The cuffs were cold as ice and unforgiving, biting into the skin of his wrists as they snapped shut. The moment the steel shackled him, a surge of panic and claustrophobia seized Goku's heart, tearing the breath from his lungs in one ragged swoop. He thought he might pass out.

"Son Goku, you are under arrest for the murder of Mr Chin Iisou. You do not have to say anything, but anything you do say will be noted and used as evidence in a court of law."

The words shattered Goku's dumbstruck nausea and he let out a cry, pulling at first on the cuffs, then the hands gripping his upper arms that were dragging him out of his flat and across the darkened street to an idling van. Deep down Goku knew his resistance was a futile effort, but if there was some way of making them stop, making them see he wasn't in the wrong here–

"No, wait, you don't understand! He wasn't – wait! He wasn't normal! I had to! He was gonna – wait! I had to do it, I had to stop him!"

"Save it for the judge, kid," someone rasped into his ear, the scent of coffee, stale cigarette smoke, and perspiration assaulting his nose. Floundering in the bonds, Goku tried again to reason, but it was no good – the police weren't listening to him. He was yanked hard that final few steps to the van; something snapped in his arm and he let out a wail of pain, but it, too, went ignored. Without preamble, they bundled him into the back of the van, slamming the doors shut with a resonating bang.

Huddled on a grimy floor in the darkness, Goku closed his eyes against the pain of his dislocated shoulder. The engine sputtered, rumbled to life. As the van jolted into the street, darts of white-hot agony struck him as he was helplessly rolled on the van's floor, unable to support himself.

The journey to the station was one of the longest fifteen minutes of Goku's life.

* * *

Chang'an Prison was a veritable fly trap for those convicted of First Degree. Goku's introduction to it was on a rainy Sunday in April, not long after his birthday, when he found himself marched into a stoic, white-washed stone room, where his arm was immediately and unceremoniously popped back into its socket. So far, Goku had been passed back and forth between a number of people, all of whose faces seemed to blend together to create a confusing amalgamation of sneers, glares, and barked orders. Everyone seemed to wear the same sharp, formal black, probably to keep from distinguishing between captors.

Goku knew they were doing a job, since everyone was in a hurry – they rushed him from place to place, pulled him up staircases and in and out of rooms, corridors, holding bays, showers. Within the swirl of roaring voices, oppressive colours, movement, and speed, Goku became dizzy and disoriented. When he was finally dragged out of a wood-panelled courtroom, he'd been given a new mantle – his official title was now murderer.

It didn't seem to matter that there had been a good reason for what he'd done.

He was left alone, his mind swirling and stomach turning over unpleasantly, in another bare, white-washed room that could've been on the moon for all Goku knew. Tired and aching, he slumped in on himself and wished for it to be over, for someone to just slow down and treat him like a person rather than a goat being herded from area to area.

After what could've been four minutes or four hours, three black-suited men silently entered the room, staring at him like he had a second head, like a specimen on a cutting board. He was abruptly stripped down to his bare arse, then left alone again to freeze his balls off for what felt like another hour, before someone deemed it long enough a wait and came to cast his underwear on the floor, apparently the only personal item he would be allowed to keep. He was then tossed a loose pair of navy cotton trousers and a matching blue button-down shirt, which he quickly slipped into. The clothes were a little too big and hung off his body, but it was better than butt-naked, Goku supposed. Finally, one of the men set down a pair of black ankle boots, which Goku squeezed his feet into. They had apparently only guessed his size, but it would have to do – he wasn't about to put in any complaints.

When a man in a striking pale grey suit entered, followed by three new black-suits, the first thing he barked was, "What the hell – he's still got his head gear. All right, kid, lose the band." Goku assumed he was the warden, a silver-haired man of an indeterminate age who passed a quick, supercilious gaze over Goku before jotting something down on a thick, card clipboard.

Goku reached up to his gold coronet. "I can't. I mean, I can't take it off."

The warden lowered his clipboard and raised his eyes, this time surveying him more closely and with evident scepticism. "Young man, this is no play house. We've got rules in place for a purpose and that metal you're carrying could be considered a dangerous item. If someone got a hold of it, they might think it a short cut to pummel someone else over the head for a cigarette. Our boys are a versatile bunch – very resourceful. This is why we have to be cautious."

"I'd give it over," said Goku, without hesitation. "But see, I can't remove it." He tugged on the band to demonstrate, hoping the warden would leave him be. "When I was brought to the city, the... lady, that showed me the way, put this on me. She said never to take it off."

The warden stared at him for a minute longer, then signalled to the three guards who had followed him in. They stepped forward, two flanking Goku's sides, one in front of him. Slowly, the guard in front reached up and also tested the coronet. After wiggling it left and right, then front to back, he finally pursed his mouth and stepped back.

"Seems genuine," he said. "I can't budge that thing."

The warden narrowed his eyes, but said no more on the subject, for which Goku was thankful. He himself didn't really understand the limiter he wore, only that it was there for a very good reason. One he wasn't willing to test out.

"Take him through."

Their brief meeting was apparently over. The guards advanced and led him to a door set against the back wall, through which stretched a long, unkempt corridor below stark yellow strip lights that hummed and flickered in the dampness, their plastic coverings speckled with the corpses of burnt flies. The stone beneath Goku's boots was patchy with moisture. From the look of his surroundings, almost anything could be awaiting him at the end – a landscape much like this, damp and sparse and dim, almost like a place time and people had forgotten. That thought almost sent him sprawling in a fit of terror, but a firm hand on his shoulder relentlessly steered him ahead.

When the doors at the end of the corridor were unlocked and opened, Goku found quite the opposite picture awaiting him. Perhaps the musty corridor had been a rouse to unnerve him. Well, it had worked.

Chang'an Prison's belly was spacious and clean, crafted out of iron, plastic, and stone. Railings led up a set of metal-grated stairs, twisting up to reach seven balconied floors that overlooked the long rows of tables and benches laid out to one side on the ground floor, next to a shuttered area Goku assumed was the kitchens. More of those white-washed walls encased the entire body of the prison, except for the ceiling above, where a large skylight revealed a scene of endless, rolling grey clouds.

The noise hit him immediately, like he'd run headlong into a wall of raucous shouting, whooping, and laughter. There was movement everywhere, surging towards him, flocking around even as the guards at his sides, back, and front warned the other prisoners to give them room. A sea of the same navy cotton Goku wore pressed in on him.

One of the guards drew a baton from his belt and hastily thumped it against a nearby table. As if a switch had been flicked, the excitement dulled down to a low murmur among the crowds of men at either side. Every face was turned to Goku, all eyes fixed on his entrance.

Goku's stomach twisted up into a knot and he faltered, tripping on a loose bootlace and almost toppling. A barking snicker rose and someone coughed something that sounded disturbingly like "new meat".

"This way, boy," said the guard in front, stepping in front of him and indicating to the staircase ahead.

Goku wasn't a fearful person by nature – he knew he was fast and strong, able to navigate reasonably well and more than adept at self-defense. But stepping onto that floor with every man in the joint summing him up was a little like being re-born, but not to a new and exciting future; rather, it felt like being thrust into a terrifying world where everyone knew each other and he was the spectacle being laid out and prepared for dissection.

Goku followed the guard along the floor, keeping his focus on the faded blue linoleum at his feet. He might as well have still been naked, for all his courage was helping out. When he risked a glance up, he noticed how a lot of the men had crowded around vulture-like in their eagerness, leaving only a narrow walkway for the procession. Figuring it best to sum up his surroundings as early as possible, Goku passed a brave glance over the unfamiliar, nameless crowd. The looks he was garnering were more frightening than any judge or jury, any slam of a wooden hammer, any clink of a holding bay door.

Someone wolf-whistled and another bout of laughter scattered throughout the prison.

Goku set his jaw, eyes now darting to and fro with paranoia. Somewhere at the back of his mind he knew they were doing it to scare him, much like his journey here, but he couldn't shake off the despair gnawing a hole in his gut.

A guy with sharp red eyes and long, vivid red hair caught his gaze, and offered a smirk Goku was unable to decipher the meaning of. The man standing beside the redhead had a neutral demeanour, altogether pretty green eyes, and raven black hair; he gave Goku a small, twitching smile of acknowledgement, which was oddly reassuring in the midst of the pressing scrutiny. Goku felt like heading towards him, that single face of comfort, but knew he couldn't.

The stairs ahead were close and thankfully devoid of people. Goku focused on them, willing himself to not stumble again. He wasn't usually this clumsy, but the barely bated interest from the other inmates was thick and smothering like a heavy blanket, and with so many new things to take in he couldn't gather his bearings.

As he reached the railings and the guard led him up, Goku spotted a striking blond man in the crowd, standing right beside the stairs, surveying him with an intense, burning purple gaze that set his skin on edge, made the hairs at the back of his neck rise. Goku wasn't sure, but it looked like the man was glowering at him, as if he harboured some personal grudge. Goku quickly tore his eyes away, lest he swallow his tongue under that unforgiving expression and the overwhelming symmetry of the man's beautiful face.

He wondered what on earth someone like that was doing in a place like this, but then he remembered that he had befallen such a fate, that nobody had believed him when he'd tried to explain, that nobody had even indicated they were willing to listen.

Once on the stairs, Goku felt he could breathe out again. As he ascended, the chatter rose up behind him, as if a record had been paused momentarily and then released to pick up speed and sound. Beneath the steady drone, rain had begun hammering on the expansive skylights above, the clouds growing a heavier grey by the minute; it was more than a little depressing, and still would've been even under better circumstances.

"This here's your home for the next life sentence," the guard casually said, glancing over his shoulder as Goku followed him up. "You might make a lotta friends in this place, boy. Then again, you might make a lotta enemies. It's up to you, kid. Just don't push your luck or forget for one second why everyone's in here."

Goku supposed he should be grateful for the advice, but everything about the situation felt inherently wrong to him and he couldn't even muster a nod of acknowledgement to the guard's words.

"Recreation's winding down now – soon the boys'll be back in the cells. We're then into Reflection Time," the guard continued. "That's two hours after breakfast, two after lunch, one after Recreation, then two more after dinner, before moving into Exercise Yard. Gives you time to wind down after social activities, put aside any grudges built... 'reflect' on shit, if you know what I'm saying."

"Got it," Goku said dismally, absorbing the fact that this guy was informing him all too merrily of what his life would be for the next Heaven-knew how many years – maybe forever. They reached the second level, rounded the platform, and began the climb to the third.

"Getting here at Reflection Time's probably lucky. Means you'll get to meet your roomie and get acquainted." There was a smirk peppering the guard's tone. "Our sixth and seventh floor inmates have singular rooms, but because you're a third you'll be sharing. Everyone below sixth has to share. Just be glad you don't have first level. Those bastards live close to the main lavvies – the stink in the summer's fuckin' putrid."

Goku swallowed, bile rising in his throat. He still felt trapped in a perpetual surreality, like this was all a bad dream and he'd soon wake up, back at his flat, all alone. Consciousness was taking its sweet time reaching him, though; Goku was starting to think he might not emerge from this nightmare.

On the third level, Goku was walked along a gridded path, to the end of a row of cells. The guard stopped before a scratched, heavily graffitied metal door.

"This is you."

Goku blinked, staring at the peeling '39' label that was set above a small mesh window and flap. He assumed the flap was used to pass things into the cell without having to open the door; the window for the guards to check up on inmates.

"Got you a real hot one, boy, but let me tell you – he's a prickly bitch." That earlier amusement was back in the guard's tone. Goku didn't like the man at all – he took way too much pride in relating bad news. "A real ice queen, that one, heh." The guard pushed the door open. Behind, one of the other guards nudged Goku with his baton, prompting him into the cell. "He don't associate with many, 'cept those two queers up on fifth. I reckon he thinks he's better than everyone else. Heard he was a rich kid on the outside, too." A derisive snort. "Hell, money's got no bearing here, but that guy..." The guard shook his head, then turned a toothy grin on Goku that left a vile taste in Goku's mouth. "Let's see if you last a week with him."

