The Line Between Us and Them (mostly gen, R)

[formerlydf]

title: The Line Between Us and Them
fandom: Wentzdom
pairing: Implied Pete/Patrick and Keltie/Ryan, but mostly gen
summary: Cellblock D gets a prisoner transferred over. The reactions are... interesting.
warning: Lots of cursing, slurs, violent language and mentions of suicide. Also, I made all of the bandom boys into sociopaths. Um, sorry?
notes: So, certain people who watch my journal may or may not recognize this as part of the sociopath AU, which until now I have resisted writing more than a snippet of. Unfortunately, it wouldn't get out of my head, so I typed this up. Even more unfortunately, it still won't get out of my head, so...



Every so often they get a transfer. It happens once during Max's second stint in cellblock D, about two weeks into the six-month shift. New Guy is B. Keller, convicted rapist and occasional murderer. One of the girls who hadn't been occasioned had worked up the balls to testify against him, and he'd been put away four years ago - cellblock C. Now he's here.

None of the regular guards know why prisoners get transferred. Max tries asking Thompson, who's had at least five shifts in D, since before they made the new schedule, but Thompson just says, "Fuck if I know, Donnis. Ask one of the FTs."

They both laugh, because "ask one of the FTs" means you're never gonna fucking know. None of the regs ever ask the full-time guards anything. Max worked night shift last time, he's met McCoy, and the crop of girls suddenly on day shift are just as creepy. There's something fucking wrong with anyone who'd watch this group of crazies year-round, and Max just spent the last eighteen months staring into the ugly mugs of a bunch of motherfuckers who would swallow tape-wrapped razor blades to get away from their cellmate. He knows from crazy.

So, four guards frog march Keller down the hall, past the whistling, catcalling prisoners, all the way to the empty cell in the middle.

"Lucky you," Nickerty tells Keller, whisking off the cuffs and shoving him in the cell. He slams the door shut with a big smile. Nickerty's a fucking lucky bastard, already counting down the hours until he switches shift in a week. He gets to go run Isolation down in the main block, way away from D. "You get neighbors."

Keller sneers. "Think they'll lend me some sugar?" He's got a nasty voice, hoarse and wet. That's the last thing some of those girls heard, Max thinks, maybe in an alley or maybe in a bed somewhere. He doesn't know for sure; details trip you up, suck you in, everyone knows that, like Yonick and that fat asshole who liked keys, back in A.

"Depends how good of a neighbor you are," Saporta says smoothly, from his cell right across the way. Keller'll get to stare into his eyes all night long. Max is glad not to be in his place. Looking into Saporta's eyes - having Saporta stare at you - for too long will fuck you up.

"Fuck you, if anyone has some sugar, I want to make souffle," Suarez says. His and Carden's cells sandwich Keller's. Max is just about to go slap a hand on his cell door, yell at him for talking, when he hears shoes click angrily down the hall. It's one of the chicks, and Max got the lowdown, the updated list of rules two weeks ago. The chicks are just like McCoy, McGinley, Kasongo and Roberts over on night shift - they don't let the regs get stern with the inmates, and they've got no sense of guard unity.

Also they don't like to get called by their last names, which pisses Max off but hell if he's going to take it up with them. Thompson told him what happened to Worgan.

It's Cassie coming down the hall, her hair twisted up and her arms crossed. "Souffle? Damn, I could go for that," Cassie says. "I can steal an EZ Bake oven from my niece, think that'll work?"

"As long as you can appreciate it and not just poke at it until it collapses," Suarez says, glaring over to the cell on Saporta's left, where Novarro is standing.

Novarro raises his hands palm-out, stepping back. "I told you, that was Ryland."

"Enough, boys," Cassie says, smiling slightly. She's kind of hot, but there's something weird about her smile. It's like Lorie when she looks at a kid or Max when he gives her a foot rub. Fond. Who's fond of these freaks? "Time to let our new prisoner get settled in. Play nice, now."

Max walks away. Nothing more for him to do, and he doesn't want to watch Cassie walk away because he's going to be tempted to watch her ass and he'll never hear the end of it from the prisoners.

Transfers are different from the rest of the D crazies. All of them came in here straight off, usually hush-hush, because they did something that raised a big stink back out in the real world. Hell, Lorie recognized their names, and he knew since before they got married that she hates reading the news. She hates him working D block, too, but the pay's a lot better and anyway, it's only six months each shift, with eighteen months in between. Can't get too attached, or they'll fuck with your brain.

Transfers are normal-crazy, razor-blade crazy, which is still less crazy than D block.

"What're you saying, Wentz?" Keller growls. Max doesn't even try to make them shut up anymore, because one of the chicks cuts him off every time he tries. Fogert, one of the last of the original day shift FTs, helps out sometimes, but you can never trust an FT, and anyway, the chicks have them all controlled.

