tall. Wide. The kind of jaw that had never been soft. He had his clothes bundled under one arm and his bag in the other hand and he was standing in the middle of Harolin’s room in nothing but tight boxers like this was a completely acceptable situation.

"Room 96," the man said. His voice was flat and deep and had zero apology in it. "My key number is 96. This room is 69." He held up the key. "I misread it since it was dark."

Ruaan looked at the key and looked at the door number he could see from the bed and looked back at the man.

That was genuinely possible.

The numbers were similar and the corridor lighting was bad and the man had clearly just arrived after a long trip because his bag looked like it had been packed in a hurry and he still had the slightly unfocused look of someone running on too little sleep.

Ruaan understood.

Harolin did not look like he understood.

Harolin was still holding Ruaan by the arm, standing slightly in front of him, looking at the new officer with the expression he used when he had decided something and was waiting for the right moment to act on it.

The new officer looked at Harolin’s hand on Ruaan’s arm. Then at Ruaan’s grey uniform shirt on the desk. Then at Ruaan on the bed with no shirt on. His eyes moved slowly and deliberately and when they finished moving he looked at Harolin and said, "Officer and prisoner relationships are strictly prohibited. That is in the code of conduct. Section two, paragraph one. Any officer found in a compromising position with a prisoner will be reported immediately and face disciplinary action."

He said it like he was reading from a document he had memorised a long time ago.

Ruaan pulled away from Harolin’s grip immediately.

"Nothing is going on," Ruaan said. He stood up and put his hands out. "I promise you. Nothing. I was having problems in my cell. Someone has been harassing me. Officer Crowe was just helping me by letting me sleep somewhere safe." He put as much sincerity into his face as he could manage at two in the morning. "That’s all. We are completely innocent."

The officer looked at him.

Then looked at Harolin.

Harolin tilted his head slightly and said, "I don’t particularly care what you report."

Ruaan closed his eyes briefly.

"He doesn’t mean that," Ruaan said quickly, turning back to the officer. "He’s just tired. We’re both tired. It’s two in the morning and nothing happened here and I was just leaving so..."

"The code of conduct exists for a reason," the officer said, ignoring Ruaan completely and looking at Harolin. "The moment lines start blurring between officers and prisoners, the authority structure of the entire facility breaks down. I won’t pretend I didn’t see this."

"Good for you," Harolin said.

"Harolin," Ruaan said.

"You’re a new officer," Harolin continued, completely unbothered. "You walked into the wrong room in your underwear. I would think carefully about which conversation you want to be having right now."

The officer’s jaw tightened.

"I’ll forgive it this time," he said. Each word came out individually and with weight. "This time. But if I find you two together again I will report it and I will not be negotiating." He picked up the bag from the floor. "Move your prisoner back to his cell."

He walked out, still in his boxers.

The door clicked shut.

Ruaan sat back down on the bed and let out a breath that came from somewhere very deep. He sat in quiet for a moment and just breathed.

Then Harolin crouched down in front of him.

They were at eye level. Harolin looked at his face and said, "Why were you begging him like that?"

Ruaan looked at him.

He reached out and put his hand against the side of Harolin’s face without thinking about it first. Just placed it there. Harolin went very still but didn’t move away.

"I don’t want you to get in trouble," Ruaan said simply.

Harolin opened his mouth.

"I had a really good sleep here," Ruaan said, standing up and reaching for his shirt at the same time. "Best sleep I’ve had since I arrived. Thank you for that." He pulled the shirt over his head. "But I can’t keep coming here now that he’s around. He’ll be watching."

"Ru—"

"The food in the cafeteria tomorrow is probably going to be terrible again." He picked up his shoes. "You should complain to whoever handles that. It’s been bad since Monday."

"Would you stop talking for one—"

"Get some sleep." Ruaan walked to the door. "You look tired."

He opened it. Stepped out. Pulled it closed behind him.

The corridor was empty and quiet and he stood there for exactly three seconds before walking back toward the cell block with his shoes in his hand. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

.

.

Harolin sat on the bed.

He looked at his watch.

2:04 AM.

He looked at the door.

He had been trying to say the same thing three times and Ruaan had talked over him every single time without appearing to do it on purpose, which was somehow more frustrating than if it had been deliberate.

What he had been trying to say was simple.

The new officer was just an officer. A regular officer with a code of conduct manual memorised and a bad habit of reading keys upside down. He had no authority over Harolin. No rank that came close. Harolin was a private general. He had clearance that this man had never heard of. He could make one phone call and have the new officer’s entire file reviewed by people who would find something.

There was nothing to worry about.

He looked at the spot on his own face where Ruaan’s hand had been.

He clenched his fist on his knee.

"I need to deal with that new officer," he said to the empty room.

He said it quietly. To no one.

Then he lay back on the bed that still smelled faintly of Ruaan and stared at the ceiling until his alarm went off.

.

.

Wednesday training hit the field hard.

Grey and blue uniforms spread out across the packed earth under a sky that had decided to be cooperative for once. The gym was for the higher ranks today, which meant the field was loud and crowded and nobody was happy about the sun.

Two officers stood at the edge of the field.

Harolin. And beside him, the new officer, now fully dressed, arms folded, looking at the group with the expression of a man who had been sent somewhere specifically to make it harder.

"Ten laps," the new officer said.

The sound that went through the group was the sound of people accepting something terrible.

Ruaan stood in the grey section and looked at the perimeter and thought about his legs and thought about Harolin’s ten laps from his first week and thought about how much had happened since then and started running.

He ran.

He was better than he had been. But it wasn’t that good since he wasn’t fast. But better. His legs didn’t shake until lap four now instead of lap two and he could breathe through lap five without it feeling like his lungs were personally offended.

Lap five.

He was on lap five when the new officer appeared beside him.

He wasn’t even running. Just walking at the edge of the track, watching. He let Ruaan come around the bend and then fell into step for a few seconds and said, without any particular change in tone, "Everyone else is on lap seven. This is your fifth."

Ruaan kept running. "I know."

"Are you that slow or are you secretly a woman?"

Ruaan stopped.

He turned and looked at the officer with an expression that he felt in his jaw first.

The officer looked back at him with a completely straight face. He continued before Ruaan could respond.

"Never mind," he said. "I saw your chest last night. The nipples were pink." He said it like a doctor noting a symptom. "You’re definitely a man. Just slow."

Ruaan stood on the track and stared at him.

The officer turned and walked back toward the edge of the field without any indication that he had said anything unusual.

Ruaan stood there for another three seconds.

Then he started running again because the alternative was standing still while his brain tried to process what had just happened and he didn’t have the time.

.

.

Harolin watched from the far side of the field.

He had watched the new officer walk to Ruaan. H

He had watched him say something. He had watched Ruaan stop running and make that face and the officer walked away.

He did not know what had been said.

He did not need to know what had been said.

The new officer had walked up to Ruaan on the track and said something directly to him and that was already enough information.

Harolin unclenched his fist.

Clenched it again.

"That man," he said quietly, to no one, watching the officer cross back toward the equipment, "needs to stay away from my Ru."

He stood with that for a moment.

Then he looked back at the track where Ruaan was running his sixth lap with his chin up and his legs doing their best.

His fist stayed clenched.