Sidestepping Goku, the guard headed out, but he did not close or bolt the door as Goku half-expected. No, after all, as the guard had said, Recreation was almost over – soon Goku would meet the guy he was sharing with. It felt like an angry swarm of bees had started roiling in his stomach, aiming little stings to the inside of him. Staring around the cell and noting it wasn't as cold and drab as he'd first imagined didn't quell his nerves much, either.

Goku had often jokingly thought of his flat as a shoebox. The cell was a fraction of the size and quite narrow. The few sterile accoutrements seemed dull and worn, with a scarred washbasin on one side – a stack of plastic cups on its ledge – a scratched mirror set above it, a weathered radiator tacked against the window wall, and a grey metal-framed bunk bed pushed down the right side with clean-looking sheets and blankets tucked into the frame. It was warm in temperature, though Goku felt no warmth in his bones as he anxiously waited. If the guy turned out to be as intolerable as the guard had said, Goku had a nasty feeling the rest of his sentence was going to be hell. Close quarters was one thing, but this was sharing a space big enough for just one person.

A siren screamed shrilly and Goku spun on the spot, looking up to the source of the sound. On the wall above the door, a speaker was set on a thick, plastic bracket. The artificial alert whirred five times, then what followed set Goku's blood cold. He backed towards the window until his hip bumped the radiator and he could go no further.

Stampeding footsteps thundered up the metal stairs. Recreation was over. The inmates were returning to their cells. Their voices carried like a ravenous storm, a chaotic, loud jumble of swears and curt barks of laughter, taunting and whistling.

Goku curled his fists around the radiator rungs, ignoring the burn. He bit his lip, watching the door. A couple of men walked past, casting curious stares into cell 39; Goku noted how one of them nudged the other and whispered something with a grin before they moved on. Heart now somewhere in the region of his throat, Goku looked around the cell for something, anything to help. On the lower bunk he could see a folded newspaper and a lighter had been casually tossed. Maybe if he picked up the paper and pretended to read, he wouldn't look so much like a nervous animal when... oh, shit.

Too late Goku noted the shuffle of feet on the lino and the figure appearing in the doorway, stepping in.

The last thing Goku expected was to find himself face to face with the willowy blond he'd spotted downstairs. The man still wore the same expression from earlier, too – an unwelcoming scowl, underlined with a vague bored curiosity.

"Hey," said Goku, figuring staring dumbly at the guy probably wouldn't win him any favours. "I'm Goku. Son Goku." Holding out his hand in a gesture of good will, he mustered every last well of courage he possessed and smiled.

The man ignored it, striding to the bed and retrieving the newspaper from the lower bunk. Perching on the edge of the mattress, he unfolded the paper, then settled the loose, sprawled pages over his lap. Goku wasn't sure what to do with himself; he found once again he was staring at the pretty guy, wondering if this was how things would be from now on. He wanted to ask the guy's name, since they'd be living together, but he couldn't locate his voice now his introduction had been so blatantly rebuffed.

"You're blocking my light." The man's voice was startlingly lower than Goku would've imagined from the look of him, a deep, lazy rumble – almost a drawl.

"O-oh, sorry." Goku moved away from the window, going towards the door. It was still open, but almost as he noted it the buzzer sounded again, ringing three long, measured times. Suddenly the door hummed as if electricity was being passed into it, then slowly swung shut with resounding, metallic clicks of many inner locks.

At that point, it all came crashing down on Goku like fragments of an obliterated meteor, exactly where he was, how long a time he was facing, how busy the prison seemed yet how utterly alone and lost he was. Sucking in a laboured breath, he realised he couldn't lose it here, not in front of this angry guy he didn't know. Taking another, much deeper lungful of air to calm himself, Goku steeled his nerves and turned back to the bed.

The blond was staring at him now with mild interest, almost as if he'd been waiting for the panic attack that'd threatened to consume Goku. With a soft "Hm" of something like disbelief, or maybe it was satisfaction – it was hard to tell with this guy – he once again lowered his slanted purple eyes to the page.

A flush passed through Goku and he bit his lip, glancing around for something, somewhere – anywhere. There was really only one place Goku could go now, a place that would at least get him out of his strange cellmate's calculating observation, somewhere he could gather himself a bit. He went to the bunk ladder and hoisted himself up, crawling onto the top bed. The frame was a little rickety and creaked as he shifted. Not wanting to piss off the guy below, Goku settled at the centre of the mattress and let his head drop against the thin pillow, closing his eyes to shut out the plain walls and ceiling above. The sheets smelled like cheap soap powder, a similar brand to what he'd used on the outside when he'd visited the local laundrette. It was an oddly comforting scent in his current sterile, barren environment. Goku pressed his nose to the bed and inhaled deeply, tucking his knees up against his chest and hugging his legs.

His first evening in Chang'an stretched out at a snail's pace, but an undetermined amount of hours later he had begun to learn some of the noises that filtered in, an exercise to keep his mind from wandering to darker places. Finally, as dusk shrouded the prison, Goku heard the swish of the newspaper pages below, then a very final slap as the paper was tossed onto the floor. The lower bunk springs groaned, then fell silent. After that, Goku managed to drag himself into a restless slumber.

Barring the in-my-light comment, the blond guy hadn't said a word to him and, as far as Goku could tell, was refusing to acknowledge any hint of his presence.

* * *

Over the following four days, Goku continued to pick up everything he could, most of his experiences brand new and, in many cases, eye-opening. He made himself adapt as best he could to the rule that you had to shower, piss, and eat fast, as there were designated time slots for each necessity and slow coaches were firmly reprimanded – and in a couple of cases thoroughly humiliated – in front of the other inmates, a fate Goku wanted to avoid at all costs.

He learned who to be wary of, and who to out-right avoid. Some of the prisoners were snappy and hot tempered; Goku had found himself ducking for cover on numerous occasions when fights had broken out, under the watchful gaze of the prison officers.

The officers themselves were a mystery to him. They seemed to revel in the regular pockets of violence, seemed to enjoy standing on the platforms above watching, only stepping in when it looked like someone was close to unconsciousness, or when blood was spilled.

One discovery he was inordinately glad about, though, was finding out his cellmate's name, which turned out to be Sanzo. Not that the man himself had provided an introduction; Goku had instead picked it up from an overheard conversation near their room, a passing reference on the inmates' part, but an arrant gem in Goku's repertoire of Chang'an knowledge.

He had yet to figure out exactly why he was so often drawn to Sanzo, no matter what inane pastime the blond was carrying out – reading at the window, haloed in the early evening sunlight; washing his face at the sink, bent above the bowl in an artful curve; idly shuffling cards as he pondered whatever it was Sanzo deemed important enough to fill his head with. Goku liked Sanzo's face during his more pensive moods, when Goku was sure Sanzo was so caught up in his thoughts that he wasn't aware he was being surreptitiously observed. During those moments, Sanzo's pinched brows were always youthfully smoothed out, those intense eyes lowered in calm reflection, framed by the spread of gold lashes like a twenty-four carat canopy.

Sanzo. The word rolled around his head, playing like an echo during his stretched, quiet moments. One or two times Goku almost got caught testing the word out loud. Sanzo, Sanzo – he liked the sound of it, liked the shape of it on his lips and on his tongue. The man himself was another mystery. He said very little and seemed disinterested in whatever Goku was doing when they were in their cell, although on a few occasions Goku had looked up to find Sanzo regarding him stoically, either from above his paper or through a mist of smoke rising from one of the cigarettes he regularly perched at the corner of his mouth.

It was one of the most unnerving things, but at the same time that cool look worked a sinuous heat through Goku, one he had yet to work out the relevance of.

The fifth evening, as Goku took his dinner tray from the cafeteria and headed towards the rows of benches, he noticed someone waving in his direction. A swift glance over his shoulder reported the hail was directed at him, since there was nobody standing behind him, but he didn't know why anyone would wave in such an informal, almost familiar manner. Goku recognised the man – it was the redhead he'd seen on his way in, the one who had smirked at him.

With trepidation in his steps, Goku went to where the guy was sitting. "Uh, hi," he said, holding his tray close to his chest.

"Hey, man, my friend and me were wondering if you wanted to sit with us." The redhead indicated to another familiar face – the raven-haired man who had offered Goku a warm, if hesitant smile when he'd been led in. "You look kinda like a lost monkey." The redhead threw Goku a charming grin, genuine amusement igniting his eyes.

"Ignore Gojyo," said the dark-haired guy, "he has a soft spot for lost causes."

"Ah, it's true," said Gojyo, shaking his mane of fiery hair in a fierce nod. "That's gotta be why I ended up sharing with you, Hakkai."

"Indeed." Hakkai beamed up at Goku, then nodded to the seats opposite them on the bench. Goku rounded the end of the table and took the seat directly in front of Gojyo, exceedingly warmed by their relaxed banter.

"So, you're Goku, right?" Gojyo picked up his fork and shovelled some rice into his mouth.

"Yeah, Son Goku." Goku wasn't sure if he should add 'pleased to meet you', so he settled for, "I'm on the third level."

"We saw you when you came in." There was a touch of melancholy in Hakkai's green eyes, just a glimmer buried deep under the smile, but his manner was friendly enough. "I have to say, you handled The Walk very well."

"The Walk?" echoed Goku. "Oh, right. The first walk. Yeah, that was pretty bad, everyone lookin' at me." He wrinkled his nose. Although people were still curious and more than a few kept a cautious eye on Goku when he was wandering around, he didn't feel like such a spectacle any more.

"We all had to do it at some time," Gojyo told him. "It's how you handle it that these guys remember. Some of 'em come in here blubbering like babies, some are practically dragged by their hair. Heh, most are still proclaiming their innocence."

At that, Goku lowered his eyes to his tray. The rice and soup no longer looked so palatable, but he stirred his spoon around in the broth, teasing the vegetables to the surface. Innocence – how could anyone claim to know where to draw the line? Goku knew he had killed a man, but he didn't feel like a guilty criminal. He just felt normal – just Goku; he had done what he'd felt was right at the time, trusted his instincts implicitly as always.

But, well, it was redundant now, unnecessary to get worked up over. Here he was at Chang'an, the last stop. Only now, glancing up at the two men sitting across from him, he didn't feel quite so lonely, if only for the remaining fifteen minutes of dinner.

"Where d'you hail from, man?" Gojyo asked him, cutting into his reverie. "You don't look like you're from around here."

"Oh, uh, I dunno," said Goku. He'd never really compared himself to others around him, but he supposed his build and tanned colouring was slightly different from most other people.

"You don't know where you're from?" asked Hakkai, carefully settling his soup spoon down in his bowl as if he were in some top-notch restaurant rather than a dingy prison cafeteria.

"Nah, I was brought here by this woman who said she was gonna help me out. She got me into a flat on the East side, got me a job in a market sellin' fish on a stall." Goku shrugged, remembering the woman clearly. She'd said her name was Kanzeon and she was a social worker. Goku had doubted it, but hadn't bugged her – he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. "I can't remember much of anythin' before that. She called me a stray, said my memory was messed up but it was probably better that way and I shouldn't ask any questions. So I didn't."

"Someone else with a lost cause habit." Gojyo smiled toothily at him. "So tell me, was this broad hot?" He raised a red eyebrow and held his hands up to his chest, making exaggerated movements with them as if jiggling imaginary breasts.

Goku opened his mouth to reply he didn't know – he'd never really thought about whether she was hot or not, when another voice broke in from behind.

"Oy, Hakkai, did you pick up today's paper from the post desk?"

Goku knew that voice – he'd been thinking about it a lot over the past five days. It froze him in his seat, washing down over him in a steady stream of cool shivers.

"Oh, evening, Sanzo," said Hakkai, reaching down between he and Gojyo for something on the floor. "Yes, I snagged a copy as I was passing." When he resurfaced, he was holding a newspaper, which he slid across the table to the space beside Goku. That warm but vaguely melancholy smile was back; Goku watched Hakkai shine it up at Sanzo, but he dared not turn in his seat. A slow prickle made its way down Goku's neck, spreading out over his shoulders and winding the length of his spine.

Sanzo's presence was almost tangible, something Goku's higher senses were inexplicably tuned into. He'd never picked up such an intense aura from anyone before, never known anyone whose proximity was so palpable. What did that mean? The man gave off an energy Goku thought he could cut through with one of the plastic prison knives. Even then, with his back turned, Goku had the distinct impression Sanzo was staring at him.