Lorie laughs sometimes when he tells her, says that it's about time women showed that they can kick some ass, and Max is too busy trying to keep his job and his gorgeous wife separated in his head that he just changes the subject and doesn't try to explain.

"I'm saying at least I'm not a fucking rapist, Keller." All the inmates say Keller's name strangely, sometimes sweet, sometimes rough and angry. It's different every time, but they always use his name, never give him a nickname, even though they've started some sort of fucking high school bullying campaign.

"Because you didn't have the balls for it," Keller snorts. "Had to brainwash them first."

"Only guys without balls rape," Wentz says, taking his tray full of slop and sitting down at a table, his fucking puppy dog Stump right at his side. Stump's a sicko. Who the hell demands - not begs, Wentz would be pissed if Stump ever had to beg - to be let into prison? "I prefer everyone in my bed to want to be there. Makes the sex better, not that you'd know anything about good sex."

Trohman's right behind Keller in line, poking his schnoz over Keller's shoulder. "Maybe he just doesn't get when she's not that into him." Keller shoves an elbow back, but Trohman dodges before it can hit his spleen, and Keller just hits his elbow against the wall. He barely hides a wince; Cassie "accidentally" disconnected his shoulder three days ago. She said he was resisting when she tried to make him go inside. Keltie and Haley, the only other witnesses, gave the same story.

"There's an easy way to fix that," Wentz says with a snort, sticking his spork into his slop so it stands straight up and looking over at Haley. She's talking to Smith over in the corner.

Fucking FTs, too good to even pretend to talk to the regs when they don't have to. They're all freaks.

"Hey Haley!" Wentz yells. "Would you sleep with me?"

"No chance, Pete," Haley yells back, sharing a grin with Smith and Ross, who comes to join them. Urie and Walker probably won't be far behind, once they quit talking to Siska and Asher in line.

Stump snorts. "Pete doesn't rape, he just hits on you like crazy and then backs off because you're sixteen and might have Stockholm Syndrome, even though you'd think that if he could shut down enough morals to bomb Mississippi, he could shut down the rest of them as well."

"Because everyone should be willing!" Wentz protests.

"I don't know, Pete, I feel like the only way I'd be able to deal with you in bed without killing you would be to tie you down and gag you," Haley says, shrugging. She looks so sweet and innocent, and then she comes out with this shit. It's not right. "But I don't think your wife would approve."

"Yeah, and Ashlee probably wouldn't be happy either," Wentz says thoughtfully.

Stump punches him in the shoulder without even looking. "Shut up." He takes a bite of glop and swallows it before saying, "Besides, if it's Ashlee it's okay, as long as I get to watch. We've discussed this."

"You have?" Wentz demands, poking Stump's side. "Why haven't I heard about this? Dude, she could've been conjugal-visiting the fuck out of me!"

"Fucking fags," Keller mutters. "Boys back in C block would love to slam their dicks up your fairy asses. You'd probably like it, too."

He's not looking in the direction Max is, doesn't see Keltie ghost up behind him and put her hands all gentle-like on his shoulders. Then he tries to turn around, the muscles on his arms bulging like they're going to burst.

Max keeps one hand on his gun and looks at the wall, because he's not about to help out an inmate over a guard, but she's a goddamn FT and they don't like it when the regs try to help. Besides, he doesn't know what the fuck Keller was doing wrong, except talking, and they all talk.

"I think that's enough out of you, prisoner," Keltie says softly. Max glances over quickly and sees her fingers digging into Keller's skin, one had still on his shoulder and the other a hell of a lot closer to his jaw. "Let's get you back to your cell now, hmm? And I'd like it if you didn't cause trouble when I cuffed you."

Keller hasn't exactly been keeping quiet, but when when he stops cursing at her and tries harder to turn around, she lets him. Then she hits him in the jaw, and he sinks back against the table. Max hears Haley's handcuffs snick around Keller's wrists before he sees the shiny proof.

"Men," Haley sighs. "Always interrupting perfectly good conversations. Hey, Kelts, I'll handle this. Why don't you go calm Ryan down? You know how squeamish he is when things get violent."

Keltie laughs. Max wants to. Ross freaking about a little blood, what a joke. It'd be like an arsonist getting scared when he sees a lit candle.

Haley muscles Keller out of the room, nodding as she passes Max. "Donnis." Max nods back. The guards watch them go, but none of the inmates even pay attention.

All the guys in D are weird with Keller. Not even normal-weird, because Max might be able to handle that. They ignore him for a week, then they talk to him nonstop for two days, always provoking him, trying to get him pissed off and yelling. Then they ignore him again, like he's on isolation without actually going anywhere. Even the chicks ignore him. If it's lunch or free time and he starts trying to throw punches, the other guards - Fogert, Minton, Laffner, and the regs - have to tackle him down and take him to his cell.