"Thanks," was muttered, almost as if Sanzo wasn't used to the sound of the word in his mouth.

"You're welcome," said Hakkai, then added, "We were just interrogating your room-mate."

Sanzo didn't comment, although he slid onto the bench beside Goku, arranging himself like he didn't want to accidentally touch any part of Goku if he could help it.

"I take it you've had the chance to get to know each other." Gojyo's tone was all too teasing for Goku to be comfortable and he didn't know whether to nod diplomatically or shake his head with incredulity. In the end, he settled for stuffing a chunk of carrot into his mouth.

"That's none of your damn business, kappa." Although Goku couldn't bring himself to openly stare at him, he had a feeling Sanzo was glowering across the table at Gojyo.

"Ohh, like that, is it? Well, I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to get real cosy. Poor kid." Gojyo seemed to take great pride in winding Sanzo up – nor did he hold back. Goku wondered how long they'd known each other.

"Now, Gojyo, that's inappropriate. Goku's only just got here and he doesn't know us very well yet." The 'yet' was not lost on Goku and he looked up at Hakkai with a mixture of gratitude and relief.

"Meh, I'm just ribbin' pretty boy." Gojyo pushed his tray aside and reached into his trouser pocket, drawing out a crumpled Hi-Lite cigarette packet and a small book of matches. "I do pity you, though, man," he then added to Goku, before the table suddenly jolted and Gojyo let out a curse. "Fuck, what did ya do that for, asshole?" He fired an accusing glare at Sanzo.

"You have to ask?" Sanzo bit out. "Just shut up, or next time I'll aim for your balls."

"Well, isn't this nice," Hakkai muttered. "Goku, you'll get used to it. They're like this all the time."

"Hey, don't talk about me like I'm not here, man," Gojyo said, tearing off a small card match from his matchbook. He lit his cigarette and blew out a lazy curl of smoke from the side of his mouth. "Anyway, the guy needs a few pointers here and there and I'm more than happy to help him out. We're all here for the same reason, yo."

"Too true," Hakkai conceded. "But not necessarily for the same motives, nor with an openness to 'help' from cons like you and I."

"Huh, shit. What's that word – touché? Yeah, that's it. Touché, Hakkai!" Gojyo threw his hands up in mock surrender and winked at Hakkai, to which Goku couldn't hold back a snort of laughter. Although Hakkai merely rolled his eyes, Goku was sure he saw a little colour rise in the skin over his porcelain-pale cheekbones.

Goku let the steady ebb and flow of their chatter wash over him, wallowing in how normal it felt to be talking with other people. At the back of his mind, he remained acutely aware the entire time of Sanzo beside him, whose head was now bent to the cover page of his paper, blond hair spilling over his eyes. He had rested his hands on the table and Goku noted their long, thin fingers, wide palms that looked strong and only a little rough. Between Sanzo's index and middle finger of both hands, Goku could see very faint yellow stains form where he held his cigarettes and switched back and forth between left and right.

His observation was cut short when the buzzer rang, signalling the end of dinner.

"Might see you tomorrow, yeah," Gojyo said to him as he rose from his seat. Then he offered Sanzo a simpering smile. "I miss you already, pretty boy."

"Fuck off," replied Sanzo, refolding his paper and slipping it under his arm as he rose. Goku followed suit, realising they were moving into Reflection Time now and he would be tailing Sanzo back to their cell. Now that he'd kind of been introduced to Sanzo, he wondered if Sanzo would deem him worthy of conversation. Hell, Goku would be happy if Sanzo just asked him the time of day – then he pushed that notion aside, wondering where it'd suddenly sprang from.

"I'll see you," he said, as Hakkai and Gojyo headed off. "Oh, and thanks!" he then called after them, feeling a flush light his cheeks when Sanzo threw a glance at him over his shoulder. Goku caught up to him, falling into Sanzo's brisk stride.

"How long have you known those guys?" he risked asking, as they crossed the Recreation area to the staircase. Standing above them on level two, a couple of guards were idly chatting while they monitored the inmates' retreat to their rooms. When no response from Sanzo was forthcoming, Goku let his shoulders slump, a hole of dismal hopelessness opening in his gut. It looked like tonight was going to be just as silent and cold as the previous few.

Falling back a couple of paces, Goku realised meeting Hakkai and Gojyo – Sanzo's apparent acquaintances – hadn't done anything to bridge the strange gaping emotional distance between him and Sanzo. As they entered cell 39, Goku went to the small, chipped sink and ran himself a plastic cup of water, resigned to spend the evening sitting on his bunk with a book. There was a ledge on the wall he was using as a shelf, an easy reach from where he lay. Balancing his water in the palm of one hand, Goku began to climb the bunk ladder as the cell door thrummed with electricity and swung shut.

The slam no longer bothered him, oddly enough.

"Few years," said Sanzo suddenly, and Goku paused half way up the ladder. Turning mid-climb to face Sanzo, it took Goku a moment to realise he was finally answering his earlier question. Had Sanzo not wanted anyone overhearing? Goku should have considered that. "I knew Hakkai on the outside. Gojyo was a friend of his – not a friend of mine, just so we're clear."

"Crystal," said Goku, and won a soft snort from Sanzo, something that sent a thrill of triumph through him. He clung to it, unable to hold back a smile. "So you all ended up in here, huh?" He realised he was maybe pushing it now, but after that small breakthrough Goku was loath to lapse back into their usual quietness.

"When you mess with the giants funding this establishment, you've got to expect to see these walls." Pondering Sanzo's cryptic statement, Goku watched him wander over to the window, the light fading but still clear enough to silhouette him against the bars. Sanzo leaned his hip against the radiator in front of the window, tilting his head to one side and staring off at nothing. "Plus Chang'an's the only high security in the area."

"Yeah. I'd never heard of it, but then I haven't been here that long. In the city, I mean." Perching at the edge of his bunk with his heels resting on the middle rung of the ladder, Goku idly turned his cup around in his hand. "I guess bein' here's not that different to bein' where I was before. I didn't know anyone on the outside, 'cept the guy who runs the market. I'm – I mean, I used to give him a commission for the plot where I set up my stall." A wry grin tugged at his lips. "An' anyway, the heatin's better in here than it was at my flat. Though I miss seein' the park and the duck pond."

Sanzo was watching him calmly from the window. Tapping out a fresh cigarette, he fished in his trouser pockets for his plastic lighter. "What's so special about the duck pond?"

Goku hitched up one shoulder. "I dunno, I just used to like watching 'em swimming around, like they didn't have a care." He took a sip of his water. "They always looked like they were enjoyin' themselves, you know? An' they had each other." Now he was really spouting nonsense. Goku shut his mouth and willed himself not to say any more stupid things.

"Well, there are plenty of ducks in here," Sanzo said, taking Goku by surprise. "Except these ones will break your neck as soon as look at you." Not sure whether to take that as a warning or simple fact, Goku nodded.

"I liked meeting Hakkai and Gojyo," he admitted. "I think they're good guys. Er, as good as guys in here can be," he then added when he noticed the shadow that ghosted over Sanzo's angular face.

"They're all right," Sanzo said begrudgingly, which Goku took to be a major compliment to Hakkai and Gojyo.

Sanzo pushed himself off the radiator, heading for his bunk. Sliding down onto it, he disappeared from view, a clear indication the conversation was now over. Rather than overstep the fragile line that had been drawn, Goku settled onto his bed with his water and watched the light fade into dark, inordinately pleased that he and Sanzo were on speaking terms – and from the look of it, could hold something like a decent, if short, conversation together.

That night, he slept more soundly than he had since arriving.

* * *

Chang'an's workshop was stationed on ground level, one large room with eight wide benches laid out in neat rows, a supply of various woods and materials stacked behind metal grids at the back, as well as two expansive tool racks on the walls. The workshop was monitored heavily at all times – after all, you didn't stick a bunch of convicted killers in a room full of chisels and metal files and let them go fish – but it was a nice escape from the monotony of the Rec room, with its different sounds, sights, and scents.

Goku had started tentatively working on a chest of drawers and hoped that, providing it held up okay and he got it looking nice, he might be allowed to take it to his and Sanzo's cell so they had somewhere to store their toiletries and spare clothes. The possibility gave him incentive to prepare the wood carefully, to read up in the prison library on craftsmanship and the intricacies of carving and working with wood. This activity was something Goku kept to himself, not even mentioning it to Sanzo during any of their short but fulfilling moments of communication. Some day, hopefully soon, Goku wanted to surprise Sanzo with it.

He had also enrolled himself in weekly classes on environmental studies, figuring he had plenty of time he wanted to fill with more than just solitary reading. One of the guards had said men under pressure like those at Chang'an needed things to take their minds off their sentences, as well as the other conflicts that happened within the bare walls. Goku could definitely see his point, but really he simply enjoyed learning new things and spending time with people.

The first class went well; a group of seven inmates turned up to listen to the officer giving the seminar. Goku considered putting word out, see if he could tempt more to show up for the next one – some of the discussions had been interesting and he could picture someone like Hakkai maybe giving it a go. If Hakkai did that, Gojyo would probably come along, too.

With this thought in mind, he descended from the seventh level where the seminar rooms were situated – Goku could clearly see the difference in space, as well as upkeep compared to the lower levels – thinking it might do to mention it to Sanzo, too, although he had a strong feeling Sanzo wouldn't be interested. Not that Goku wasn't going to try.

The block was quiet at that time of day, most of the other guys still in activities. According to the wall clock, there were still fifteen minutes left before the next segment of Reflection Time. As Goku reached fifth level, rounding the railing on the stairwell, he caught sound of a familiar voice. A smile bloomed across his face and, glancing around to make sure none of the guards were keeping check on him, he slipped off the staircase and onto the walkway.

Cell 58's door was open but a snick, just enough to relate hurried voices from within. An unplanned social call might be rude or intrusive, but Goku hadn't seen Hakkai or Gojyo for a couple of days except in mealtime passing, so he figured it'd be neat to say hi and hang with them for a while. Once again glancing around, Goku raised his fist to knock on their door, but before he could something stilled him.

"Fuck, man, you look so hot like that..."

A groan followed that set Goku's heart thumping in his ribcage. Surely he was mistaken – Hakkai and Gojyo couldn't be in there doing – doing – doing that – surely?

"Easy." That was Hakkai's voice, but more sultry than usual. Holy shit. "Ahh, oh – careful, don't push back so hard or you'll come before I tell you."

A growl. "I'm not a freaking girl, Hakkai – just hurry up and fuck me!" A hitched breath. "Harder, yeah... harder."

Raising his fist to his mouth, Goku bit down on his fingers, his breath suddenly short, his palms sweaty. Before he knew what he was doing, he had nudged the door with his knee. Shit! It was too late to revoke the movement. Holding his breath, Goku waited for Hakkai or Gojyo to become alert to his presence.

The noises from within the room became clearer – the creak of springs, the vivid smack of skin on skin, muscle connecting, more growls and a ragged spattering of colourful curses.

Shit, they were really going for it!

Plus, they had apparently not heard his approach or blunder. Trying not to make a sound, Goku pinched his eyes shut, listening avidly even as he knew he should about-face and hightail it out of there, back to his own level, back to his cell and–

Sanzo.

Fuck, fuck! Not a good idea to think about Sanzo, but it was too late. Goku's mind unhelpfully provided him with a myriad of debauched images; of Sanzo lying on his bunk, of Sanzo rising and striding towards him in his customary clipped manner, of Sanzo against him, breathing hot on his neck, rumbling something unbelievably fucking sexy into his ear.

Goku bit back a moan as Hakkai fucked Gojyo harder – he could hear the bed knocking the wall now, imagine how hot and sweaty it must be in there, just inches from where he was standing.

There had to be something seriously wrong with him, Goku concluded, knowing full well he shouldn't still be listening. The prospect of facing Sanzo after this, however, sent his mind whirling with doubt and frustration. The senses he'd been having when around the blond, the reactions a nod of Sanzo's head, or a flick of his gaze, had on Goku all drifted together to form a dizzying truth:

Goku wanted him.

Goku wanted to look at him all the time. Goku wanted to touch Sanzo, not that he'd ever dare in case he shattered the strange, unspoken companionship they had formed – if it could even be called that. He didn't understand it, the attraction, the gravitational pull of Sanzo, but it was there and it was unavoidable.

"Unn, fuck, I'm comin'..."

Eyes snapping open, Goku backed away, unable to listen to any more. The tightness at his groin was becoming unbearable and he knew he'd have to do something about it before going back to his cell, back to face Sanzo. The last thing Goku wanted to do was walk in with a raging hard-on; the soft cotton of the prison trousers did nothing to hide a man's pride.

Launching himself down the stairs, Goku made it to the third level without running into anyone, before shooting off in the direction of the three-stalled bathroom at the end of the walkway. The room was thankfully empty; Goku quickly headed into the far stall and yanked down his trousers, immediately grabbing his cock in one fist and pumping at the shaft. With a wince, he released himself and spat on his palm, then tried again, rubbing his darkened, straining cock with rough rotations of his fingers. Getting off was something else he'd learned to do quickly and quietly – there was no way of knowing who was going to walk in at any given moment.

Biting his lip hard enough to bring a sharp sting to the surface, Goku tried not to remember the noises he'd heard from Hakkai and Gojyo's cell, but it was impossible; only, as he squeezed and worked at his cock those noises took on a much deeper, more gravelly timbre.

With a desperate "Hnn," Goku found images of blond hair and long, fine fingers rising in his mind's eye. The sensation of smoky breath on his skin was so real he almost believed it in that moment, could almost feel a sure, calculating gaze boring into him like it could penetrate all the way to his soul, twisting him up inside, raging with the burn of tension in his balls and gut.

The satisfaction was instantaneous and violent, cock sputtering pearls of white heat over his fingers and up the stall. Breath choked up in him and he let his head fall forward to lean against the cool wall. Goku stumbled over his barely stifled groans, shuddering through his release with guilt mixed in with his pleasure. With a couple of weak jerks on his spent cock, he released himself and slumped, come striping his hand, running down his palm and the backs of his fingers.

"Shit, this is bad," he muttered, forcing his tingling limbs into action and tugging from the holder a few sheets of loo roll with which to wipe his hands. Goku cleaned up, straightened his shirt and trousers as best he could, then gingerly opened the stall door a fraction, peering through the gap first just to make sure nobody was there. Running cool water from the sink over his flushed face, he gave himself a long stare in the mirror, until he was content he didn't look quite so guilty. Heading out of the bathroom, Goku made his way back to his cell with trepidation in his steps.

As he'd expected and feared, Sanzo was already back from whatever activity he'd picked today. Unable to look directly at Sanzo, Goku went to the sink and ran the tap, reaching for a cup. As much as he tried to discard the sense that Sanzo was watching him, he was certain it wasn't just paranoia at work. Goku knew his instincts were correct, knew the prickling heat on the back of his neck wasn't from the room's temperature.

Throat dry, he gulped down a cupful of water, then filled it again and drank that, too.

"What's got you so rattled?" Sanzo asked. Not only was there mild curiosity in Sanzo's tone, but Goku thought he detected a hint of dry amusement.

"N-nothin'," Goku lied, setting down his cup and wiping his hands in one of the rough towels he'd been allotted. The lingering scent of his release could've been his imagination, but Goku wasn't willing to risk getting too close to Sanzo while smelling of come. Turning, he practically launched himself towards the ladder, avoiding Sanzo's stare as he climbed up. "Just got a bit of a headache, 's all." Shoving his face into his pillow, for the first time since arriving Goku hoped Sanzo wouldn't speak to him.

Luckily his wish was granted, but it was a long time before Goku was able to face his room-mate again. He wondered just how difficult it was going to be facing Hakkai and Gojyo.

* * *

Goku's question was answered a couple of days later, while out in the exercise yard after supper. As he wandered across the court, he spotted Hakkai and Gojyo on the other side, sitting at the weight benches beside the high, razorwire-garnished fence. It wasn't a usual occurrence to meet them during Yard, since exercise was staggered with first, second, and third levels out directly after supper, fourth, fifth, and sixth levels following an hour later. That day, supper had been overdrawn due to a rumble, and as a consequence the rest of the day's schedule had been messed up. Not that Goku minded – he was pleased to see his friends, if embarrassed at his memories of overhearing them.

The moment Gojyo spotted him and hailed him over, Goku was struck by a vivid re-play of what he'd heard, in glorious stereo inside his head.

'Shit, pull yourself together!'

"Er, hi," he offered as he joined them. The afternoon was fading fast, dusk settling in purple hues above. Hakkai shifted over and created a space on the bench beside him, which Goku took, careful not to look either man directly in the eye.

"How's it going, monkey boy?"

Goku had grown weary of trying to tempt Gojyo off the nickname he'd adopted since their first meeting in the cafeteria. It seemed it was there to stay.

"Is everything all right, Goku?" asked Hakkai, staring at him with concern. "You look a little rattled."

"I ain't rattled!" Goku exclaimed, then sobered when Hakkai raised a fine black eyebrow at him. "Sorry. I'm fine, really." Offering them a smile to underscore his point, he hoped they wouldn't press him. "So what'cha up to?"

"Just chillin' in the yard," Gojyo drawled, like a man free in a park. He was smoking again and not for the first time Goku wondered who smoked more out of Gojyo and Sanzo. He'd wager it was about the same – constantly, that was. As if on cue, Gojyo added, "Oh look, here comes the pretty boy. Looks like our little quartet's complete."

Goku didn't need to look up to see Sanzo's approach; the hairs at the back of his neck rose in a familiar way, before Sanzo's muttered, "Hey," reached his ears. Slinging one leg over the bench and straddling it, Sanzo flashed a quick, cool gaze over Goku, before reaching to his breast pocket for his Marlboros. "You got the paper, Hakkai?"

Goku looked away.

"I'm afraid there was no delivery today." Hakkai gave a slow shrug. "I've no idea why."

"What the hell?" groused Sanzo, shaking his lighter irritably, then igniting the end of his cigarette. "That's the fifth day running."

"Perhaps nobody's been to the newsagent to pick up the shipment," Hakkai suggested. Then, more brightly, "I wonder what you'll fill your mind with instead, Sanzo."

"Che, what the hell does that mean?"

"Oh, nothing."

There was no need to look at Sanzo to know the guy was annoyed – Goku could almost feel waves of heavy tension radiating from him.

"So, heading into your fourth week, eh, monkey?" Gojyo asked him, tossing his head back and sucking in a deep lungful of smoke. "How you findin' it?"

Hitching one shoulder, Goku said, "I dunno, it's okay, I guess. Stayin' outta people's way, mostly."

"Very prudent of you, in this prison," Hakkai commented, nudging his glasses up his nose. "We were lucky to have known each other on the outside," he gestured between himself, Gojyo, and Sanzo, "but a lot of new students don't fare too well in their first few weeks. The climate in here can be suppressing, to say the least, especially when there's not an apparent friendly face in sight."

"Students?" Goku asked with a frown.

"Eh, everything's a learning curve for this guy," said Gojyo, slinging a companionable arm around Hakkai's neck.

"The pottery workshops are highly informative," Hakkai said. "If you bother turning up to them."

Throwing a winning smile, Gojyo released Hakkai and shook his head. "At least one of us looks on the bright side, eh?" He turned his lively, crimson gaze on Goku again, his smile broadening. "Y'know, man, I've been watching you since you got into this joint, and there's one thing I can't for the life of me figure out."

"Uh... oh?" Goku blinked, the cryptic observation hanging in the air. Gojyo nodded, taking another draw on his Hi-Lite. In the end Goku grew too impatient, and anyway, the way Sanzo was looking at him made him squirm within his skin. "What is it?" he prompted.

"Why."

"Huh?" Goku frowned at Gojyo.

"Why, man. Why are you here? You just don't seem the type." Switching his half-smoked cigarette from his lower lip to between his fingers, Gojyo flicked soft flecks of ash onto the ground. Goku watched them spiral like dirty snowflakes. "Unless," Gojyo teased, "you were bein' all noble about somethin'. Heh, that's it, isn't it?"

"Gojyo." Hakkai's voice took on a serious, deep quality Goku hadn't heard from him before. "There's prying and then there's crossing the line."

"Aw, c'mon, man, weren't you yourself sayin' there's somethin' about this guy that's not like all the rest?"

'Hakkai said that?' Goku inwardly marvelled. "It's okay," he blurted. The others stared at him. "It's okay – I don't mind you asking."

There was no way of explaining or fathoming it, but somehow Goku knew he could trust these guys, knew deep down on an unconscious level that they'd hear him out, give him a fairer trial than the stuffy judge he'd appealed to in court. Since that day, Goku hadn't spoken of or allowed himself to think too closely about what'd happened back at his apartment building. Only now, with the three of them sitting around him, it was like a dam bulging out, threatening to burst. Goku wanted to talk, wanted it out of his system.

Gojyo sat forward with great interest, nodding with encouragement. Hakkai was polite enough to look uncomfortable, but Goku sent him a quick smile as reassurance that he really didn't mind. Sanzo was looking off across the yard, but Goku knew full well he was listening, intent and alert as ever to his surroundings.

Now that the spotlight was well and truly on him, Goku fumbled for how to begin. "I uh. I killed this man." To his credit, Gojyo held back the 'way to state the obvious, man' comment Goku half expected. "He lived in my building, a couple 'a doors down from me. Didn't really see or speak to him much, 'cept for the odd hi, you know?

"So, everything was just goin' along, until I was comin' back from the market one day and ran into him. He was hammerin' on this door across the hall, yellin' and like – almost snarling. I asked him if he was okay an' he just ... turned on me, like I'd done somethin' to piss him off."

Hakkai cleared his throat and Goku cut off there briefly, glancing up and catching the meaningful look that passed between Hakkai and Gojyo. Swallowing quickly, Goku continued.

"So I went back to my flat, but I kept an ear on the door, 'cause I knew this woman lived alone in that flat across the hall and I'd never even seen 'em together." Goku fiddled with the hem of his shirt, picking at a loose thread. He lowered his tone. "Then a couple 'a days later, there was all this noise in the hall. I went out, thinkin' what the hell, someone was in trouble, an' there was this guy, draggin' the woman over into her flat." Clear images rose of the avid terror painted on her pale, screaming face. She'd caught Goku's eye, for a split second – a second long enough to see the plea for help, the flash of desperation.

"So I kinda charged," Goku went on. "Ran in there an' pulled him off her. She scrambled up and bolted – right out into the hall, leavin' me with this guy. He was yellin' at me, sayin' I was just a piece of shit human lover or somethin' – I didn't really get what he meant, but he was gonna kill her. I swear, that guy was gonna kill someone! He looked crazy, like he could hardly fit into his own skin. Angry, like I've never seen anyone before. He went for me, an' I... an' that's when I..."

Goku trailed off, figuring he didn't need to relay the rest. Not only the images, but the thoughts and feelings were still ripe in his mind and he didn't particularly fancy reliving them over and over again.

Lowering his head, Goku then bit out, "But that guy, I tell you – he wasn't normal. Not like me or you. It was like... like he was–"

"A monster?" Hakkai supplied.

Goku looked up at him. "Yeah. Yeah, like that." An icy surge rolled through him as he took in the others' expressions, all three far from what he imagined when he'd finished his tale. Gojyo's jaw was clenched hard and he had crushed his still smoking cigarette between his fingers, globs of dark ash dropping to hit his shoes as it crumbled. Hakkai was paler than usual, which was saying something – they guy looked like he'd never got any sunlight. Sanzo... Goku blinked and swallowed hard. Sanzo was staring at him out of the corner of slanted eyes, purple irises burning in the fading light, his nostrils slightly flared, mouth pursed and set in a harsh, straight line.

Goku wondered what was going on, what he'd said to thrust them into that stark, tense silence.

"Uh, guys?" he ventured, lifting an eyebrow with worry. "What's up?"

"Goku," Hakkai said slowly. "Did the man you spoke of have any unusual defining features?"