Then Carden starts hanging out with him. Max doesn't want to pay attention, doesn't want to get sucked in, but he can't help it. Carden wanders over to Keller's spot during free time and the guards all have to keep their eyes open when the psychos are out of their cells.

Carden's a nasty son of a bitch. Max wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley. Rich guys get a lot of perks, but at least joes like Max never got targeted when Carden, Siska, Chislett, Mrotek and Beckett were at large. Course, the rich guys never exactly minded Beckett targeting them - at first.

Keller stays wary at first, but Carden's not a talker, never harasses Keller like the rest of them do during the talking periods. Carden sits about three feet from Keller every day during the frees, just sits. Eventually Keller stops watching him out of the corner of his eye.

Then they sit at the same table at lunch. Then they start talking, just a couple sentences here and there. Keller's not a chatterbox when he's not pissed, so they don't say much, but Max hears some muted bitching. Carden nods along calmly, not even looking at his pals, maybe because they're not looking at him.

Keller usually leers when the chicks walk by, but one day Keltie calls him on it. "Man," she says, one hand on her hip, "I wish we had met out in the real world, because if you'd tried anything on me I would've rammed my stilettos so far up your ass I would kick your balls out through your mouth."

Ross groans from his cell. "Keep talking." He's close with Keltie, the kind of close where Max would get suspicious if Keltie ever took Ross for a little talk in private.

"You some kind of masochist, Ross?" Keller asks. They've been winding him up for the last half-hour, getting him antsy. "That get you off?"

"Thinking of her doing it to you, yeah," Ross tells him, in that fucking monotone of his. It's just plain unnerving. Nobody should be able to just bleed all the emotion out of their voice. "Keltie's hot when she's beating up vermin."

"You know when a girl is hot, Ross?" Keller demands, smirking. "Thought you had too many daddy issues for that."

And fuck, that's about the stupidest thing you could say to Ross. Even the most suicidal guards don't call him George, just like they don't eat burgers in front of Hurley. Ross doesn't rise to it, though, just smiles, which is maybe even worse.

"Not that the girl isn't fine," Keller continues, looking Keltie up and down slowly. She snorts and keeps walking, making her rounds. He watches her go. "Body like that, she couldn't not be. I'd love to get between those legs."

"Generally the men who talk about women the most are the ones who really want to get pounded into the mattress," Beckett says thoughtfully, tapping his fingers against the wall. "In my experience, at least."

"They don't want you because they want cock, Beckett, they want you because you're a girl. You're all fucking girls."

"Does that mean you want to fuck us all?" Max thinks that one comes from Smith, but he's not sure. It could have been any of them - should have been Saporta or Urie, but they've been quiet recently, which can't be good.

"Lay off the guy," Carden says - and he's been doing that recently, which also can't be good.

"Mike, what's going on?" Chislett demands. Somehow the accent makes him sound even angrier. "You've been hanging out with this guy, and now you're defending him?"

"What, now I have to get your approval? I said cool it, okay?"

"Oh, so we should all just do what you want?" Siska asks, flipping his mop of hair out of his face.

"Do I hear arguing in my jail cell?" a voice booms. It's too familiar from Max's last D shift, when he had to follow every single frigging order given by that voice. Fucking McCoy.

Max leans over and nudges Ramirez and States, who've been standing back and watching with him. "Hey. If night shift is here already, I'm gone. What about you?"

"Hell yes," Ramirez says, already heading down the hall. Max and States follow him. "See ya, McCoy. Good shift."

McCoy nods absently, already paying more attention to Beckett, who says, "Travie!" delightedly.

"Bill," McCoy laughs, and then Max can't hear anymore.

Five weeks until Max switches blocks. Lorie will be happy; she says he's antsier when he's on D. Maybe he'll send a letter to the Big Boss, ask to be put out of D rotation, but the extra money is too good for now.

Funny that they get hazard money when cellblock D is the most peaceful one. Max hasn't had to break up a single fight here. There are other things that you have to worry about.

He's thinking about that when he walks in, ready to start his shift. "Hey Andersson," he says, nodding.

Andersson is getting ready to go home. He looks relieved. "Guess what?" he asks, grabbing his bag. "Carden and Keller broke up."

"The fuck?" Max asks.

"You heard me. Nobody knows what happened, but Carden is ignoring Keller, and Keller's getting pissed."

"Bunch of fucking teenage girls in this place," Max snorts.

"No kidding. But hey, five weeks."

"Five weeks," Max agrees, like it's an amen.