"As in...?"

"As in, particularly sharp teeth? Or long, sharp fingernails?"

Brow furrowed, Goku thought back. "Yeah, actually, now you mention it, he did." Something was trying to add up in his head, but it didn't make sense. Goku had the distinct impression Hakkai and the others knew what he was talking about, knew more of what was going on than he did, and they hadn't even been there. He boggled at them. "Hey, guys? D'ya mind explainin' to me why you're all actin' so weird all of a sudden? How'd you know that man had long fingers and fangs?"

"Shit, sounds like it's getting worse on the outside," Gojyo said, not bothering to temper a wince of distaste.

"As I'd feared, the problems weren't concentrated." Hakkai clasped his hands in his lap, his knuckles bone-white. "It's spreading."

"Uh, hello?" Goku cut in. "Mind tellin' me what's spreadin'? Has this got somethin' to do with me and that man I – I mean, the man I. You know."

"Just tell him already, Hakkai."

So caught up in Hakkai and Gojyo's puzzling commentary, Goku wasn't expecting Sanzo to suddenly speak up. What startled him more, though, was the intensity with which Sanzo looked between him and Hakkai.

"All right." Hakkai let out a sigh. "Goku, you were right to kill that man."

Goku's jaw dropped. He stared at Hakkai in disbelief.

"What I mean to say is, killing isn't right, but that man had already lost his mind at that point and would have gone on to harm a lot – hundreds, maybe even thousands – of innocent people."

"What," Goku said slowly, short of breath, "are you goin' on about? What's happenin' here?"

Slipping off the bench with a way too serious expression for Goku's liking, Gojyo began to pace back and forth as if stretching his legs, although Goku knew it wasn't that – he was agitated about something, like he just couldn't sit still. That agitation was beginning to wind into Goku, too.

"I know you haven't been in this area for very long, Goku, but have you heard of the Houtou corporation?" Hakkai asked him.

The name was familiar and it only took Goku another couple of seconds to realise why. "Sure! I've heard their ads on the radio. They're into make-up and woman stuff, right?"

Hakkai nodded. "That's right. They deal in cosmetics. They have outlets all over the world, but their base is here."

"Bunch of insane fuckin' vultures," Gojyo muttered, spitting on the ground.

"Yes, well," Hakkai went on, undeterred. "At the pinnacle is Lady Koushou. It's widely known her greed and viciousness equal her vanity. The Houtou Corporation was originally supplying to all manner of supermarket, chemist, and boutique, but gradually their trade diminished, though the money was still pouring in and more and more of their outlets were being erected all around the globe. Many lost their jobs, but none could work out why – with all of Houtou's new business – there was such a need for drastic cutbacks.

"There were some who suspected Lady Koushou of dealing with below-board companies. These people mysteriously and very conveniently disappeared, until such fear had been struck that very few were willing to talk about it."

Hakkai paused here and Goku found himself unable to hold back the main question inching across his tongue. "How d'ya know all this stuff, Hakkai?"

Turning a bitter-sweet smile at him, Hakkai said, "Because I worked for them. For a time."

"And thank fuck you got outta there when you did, man," growled Gojyo, who had ceased his pacing and was now standing with his hands stuffed in his pockets, looking a mixture of troubled and utterly pissed off. Inside his pockets, Gojyo's hands were very obviously balled into fists, visibly straining against the thin cotton of his prison trousers.

Something thick and unnameable passed between Hakkai and Gojyo, something deep that Goku was embarrassed to bear witness to, especially after what he'd overheard the other day. He averted his eyes until Hakkai spoke again.

"Moving along. I gave lectures to new employees to the company. That was, until things started to change and the disappearances began. Then there was the odd behaviour of the remaining employees who were coming up from the labs each day – they, too, displayed violence, a kind of feral mindset. No one could reason with them. Around that time, I decided it was probably a good move to hand in my notice. But..." Here, Hakkai paused, slid his glasses off his nose and wiped at the lenses with a white handkerchief he pulled from his pocket.

"But?" Goku prompted, impatience getting the better of him.

"But they didn't want me to leave so easily, not after what I'd seen – what they knew I'd witnessed." Hakkai briefly looked up at Sanzo, then turned a lingering gaze on Gojyo. "That was when I decided it was time to pay an old friend a visit."

"You knew about it, too?" Goku asked Gojyo.

Gojyo shook his head. "Not exactly, but I'd seen shit. Experienced shit." His voice was low, rougher than Goku had heard it. "My stepmother went berserk and tried to kill me."

"Fuck," said Goku, eyes widening.

"Pretty much." Gojyo snorted. "But yeah, she worked for Houtou. Cosmetic sales rep. She'd been there for some trainin' or somethin'."

Stunned, Goku tried taking it all in, staring over at Sanzo, half-expecting him to explain how he fit into all this. Sanzo continued to stare back with an accustomed stoicism, not giving up anything. Goku's stomach felt tight and he had to look away, his throat unnaturally dry after what he'd learned.

"Wow, so this is all tied up – the guy I killed, the company," he finally muttered. Then to Gojyo, "An' your stepmum."

"We believe so, yes," said Hakkai. "Whatever experiments they're conducting down in the Houtou laboratories, it seems to have had a dire effect on those close by, manifesting in a changed physical appearance – much like the man you fought, Goku. Only, now it appears the problems are cropping up all over the city."

Goku now understood what Hakkai had meant when he'd said it was 'spreading'. "Why don't the government do somethin' about it?" he asked, unable to believe things had got so bad without anyone intervening. "They must know by now, surely!"

"The thing is, nobody's willing to listen," Hakkai replied sadly. "That's why you have to be careful who you talk to, Goku. Companies like Houtou hold a lot of power, especially over other businesses and establishments."

"D'ya think the police knew somethin' weird was up when they arrested me, but threw me in here anyway?"

"Hell, of course they did, monkey." Gojyo had finally stopped pacing, but he still looked troubled. "If guys like us start yellin' too loud, their funding gets cut, if you know what I'm sayin'."

Over the yard, the loud speakers buzzed and crackled, before the siren sounded long and loud, signalling the end of exercise. Goku could've screamed at it to shut up. He'd only just found people who were willing to listen to him, willing to talk to him about the strange things he'd seen on the outside. People with information. People who believed him.

"Well, it's all a bit redundant now, don't you think?" Hakkai slowly got to his feet, brushing off his shirt even though it was as pristine as ever. "In here, there's not much we can do."

Goku didn't want to believe it, not now that he had some hope, but he reluctantly supposed Hakkai was right; the heaviness in his gut twisted and curled with disappointment, until Sanzo rose beside him. The disappointment abated a fraction, but Goku still felt helpless, once again reminded where he was and how little he could do from here.

"Time to go in," Sanzo said quietly.

An indefinable shiver wound down Goku's spine, all the way to his tail bone. He nodded.

"Well, be seen' you tomorrow," called Gojyo, turning and once again shoving his hands in his pockets, but in a much more casual manner. Hakkai patted Goku on the back quickly, offering a nod of goodbye. Goku watched them head across the yard together to the doors. Oddly, it felt like he was merely waving off old friends, which was ridiculous, really – he'd only known them a few short weeks.

Sanzo cast the butt of the cigarette he'd been smoking to the ground and trod on it as he made his way across the yard. Not wanting to be left alone outside, Goku headed in behind him, sticking close to Sanzo's side.

* * *

Blaring strains of the siren marked the click of cell 39's locks. Sealed inside, the room seemed strangely smaller than usual; for the first time, the bang as the metal door connected with its border made Goku start. Heading to the radiator next to the window, he tried shaking off his unrest, sliding up onto the warmed frame and sitting with his hands resting in his lap.

It was odd to be perched there staring into the room, a vantage point Sanzo usually took – often silhouetted against the fading light of day as they whiled away their evenings. The Exercise Yard conversation whirled around Goku's mind, but below that something else was tugging at his perception, something much closer – almost physical. An energy. A pulse.

Sanzo went to the bunk but did not sit down on the mattress, instead leaning his forearm against the frame and staring at Goku with his usual sharpness. "What is it?" he asked with no preamble.

"Nothin'," said Goku, then offered the best smile he could muster. Sanzo's stance and expression were unnerving, like he was about to strike out. With his arm hitched up, the navy material of Sanzo's shirt rode north, revealing a tease of pale, lightly scarred skin that Goku had to forcibly tear his attention from. Heat crawled up Goku's neck and face, wound through him thick and snake-like. "I'm just glad I'm not crazy."

Pushing himself away from the bunk, Sanzo stepped closer. He leaned in a little, his voice lowered. "Maybe it's just that we're all crazy."

Goku looked up at him, short of breath, a twist in his gut, his mouth dry. "I think that's okay, too," he managed, voice but a croak. Wondering if Sanzo was going to break his arm for this, but quite unable to stop himself, Goku gave in to the urge to touch him, the urge he'd avoided almost since the first day they'd met. Reaching out, Goku took hold of Sanzo's shirt, making a fist at the front, the small plastic buttons biting bluntly into his palm. "As long as it's you an' me who are. Crazy, I mean." Sanzo was so close Goku could hear him breathe, feel Sanzo’s breath hot against his forehead, rustling his hair.

"What the hell are you doing?" There was a waver below the words that afforded Goku a small measure of comfort – at least he wasn't the only one who didn't understand the pull, the exhilarating surge in the air like static, lifting the hairs on his arms and at the back of his neck.

"I dunno. I usually just run with how I feel." Looking up at Sanzo's angular, unreadable face, Goku asked, "Are you gonna break my neck or somethin'? 'Cause I think you should do it soon if you are."

"You..." It sounded like an accusation, but when Goku started to release Sanzo's shirt, he found his wrist trapped in an iron grip. Drawing in a breath of surprise, Goku tensed his arm, not sure what to expect. He wet his lips, exhaled in a long, desperate stream, wondering if the thunder he could hear was from outside, or in the prison, or inside his own skull.

"I killed someone," he whispered, not sure why he was once again stating the glaringly obvious. "'Cause I knew he was gonna hurt an innocent person."

"I killed many," was Sanzo's eventual, rough reply. "Because they destroyed something important to me."

Goku slid off the radiator, making direct contact with Sanzo's body. He had no idea what Sanzo had done or why, but right then he had no mind to ask; the long, solid rise at the front of Sanzo's trousers ripped a groan from Goku as his own erection brushed up against it. Rising onto the balls of his feet, Goku sighed, right against the corner of Sanzo's mouth.

"I'd do it again," he gasped, dragging his fingertips down the front of Sanzo's shirt, popping a few buttons en route. They scattered on the floor and a couple dashed into the sink, rebounding like little pebbles tossed across a yard.

"So would I," Sanzo growled, and it wasn't so much the words that caught Goku's breath in his throat, but from where they rose – somewhere deep with a resounding, mesmerising darkness, a place thick with emotion, with power. Yet, on the outside, Sanzo was as brilliant and consuming as the sun itself, like nobody Goku had ever met.

Goku wanted him more than anything in the world, the clear force of it shaking him to the bone, throwing him into a kind of vertigo.

"Sanzo," he moaned, clutching the shirt for balance. His utterance was rewarded with the firm press of Sanzo’s sharp hips, a deep, hard thrust that forced him up against the radiator. Dropping his fingers lower, Goku tested the hem of Sanzo's shirt, lifting it a little way to touch the front of his trousers, the button beneath giving all too easily. Every movement was a thrill of the unknown; not simply uncharted territory on Sanzo's body, but a dance with that intense personality that could break and strike Goku like a cobra at any moment.

He was so fucking hard he thought he was going to pass out.

The cock beneath his palm jerked within the fabric, pushing against the navy cotton of Sanzo's trousers. Goku knew they wouldn't stop, not now. As if to underscore that thought, Sanzo hooked his fingers beneath Goku's shirt and drew them up the plane of his stomach, the notches of his ribs, to his chest. Encouraged by Sanzo's touch, Goku daringly increased the pressure against Sanzo's groin, purposefully sliding his palm up the underside of Sanzo's erection, the rigid, thick length hotter and more exciting than anything Goku had ever felt.

He heard a muttered, "Fuck," sexier than hell, before Sanzo sent his mind reeling with a sudden, hard twist of Goku's left nipple. The rise of flesh twinged, throbbing, and Goku couldn't help but buck beneath Sanzo's fierce direction.

He wanted to answer it, to indicate this was the best – the most awesome – so he boldly squeezed Sanzo's cock through his trousers, wondering how the flesh would feel in his hands, in his mouth, almost coming at the very idea of sucking Sanzo like the women sucked the men in the porn Goku sometimes watched – used to watch, late at night all alone in his flat, on the outside.

The outside that was now like a dream; in here, with Sanzo, nothing could've felt more real.

Sanzo raked blunt, uneven fingernails down Goku's torso, directionless in his travels. His eyes had taken on a smouldering quality, the purple now so dark it was almost midnight. Within those eyes Goku saw a mixture of arousal and something like disbelief, as if Sanzo couldn't comprehend this was happening any more than Goku could. As if he also couldn't stop now they had started.

Tilting his face up, Goku ran his mouth along the artful cut of Sanzo's jaw, his chin, then up to his lower lip which he drew between his teeth and pressed down on, making indents with his canines. A noise clambered up from Sanzo's chest and he rotated his hips, the radiator whining under their combined weight, threatening to tear away from the wall.

Goku didn't care. If all the guards in Chang'an filed in there right then to separate them, he wouldn't let Sanzo go. He might just kill them all, if they tried that. A bubble of hysterical laughter burst from his mouth at the thought, and he licked Sanzo's lips, sucked on them.

"What's so funny?" Sanzo asked him, pinching Goku's hip beneath his shirt, which could've been a warning or an encouragement. Goku decided the latter.

"Nothin'," Goku said, not wanting to ruin the moment. Arching against Sanzo, Goku tore open his own shirt, slipping it off and tossing it aside, where one of the sleeves caught on the radiator edge and hung there. Attacking Sanzo's chest with his teeth, he carefully scraped down over the ridges and dips of Sanzo's torso, tracing the lines, learning them, committing them to memory. This was the most physical contact Goku had had with anyone and he didn't want to miss an inch, so long as Sanzo was allowing him. He gave up biting and simply pressed himself to Sanzo's bared skin, absorbing the heat of him, thriving on the pulse of his energy. "Want you."

There were fingers at his fly, releasing the buttons, one after the other. Those fingers tugged down his underwear with no hesitation. A rush of air hit his hard, aching cock and Goku gasped an appreciative breath, leaning up to kiss Sanzo's throat, lick the firm rise of his Adam's apple. He was becoming increasingly aware of just how much he craved this, that if he was never allowed to touch Sanzo again after this he might end up starving. That thought should've concerned him, but when Sanzo wrapped his fist around Goku's flushed shaft, tugging with those long, cigarette-stained fingers, there was nothing in Goku's head but yes, please, fuck more - more!

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," he choked, his limbs seizing up, muscles straining to hold on, to wait, in case he'd judged this wrong somehow and Sanzo didn't want – wasn't ready for – ah!

Before Goku's world went blissfully white, he saw Sanzo watching him with a wild avidity, the image imprinting on his mind even as he careened, helplessly, into his orgasm, cock pumping stripes of wet heat over Sanzo's fingers and up his pale wrist. With every burst, tension drained from Goku, melted with the heat and smell of his own release, slid away on the waves of euphoria that pushed through him.

Goku panted out a curse that sounded cloudy and distant in his ears. When he opened his eyes again, taking a look up into Sanzo's face, he felt his mouth tug up into a dopey smile, but he didn't care if he looked like a soppy idiot right then.

"Wow."

Sanzo didn't appear angry, for which Goku was grateful. Rather, the blond was now regarding his face with a mix of alertness tinged with excitement. Releasing Goku's spent cock, Sanzo curiously rubbed Goku's come between his fingers, pearls of white sliding slowly down his forearm to join with that slicking his palm.

Goku knew instinctively to struggle his trousers and undershorts all the way off, kicking them across the cell floor and away. With regained control and a little more concentration than a minute ago, he went for Sanzo's zip, crazy to get the material off him. Goku wasn't entirely sure how it'd work, or how much it'd hurt, but that didn't hinder him a whit as he worked Sanzo's erection free and gave him a look that was all determined want. Sanzo's trousers slid down over his hips and thighs with a soft swish, ending in a puddle of cotton at his feet which he stepped out of, moving closer.

"Are you gonna...?" Goku asked, and when Sanzo didn't answer he added, "I want you to." Palming Sanzo's cock again, this time able to feel just how smooth and hot Sanzo's length truly was, Goku hitched himself up on to the edge of the radiator, raising his legs to around Sanzo's thighs. Open for him. Clear about what he wanted. Goku urged Sanzo against him with a squeeze of his legs, a thrill racing through his veins when Sanzo's hard dick nudged against his sensitized balls. Strains of his release still swept down him and moved out in waves, lapping at Goku's insides as well as bringing bumps to the surface of his skin.

If Sanzo kept looking at him like that, like he was seriously fucking hungry, Goku thought he might crumble to dust. If only he could've spread himself wider, he would've.

"This'll hurt," Sanzo warned, taking his own cock in his hand and smoothing Goku's come down the length, then back up to the head, getting himself nice and wet.

"I don't care. It won't be the bad kind of pain."

"Hn." Sanzo raised an eyebrow. "You're pretty self-assured, for someone who doesn't know what to expect."

"Can you read my mind or somethin'?" Goku let his smile linger, not offended by Sanzo's words – they were true, after all.

"I don't need to," Sanzo said, shifting his hips and angling his cockhead below Goku's balls. "I can read your face and movements clear enough."

A flush swelled through Goku and for the first time he felt every millimetre of his nudity. "Can you read that I'm not scared?" Lifting his legs higher until they were curved firmly around Sanzo's hips, Goku tugged at him, the familiar weight of arousal beginning to re-emerge as Sanzo pressed, slowly, at his hole.

"You have no idea what I could do to you." Though just a hush, Goku fancied he could hear the beat of Sanzo's heart in his words.

"No, I do. I really do." Leaning back against the barred window, Goku took in the tableau of Sanzo readying to fuck him, of his legs locked around Sanzo's waist, of Sanzo's body glistening with sweat, of Sanzo's radiant skin stretched taut and gorgeous over his bones, how the muscles worked beneath to maintain the control Goku could almost hear splitting. "Do it. Sanzo, do it. Please."

The sound of his begging was swallowed by the first harsh surge of pleasure-pain, a searing, gripping heat and sting. Goku warred with crying out and heaving in a ragged breath – everything seemed to stop at that moment, his body helplessly arched toward Sanzo like a puppet.

Sanzo paused for all of two seconds before inching in further, but those two seconds lasted forever to Goku. Although he writhed, his jaw clenched tight, his arms straining to hold on to the metal radiator rungs beneath him, he wanted more, wanted Sanzo to push his limits. Now that his body was opening, stretching around Sanzo's solid cock, now that the sting was turning to a consuming burn, he found he could breathe again.

"Fuck – fuck, ohh..." Goku panted out, raising his hips a little higher, his inner walls clenching to hold on to the feel of Sanzo, to draw him in deeper.

Goku found himself almost blind with sensation as Sanzo began to move inside him, his nerves sending him a multitude of signals, all merging into one dizzying want. The pain was exquisite, a pain Goku embraced – it made him feel alive, more free than he had been on the outside. The sound of Sanzo's groans and curses played at a metronome tempo in time with his thrusts, each of which seemed to go deeper, strike something live and powerful inside Goku.

He rocked back into the rhythm of Sanzo's body and gripped his shoulders with a vice-like need, the only thing keeping him grounded. At one point, Goku felt Sanzo's arm around him, anchoring him for a harder slide. When he flicked his tongue out to wet his lips, Goku also tasted the fresh salty-heat of Sanzo's skin, and he realised he'd let his head fall forward, pressed his face to Sanzo's chest.

Breaking his steady rhythm, Sanzo seemed to give up control, fucking Goku harder, so hard Goku thought he was being turned inside-out. He loved every second, every touch, taste, smell of their sex. Seeking a dusky nipple with his mouth, Goku worried the tough flesh with his teeth, biting down a little and thrilling when Sanzo pounded into him with a barked curse. With a hum of encouragement, Goku released the nipple, a moment before Sanzo squeezed him tight and swore, hotly, into Goku's hair, hips stilling, cock twitching wildly up inside him.

With amazement, Goku tried to capture and keep the feeling of Sanzo coming in him, but there was so much to take in he didn't know what to focus on most – the throb that seemed in time to his own heart, the way Sanzo held him, or the obscenely erotic noises Sanzo made as he let go.

With one final, growling curse, Sanzo loosened his grip, the rigidity flowing out of his body with a tidal force. Goku kept hold of him, his arms now wound around Sanzo's middle, head resting on Sanzo's collar.

"That was fucking amazing!" Goku laughed, lifting his head to stare blearily up at Sanzo. The blond's hair was damp with sweat, a few strands stuck to his left cheekbone, his mouth dark, like he'd bitten his lips. It was with a burst of shock Goku realised the twin red pin-head marks, one curved in a semicircle on Sanzo's throat and another set lower down around his chest, were his doing. It was too late to wonder whether Sanzo minded; Goku knew Sanzo wouldn't have let him bite had he not wanted it, but still – Goku stared at his teeth prints half sheepishly and half pleased with his handiwork.

In answer to Goku's proclamation, Sanzo's mouth twitched a little and he withdrew, stepping back slowly until his cock slipped free of Goku's body. With not much strength left, nerves still singing blissfully and arse aching like a bitch but not unpleasantly, Goku slumped against the radiator. This high would last a long, long time.

The tap squeaked as Sanzo turned it, filling himself a cup of water. Throwing the water back, Sanzo then tossed the cup into the sink along with the scattering of buttons that'd fallen there when Goku had torn his clothes off. Silently, Sanzo went to their bunk and, with a soft hiss of something other than pain, he lowered himself onto his bed.

Uncertainty wound through Goku, but he realised either way he couldn't sleep on top of the radiator all night with his back against the cool barred window. Pushing himself off, he winced as severely tested muscles in his lower back and arse flexed and pulled. As he crossed the cell, he tried to conceal the slight limp, though he was sure those now-cool purple eyes were processing it.

"Can I...?" Goku indicated to the space next to Sanzo.

Instead of bidding him to get on the bed, Sanzo shifted over a little further – a good enough affirmative. Settling himself, Goku tried arranging himself into a comfortable position. In the end, he settled for lying on his side facing Sanzo, bending one knee and propping it against the mattress.

"I feel like I've just gone a few rounds with a really big wrestler," he murmured, resting his head against Sanzo's pillow, inhaling of the scent of the man, smoky and masculine, trapped within the foam cushion.

That won him a soft snort. "Do you always give a running commentary on how you're feeling?"

"Uh... yeah, kind of." Goku grinned. "But I'll try not to."

It was too early for sleep and Goku, though aching, was still jazzed. Tendrils of his earlier euphoria continued to weave through his system. Perhaps that was what gave him the courage to broach the subject he'd wanted to discuss with Sanzo pretty much since they'd first met.

"Uh, Sanzo? Feel free to tell me to piss off, but... I gotta ask you. Um..."

"You've got to ask why?"

"Yeah," Goku replied slowly. "I'd like to know why."

A deep inhale from Sanzo. At first he didn't answer, until Goku started to wonder if the long silence was Sanzo's way of telling him to piss off, although he had a feeling Sanzo was the type of guy who'd be more blatant about something like that. Suddenly, Sanzo began speaking, in a much softer, meditative tone than normal.

"I told you something important to me was destroyed. It happened when I was thirteen."

Goku pursed his mouth lest he make any interruptions that would shatter Sanzo's moment of pensive openness.

"My father was murdered in front of me – while trying to protect me, actually." Sanzo brushed a few damp blond strands of hair from his forehead. "Something he possessed, a family heirloom, was stolen from his dying body. At the time I was too young and afraid to take it back or avenge him, so I ran away."

Goku could only imagine how it must have been for Sanzo at that age, facing that kind of loneliness and loss.