They're all back to giving Keller the silent treatment, apparently, Carden too. As far as Max can see, Keller doesn't even get a word of explanation, even though he tries - walks up to Carden, sits down at his lunch table, punches him in the face without warning. Carden ignores him, walks away, doesn't bother hitting back. States and Laffner team up to pull Keller away from Carden, which is almost unheard of, a reg and an FT working together. Then again, the old FTs aren't like the chicks, or Travis and his boys.

Keller gets pissed, then he gets sullen, sitting in the corner of his cell and doing pushups for most of the day. Regs excluded, nobody talks to him, nobody looks at him, nobody acts like he exists. Guy's going nuts, Max thinks, and Max knows crazy.

"Heard from Mustaph, over in B," Norrington says, leaning against the wall. "Some guy got pretty much every bone in his body broken by his cellmate. Says the Russians and the Irish are going at it again. They've had three blackouts in the last week."

"Fucking Irish, they'll fight anyone," Max snorts. He looks over at O'Connell. "Not you, OC."

"I know," O'Connell says, shrugging.

"Hey," Voston hisses, nodding his head down at the walled-in courtyard where the inmates get their free time. "Check it out."

Saporta is on a direct course for Keller. Max has his walkie-talkie at his mouth before he even has to think about it, talking to the regs on ground-level duty. "Hey, Thompson," he says. "Saporta's heading for Keller. Keep an eye out."

"Will do, Donnis," Thompson says, the walkie-talkie making his voice scratchier than usual. "Ah, fuck."

Max doesn't have to ask what, because he sees it; Saporta isn't the only one heading for Keller. Urie is less direct about it, but he's walking. This can't be good.

"Glad I'm not on ground duty today," he says.

"Yeah, laugh it up," Thompson mutters.

Saporta heads for a bench a few feet to Keller's right, and Urie, over on Keller's left, starts turning cartwheels in an empty patch of grass. What a girl. It looks like that was their plan all along, but Max doesn't trust these little shits. He sure as hell hopes that Keller's going to start a fight and the ground guards can lock him up in his cell, get him out of the way, because otherwise -

"They're talking." Thompson sounds disgusted, and Norrington and Voston shake their heads.

"Fuck," Voston says. "I wonder if he's got the brains not to listen."

"I wouldn't count on it," O'Connell says.

Urie and Saporta talk to Keller in whispers for three days. He moves away every time, and sometimes they even wait a while before following, maybe making him think he got away with it. Sucker. Somehow, Urie and Saporta always find ways to silently turn up, right behind him. None of the other psychos even look at him.

Three days, and then when Max comes in Andersson tells him that someone found a rope and gave it to Keller. Nobody knows who, nobody knows when. All they know is that when the regs got back from doing some stupid errand the chicks had sent them on, Keller was swinging from a noose.

Max makes his first round and looks at Saporta, who's staring at the empty cell across from him. Saporta smirks.

And it's funny - now that Max is thinking of it, weren't all the empty cells at the end of the hall, at the very beginning of his six months? When did they get an empty cell in the middle of everyone?

"Yeah," Thompson says when they're about to head for their own homes, "this happened last time, too."

"Oh, you mean Nicole Gary?" Keltie asks, walking over. She sounds mildly interested. "Travis mentioned her. Drug trafficking, nasty stuff. I think she was up for parole when she managed to slit her wrists. Travis said she never seemed very repentant, so maybe it was for the best."

This - fuck. "So the Big Boss just transfers them here?" Max demands. "Just picks out which ones should die and sends them over?"

"You really going to cry over the death of someone who raped at least ten women and killed three?" Keltie retorts, her voice as cold as ice.

"No," Max says immediately, because he's seen more guys die in jail than she ever will. It's just fucked up, this whole fucking block is fucked up. "But - why?" Most of them have higher death counts than Keller would in three lives, after all, and regular drug trafficking is nothing compared to mass destruction or seizing a country, so what set all of fucking D block against the transfers?

Keltie shrugs. "They weren't one of us."

She doesn't mean the guards, or even just the FTs. She means whatever fucking thing that they're all a part of, her, Haley, Cassie, McCoy and his guys, all those freaks in their cells. There's something wrong with a prison when the guards call themselves and the prisoners "us" and the Big Boss sends over transfers because he (or she, fuck, it's a bitch thing to do) knows that they're going to get a full-scale attack mounted against them. Less than five months to convince one of the tough guys of C to off himself, shit.

Max is fucking glad he's got three weeks left. Maybe he will send that letter asking to be taken off of D rotation. Then there'll be less outsiders to deal with, and isn't that what they want? He may not be getting rope slipped into his locker, but he's sure as hell not part of that "us," either.

"Problem?" Keltie asks, smiling sweetly, and Max just shakes his head and walks away.