"I spent years looking for the men who killed him. I finally traced them to a source." Sanzo let out an ironic huff. "Can you guess where it was?"

Goku knew. "Houtou Corporation." As the bitter picture unfolded in his mind, he hitched himself up on his elbow, staring down at Sanzo's troubled face. "That's how you met Hakkai an' Gojyo, huh?"

"That's right," said Sanzo. "By that time, Hakkai already knew something was up with that company. He and Gojyo were trying to figure out what to do. It turned out we were all there for different reasons, but all with the same goal..."

"You tried to bring it down?"

Sanzo's silence spoke volumes.

"Shit. Wow. I... I think I get it now." Goku chanced reaching over and running his forefinger over the curve of Sanzo's shoulder, idly tracing it. "Hakkai an' Gojyo said the police were in on it, too."

"Houtou have their means to keep troublemakers quiet." Sanzo shifted on the mattress, but did not shake off Goku's touch. "But that wasn't before we eliminated a lot of the berserkers. We were pretty close to the underground labs when the cops arrived and hauled us here. Fuckers. A little more time and we could've..." A sharp sigh. "There's no point getting hung up over what could've been."

"Yeah, I guess." On impulse, Goku dipped his head and placed a kiss on Sanzo's shoulder, where he'd been stroking earlier. Sanzo didn't react badly, remaining still and thoughtful. "Maybe it's safer in here after all, even though we're all murderers. We aren't even the bad guys."

"That's insightful of you."

Goku blushed at the compliment and dropped another daring kiss, a little higher up, at the juncture where Sanzo's shoulder met his neck. "Y'know, at first when I got here I thought you hated me."

"Well, I didn't have any reason to like you," Sanzo mumbled, idly swatting at him when he attempted another kiss. "But I suppose you could've been worse."

"Uh, thanks. I think." Goku let out a laugh, punctuating it with a swift bite to Sanzo's neck.

"Fuck, I'm not a fucking dog bone." There was amusement buried beneath the words; before Goku knew it, Sanzo had turned to face him, catching hold of his shoulder and holding him back so he couldn't attack any more. "The hell is with you and putting things in your mouth?"

"I just like tastin' stuff," Goku explained, not really sure 'why' himself. Then, to demonstrate, he pressed his hands to Sanzo's chest, then drew one back to lick up his palm.

"You're so very weird," was Sanzo's cool observation, but Goku could feel the excitement rising once again in the small space they shared. He was sure if their auras had colours those colours would be mingling to form something new.

"Sanzo? I never thought anything could feel so good as... you know."

Sanzo's lips tilted upward. "And you had to come to the slammer to experience it."

"Heh, yeah, but who knows," said Goku, "if I'd met ya out there, things might not be so different."

"Don't tell me you believe in that fate crap."

"You don't, huh?"

"I believe in living each day as it comes. Taking what you can."

"I like that too," Goku said, then added, with Sanzo's words in mind, "Would ya let me taste you some more?" He figured they'd already fucked, so what could it hurt? Now Sanzo had opened up to him, Goku believed the bridge had been fully built, and although there was still much he wanted to know about Sanzo, still many things to explore, Goku could see all the possibilities on the horizon, even within the thick, unchanging walls of Chang'an. "C'mon, Sanzo. After that, I wanna make you feel good."

"I already feel good, idiot." That didn't stop Sanzo from releasing Goku, or from settling back down against the bed, spreading himself out like a delicious freaking banquet. It was obvious from what Goku knew of him that Sanzo didn't take to intimacy easily. The gesture of permission was not lost on him and he was damned if he wasn't going to take advantage of it, in case Sanzo changed his mind.

Seizing his opportunity, Goku smoothed his hand over Sanzo's chest, leaning half across him. Licking an exploratory trail along Sanzo's collarbone, Goku sighed into the dip. Prickles of a new erection stirred low in his groin, his balls replete and taut. The feeling was usually accompanied by a quick teasing of his own fist, stroking himself to hardness and beyond, but now Goku pushed his hips in a steady, endless roll against Sanzo's side, just small rotations at first, easing pleasant tension to the fore.

Another body, another person in his life. Someone who knew what it was really like on the outside, someone who spoke to him as an equal, someone who was truly strong and good, beneath his icy exterior – some of which, Goku noted, Sanzo had lowered that evening. For him.

Humming contentedly against Sanzo's chest, Goku started to move lower, depositing open-mouthed kisses down the centre, meeting ribs and pausing to suck on the rises, before setting off again. Sanzo, for his part, was silent but for a steady increase in his breathing, then an odd little hitch when Goku reached his navel. Elated, Goku curled his tongue around the edge of the cavity, before dipping inside to slowly thrust in and out.

"Fucking tease," Sanzo rumbled, to which Goku smiled. Without breaking away from Sanzo's stomach, Goku sought Sanzo's cock with his hand, pleased to find the flesh was already gradually filling, getting exponentially bigger at his touch. Goku was hungry again, but at the same time it was a different type of want building in him – a slower pull, a drag of arousal; he moaned softly as he touched Sanzo's cock, tempting it harder, like his own.

Although sore, he craved to recapture the burning high from their encounter, wanted to feel Sanzo moving within him for hours – days – later. Goku had never been very good at moderation and now he had Sanzo's permission, he wanted to take a bigger step, especially since Sanzo was in such an amenable state.

The man was amazing. Goku couldn't get enough of him.

Pumping his fist along Sanzo's shaft, Goku scraped his teeth in a high arch, from Sanzo's navel and up, then over and down to his hipbone, where he nuzzled the protuberance, before sucking it. The cock in his hand was nice and hard again, thick and unbelievably hot, moist at the tip. Even though he was still tender from earlier, Goku wanted Sanzo inside him once more, wanted to feel Sanzo pushing up into him – over and over until he could take no more – and if Sanzo was ready for that, which he certainly felt, Goku was eager to get on with it. Pushing himself up, Goku slung one leg over Sanzo's thighs and straddled him, their bare skin connecting in all the right places.

He had never thought he'd want another man, much less want to do these things with one, but as Sanzo's presence bathed him within that small bunk, in that pissy little cell, in the midst of a huge, dangerous prison, Goku wouldn't have stopped or changed his mind for the world.

"What're you–?" Sanzo suddenly got his intention; his eyes widened and he reached out, grasping Goku's hips in his hands.

"Wanna feel... free again." If he'd had mind, he might've blushed, but Goku was rising up onto his knees, Sanzo still holding his hips firmly – not to stop him, but to balance him, Goku knew – positioning himself at the wet head of Sanzo's cock.

"Goku, that'll kill – do you have any idea how much that'll hurt after–"

"You said my name."

Sanzo paused, lifting an eyebrow at him. "So?"

Beaming helplessly, Goku put his hand between their bodies and steadied Sanzo's erection as he nudged downward. "Sounds good comin' from you, ohh..."

"Wait – uh – fuck, Goku. Wait–" Sanzo choked off there, his back arching as Goku bore down harder. There was a blazing stretch, then a sudden give as Goku sank down over the head of Sanzo's cock. After that, it was easy to simply let himself drop the rest of the way, sliding down Sanzo's gorgeous length all the way to the root of him, where Goku froze to catch his breath and work through the burn, the roiling flare of pleasure.

Swaying on Sanzo's lap, Goku stared down at him, watching Sanzo with his head thrown back against the pillow, his proud chin raised, his eyes loosely shut, just a slit of dark purple showing beneath his gold lashes. The springs bearing the weight of the mattress above made great leverage. Goku raised his hands and twisted his fingers in the metal frame, hanging on as he started to rotate his hips on Sanzo's lap. With every forward thrust, he dotted beads of precome over Sanzo's milky-white skin, a glittering trail of his arousal, his cock transcribing his pleasure every time it nudged against Sanzo's abdomen.

Goku arched his spine, let his head fall back, and rode Sanzo at an increasing pace, until he felt Sanzo pushing up, pushing up into him on every downward sink. The motion quickened, Goku taking in every inch, but still wanting more – wanting Sanzo to go so deep inside him he'd never stop feeling it.

"Fuck, fuck – Sanzo – ungh! – you feel so good. Oh – I – don't – stop–!"

If sex was always this excruciatingly good, so unbelievably wrenching, so incredibly freeing, Goku wanted to do it all the time. Somewhere under the wild beat in his ears, he was aware of Sanzo shushing him. Aware of Sanzo's hands on him, harsh and rough and strong, gripping his leaking cock, trying to draw the soul out of him, or so it felt to Goku.

At that moment, Goku would've willingly given it away.

He collapsed over Sanzo as he came, crushing his cock and Sanzo's hand between their bodies, slicking them with his release in hot spurts. Goku could barely see straight, his arms shaking from where he had hung to the mattress frame above. He gasped and heaved, drowning in release, revelling in the hardness still deep in his body, the twitch of it that indicated to him that Sanzo was coming, too, that Sanzo was pumping deep up in him a second time.

Fuck, that thought threatened to blow Goku's mind! Even as he knew he'd pay dearly for it in the morning, he didn't care about his own comfort, as long as he could immerse himself in the smoothly flowing bliss forever, for just a bit longer...

"Fuck, are you mad?" The words were more like gasps, close to Goku's ear. Not angry. Incredulous, maybe, with a hint of amused satisfaction.

"Yeah," Goku groaned, finally able to think again.

"Che, you're not supposed to admit it."

Goku tried to laugh but it just came out sounding like a groggy croak. "Oops."

Landing a swift slap on Goku's rump, Sanzo stirred beneath him. Goku took it to mean Sanzo was cramping up under his weight and wanted him off, and set about dragging his sluggish, almost numb limbs up, over, and back onto the mattress. It was difficult mustering the energy to do anything, but he curled over onto his side and set about moulding himself into the space beside Sanzo, not to smother him, but not to be completely severed of contact, either.

"Holy shit," Goku mumbled. "I'm knackered."

"It's your own fault."

"Mmm." Inhaling deeply the redolent musk of their sex, Goku let his eyelids drift shut. "Tomorrow, will things be weird?"

He felt rather than saw Sanzo's quick shrug. "If you make them weird they will be."

"Huh. Okay, then. They won't be weird." Smiling, Goku floated on a sea of pleasant nothingness, his body nearly insensate, his mind unusually clear. All he was aware of was Sanzo, a presence beside him, a heat that curled around him like a cocoon even as Sanzo lay still. "Think I might..."

"Go to freaking sleep," Sanzo murmured.

It was the last sound Goku heard before he surrendered, before a mellow darkness swept over and consumed him whole.

* * *

That shrill screaming noise had to be a nightmare. Nothing in the universe could make such an ear-stabbing, vicious sound as that – surely.

Oh, but wait – that thumping, that was pretty fucking bad, too. Like a herd of crazy elephants, or some guys banging on a drum; a drum inside his head, or–

"Oy, Goku." Someone flicked Goku's face and he flinched. "Wake the hell up."

"Huh?" It took a while for Goku to come around, confused, a little dizzy, and hurting bad like he'd been in a fight. It took even longer for him to place himself at Chang'an, lying on the bed next to Sanzo, light from out in the corridor straining through the grille in the door to illuminate Sanzo's features. "Oh. What's goin' on?"

Sanzo was propped up on one elbow, staring down at him with nothing short of deadly seriousness shadowing his pretty face. "Trouble," was all he said, before pushing Goku roughly out of bed.

"Ow! Hey, you didn't have to shove – I would've got out myself!"

"Shh," hissed Sanzo, following him off the lower bunk. Naked and shivering, Goku searched the darkened room for his trousers. They were still hanging off the radiator where he'd – holy fuck! Before they'd ... done it. He looked at the creased material in his hands with a small tug at the side of his mouth, as if the trousers could reassure him that yes, that sex – all that incredible sex – had happened. The throbbing ache in his arse certainly seconded the motion.

"What's goin' on?" he asked again, unable to locate his undershorts, so instead stepping straight into his trousers and pulling them up. Sanzo, too, was re-dressing, his figure visible as a black silhouette shifting fluidly against the grey of night.

"I don't know for sure, but get ready to fight. Sounds like a riot."

Something cold moved in Goku's chest. "Shit, really?"

"Wait." Silhouette-Sanzo held up a hand for silence and cocked his head to one side, listening carefully. Pipes clunked in the walls, rattling their stunted symphony within the concrete. There was a loud commotion coming from downstairs and, Goku thought, from outside the prison, too. The windows were frosted so he couldn't see out, but even if he could he knew he wouldn't be able to make out much in the darkness.

It was then that Goku started picking up a strange, nasty scent, beneath the lingering, pleasant smell in their room. It was coming from under the door, drifting in thick, irony waves.

"Blood," he muttered, then louder, "Sanzo, I can smell blood."

Sanzo started backing up until he was standing beside Goku, hunkered slightly in a defensive stance. The metal stairs clanged outside, footsteps ascending. Muted shouts rose up, deep and ragged and desperate, accompanied by growls and a few curses. So many voices all rolled into one huge thunderstorm of noise.

Goku's heart almost stopped when a familiar buzz sounded below the din, the electric pop of the locks in their door. "What, they're lettin' us out?" He made to step forward to inspect whether the door really was open, but Sanzo caught his arm in a firm hold and yanked him back.

"Stop. No, this is wrong."

Swallowing, Goku kept his eyes on the door. "Wrong how?"

"Because," said Sanzo, fist clenching around Goku's arm, "the riot alarms aren't ringing. They should be by now. There's always one officer locked in the night booth, in case something kicks off or someone manages to get out of their cell. That way, there's always someone to ring the alarm and call for back up."

The voices were closer now, but speaking too hurriedly to decipher their meaning. People sounded frantic, angry, afraid. Footsteps hammered on the walkways outside the cells – Goku heard two people dash past 39 – those feet weren't running, they were sprinting, like the flames of hell were licking their heels. Goku was glad Sanzo was beside him, glad Sanzo had a better idea of what was going on, even if he had no real answers.

"What d'ya think this is about?"

Before Sanzo could speak, there was a loud pummelling on their door, the metal resounding like a series of thunderclaps. Goku's heart leaped into his throat and even Sanzo flinched beside him, his shoulder knocking against Goku's.

"Room service!" called a voice from the other side.

Wait. That was familiar. "Gojyo?" Goku muttered, frowning and more confused than ever. Before Goku knew it, Sanzo was striding towards the door.

"The fuck, kappa," Sanzo barked, "is that you?"

"Yeah, asshole, this is your 3AM wake-up call."

With a screech, Sanzo tore open the door.

Standing with his hands braced against the frame, Gojyo grinned brightly at them, the flickering strip lights outside the cell setting his hair aflame. "Evening, boys," he chimed, tilting his head and staring from Sanzo to Goku then back again. "Hell, looks like you've already had as much room servicing as you can take."

Goku's face heated and he looked away self-consciously.

"Shut the fuck up, moron, and tell me what the hell this is." Well, good thing Sanzo was capable of maintaining his accustomed snipiness.

"I believe," said another familiar voice; Hakkai's face appeared behind Gojyo's shoulder, peering into their cell, "the proverbial shit has hit the fan."

Sanzo simply stared at Hakkai, his face bone-white with realisation about something Goku still hadn't twigged. "This is it?" he demanded.

"Yes." Hakkai sounded all too calm for what he was saying. "Berserkers have breeched the walls. They're inside."

Berserkers. Goku had only earlier that night heard the word from Sanzo, in reference to the feral people he, Hakkai, and Gojyo had encountered in the Houtou company building. People like Chin Iisou – manufactured crazies. Coldness gripped him at the thought of violent monsters getting into the prison, that the shouts and yells from downstairs were in fact of terror, not a riot.

"But you know what that means, man," Gojyo said, oddly elated considering. "Our ticket out."

For the second time, Goku froze with revelation. Of course! If people had got into Chang'an, then that meant there was now a way out. Escaping didn't sit well with him at all, though he knew if the berserkers were inside, it was only a matter of time before he was forced to confront one of them – one, or more.

"Hey, monkey." Gojyo was smiling. "There's this great little Chinese eatery on fifth street, tucked back behind a pool hall. Wanna go eat, shoot some balls?"

Before Goku could speak his stomach rumbled loudly. Gojyo snickered. As great as that sounded, Goku doubted it would be that easy. Looking to Sanzo, he asked, "Sanzo? Are you going back to Houtou?"

Sanzo didn't turn. "Yeah."

The reply was no big surprise. "Hakkai?" Goku asked next.

"Yes, I'll be going too."

Gojyo huffed. "Shit, man, now you're both makin' me look bad for wanting food and pool first." He let out a suffered sigh. "If we die before I get to that Chinese place, I'll kick both your sorry asses outta hell."

"I'm comin' with you," Goku announced, edging up to Sanzo. In profile, Sanzo looked resolute, but there was also a serenity to his features, strange considering all insanity was breaking loose around them. For a moment, cell 39 felt like the calmest, safest place in all of Chang'an – it was hard not to get pulled into Sanzo's stoic assurance. Thinking back to what Sanzo had told him of his past, however, Goku knew there was much more going on behind the cool façade.

"One true fuckin' four," Gojyo drawled, with a hint of impatience. "So we gonna stand around mooning like women all night, or are we gonna go kick some fuckin' Big Company ass? C'mon, before Hakkai gets twitchy to make tea or somethin'." Backing out of the cell, Gojyo threw a quick look up and down the walkway, then shuffled towards the stairs.

"I'll make some tea if we win," Hakkai said amiably, following him.

Casting one more glance at Sanzo, Goku trailed them, soon hearing the pound of Sanzo's steps behind him as he caught them up. Men Goku only vaguely recognised were pushing up and down the stairs, elbowing them out of the way, their eyes wild and on guard, some of them with bloodied hands. They weren't berserk, as far as Goku could tell in his limited experience. No, they were just surviving. Murderers surviving in a prison of chaos. Murderers – some of them just like him.

The prison was in a shambles, yells and bangs raining upon them from the levels above, the sound of smashing glass and dull thumps like people hitting the floor rising from below. As they rounded the stairwell to the first level, Goku could see bodies sprawled across the recreation area, one man strewn over the dinner benches like a rag doll carelessly discarded. His head was twisted at a grotesque, impossible angle, his eyes shining glassy and vacant. A trickle of blood had painted a neat line from his mouth and pooled on the table below his pallid chin.

Holy shit.

Leaping the last few steps to the ground floor, the four scattered, weaving between the rows of tables in a mad dash for the thick iron-barred doors that were usually locked tight. Now they were hanging off their hinges, some of the rungs bent. As they approached the night office, Sanzo slowed; subconsciously aware of his every movement, Goku also drew to a halt beside the doorway.

"Wait up you guys!" he called to Hakkai and Gojyo, then asked Sanzo, "What're you doin'?"

Ignoring him, Sanzo headed into the small office cubicle, stepping over broken glass and shards of splintered wood where the desk had been shattered. An officer's body was heaped face-down on the floor, four deep welts digging jagged lines between his shoulder blades. They had oozed blood like a leaky tap, creating crimson puddles on the floor around him. Between the severed tissue, the white notches of his spine poked out, paving back into blood and mess further down.

Goku felt sick, wished he could look away, but for a couple of seconds morbid fascination kept his gaze rooted.

Without preamble, Sanzo patted the guy down, then came back up holding a small, compact gun. Behind him, CCTV screens flickered, their pictures rolling manically like the effect of atmospherics. In one of them, Goku could make out figures in another wing, struggling on the ground. Someone was being attacked. The TVs weren't colour, and the victim's blood was black as it began seeping around him in a puddle. The scene unfolded like some old, unbelievable B-movie horror flick.

"Let's go." Sanzo strode past him and out the door, gun held protectively in front of him and Goku as they made their way out into the corridor Goku had seen once before – when he was brought in.

At the end, in the shadows, he could see the flash of Gojyo's red hair; he heard Hakkai's voice ragged and frantic. Gojyo was cursing, warning Hakkai to stay back. Something new was going down.

Racing along the corridor, Goku and Sanzo reached the others just as a burly guy lifted Hakkai right off the floor and threw him against the wall like he was made of driftwood. The guy's hooked nails were yellowed, gnarled, and bloody.

"Motherfucker," Gojyo spat, launching himself at the guy, throwing a punch at his head. The berserker easily caught Gojyo's wrist and yanked hard. Hakkai kicked out and up from his position on the floor, striking the berserker straight in the solar plexus, but the guy had some steel grip or something – he didn't let go of Gojyo, didn't budge a fucking inch.

"Oy, kappa, get the fuck out of the way," barked Sanzo, taking aim.

"Easier said than – ah! – done, dipshit!" Gojyo finally managed to pry the berserker's hand off him and sprang away, hitting the wall and sliding down, clutching his arm.

Sanzo's gun roared. A split second later the guy's shoulder exploded in fragments of bone and thick dark blood, spraying the wall like modern art behind him. On his feet again, Gojyo kicked him hard in the face when he began to tower toward them, sending him down, putting him out.

Striding up, Sanzo stood over the guy's form, then fired off the ending shot. The berserker's body went still.

The air was rich with gunpowder and sweat and blood. Goku scrunched his nose, staring at the carnage in disbelief. It was impossible to think only hours ago he and Sanzo were drifting off to sleep beside one another. That Hakkai and Gojyo were shut up in their room, too. The whole night had been packed with surprise after surprise and, with all the violence, confusion and pain, Goku found himself pumped, pulse thudding with adrenaline.

"C'mon," Gojyo prompted, shoving open the door to the holding room where Goku had once changed into his prison clothes under the watchful gaze of the black suited men. He wondered if they were still alive.

As they heaved into the room, a flash of movement caught Goku's eye to his right; he spun, hands out, as a pair of dripping fangs snapped at his face. Forcing the berserker backward with a shove, Goku realised this one would have to go down too, if they were to move on without being badly hurt – or killed. With no time to signal the others, he let instinct take over; as the crazed man lurched at him, Goku jumped up, kicking himself off the wall in a spin, his leg out. An almighty yell rose from his throat, one he wasn't even aware of making but could hear clearly in his own ears, as his foot connected with the side of the guy's head. A sickening crunch of skull and the berserker went down harder than a sack of shit, in a dead slump, blood seeping from his ears, the back of his head.

Shaking, disbelieving, with more of that heady adrenaline coursing through him, Goku swallowed around the thick lump in his throat. When he looked up at the others, they were all staring at him, frozen like they'd been built straight out of the floor.

"What?" he panted.

"What the hell are you?" The hint of wonder in Sanzo's tone squeezed at Goku's chest and he bit his lower lip, shrugging.

"I dunno. You guys okay?"

"Yes, but we really need to get a move on if we want to avoid more of the same," Hakkai pointed out.

"After you, my good man," said Gojyo, indicating for Hakkai to lead the way. Without further ado, they moved through to the entrance, past the main desk where personal items were handed when new inmates came in. The large steel doors, much like the gates within the prison's belly, were dented and hanging open like they'd been slammed with an unbelievable force. One berserker couldn't have done it, but fifteen or twenty – definitely. Those guys were strong, frighteningly strong.

The sky outside had just started turning hazy bruise hues as dawn sluggishly approached, but the city's streetlights were still burning, casting an orangey glow up and rebounding off the tenebrous clouds above. As they passed under the high arching gates, Gojyo stooped and picked up a broken metal gate rung, twirling it in his hand once before smirking with satisfaction.

"This'll do me." His red eyes fell on Goku. "You should arm yourself, man. We've got a long night ahead and a lot more of that crazy shit to contend with. Though, fuck, you can move." His smirk turned to an appraising grin, one Goku took a sick kind of pride in. He knew he shouldn't be proud he could hurt others so easily, though it wasn't like he'd had much choice. Kill or be killed, he figured. Kill or watch his friends killed. That was what it was.

"Uh, right." Goku hurried across the entrance court, where a uniformed body was sprawled against one wall. Tugging a baton out of the officer's belt holster, Goku hitched it into the waist of his trousers, then ran to catch up to the others who had already reached the street. Freedom. Only not quite.

Outside, he slowed and blinked, looking around the wide, deserted street. There was no way of describing it other than total destruction. Cars sat abandoned and crumpled in the