Stacy
Shady visits April at the jailhouse.
Jessie
A visit was long overdue.

This feeling was the same as when he thought about what he'd done to Alma Cooper, back in the beginning: he felt guilty. *Guilty* Felt like a sucking stab wound. This was a different brand of the same ache: not, *I did this,* But, *It should have been me,* Or even, *Couldn't I have stopped this?*

Despite how much time he whiled away thinking on it, he hadn't come to any conclusion other than the realization it didn't matter: she was locked up, and she was in danger, and her husband was dead, and their collective time was all ticking away faster than he could strategize. 

For the time being, he'd finagled it so he could walk free. Wasn't that some shit? Shady Rooster strutting into the Briar Ridge jail, accosted at the door because he'd brought the warmest blanket he could come up with and they were telling him he couldn't *Give a prisoner a blanket,* Like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

*Why'n the hell not?*

And there were a dozen or so reasons, some dark enough to make his head spin. After that he just wanted *In,* Empty-handed or not, and didn't notice when he was followed. No way two wolves would be able to speak without being observed. He might set her loose, and his freedom to enter at all was despicable to much of Briar Ridge.

He shouldered into the jailhouse, searched, and damn near broke down all in the same chaotic moment.
** **

"Jesus," He said to herald his own entrance, finding her cell at once. It was the largest on the first floor – but far from comfortable. Far from humane, but then, they were humans anymore, were they? "Jesus, April."

He came right up to the bars so he could hang onto 'em, laid his forehead against the metal.

"What'd y'all do it for?" The strangled question didn't demand an answer; it didn't matter. It was an expression of pain and regret – rhetorical. Now effectively disowned, he didn't have to worry so much what Roosters might think of him and his Big Feelings. They were far from the forefront of his mind, anyway, now that he'd laid eyes on poor April with her rounded belly locked away in that cold, colorless room.
Michele
April could smell him before he even entered the jailhouse. *Family.* About the only family she had left around here, even if he wasn't blood. Shady was like a brother to her; it lodged something that felt like a ball of cotton in her throat. Immediately, tears sprang to her eyes, sudden and without warning. 

For the first time in days, she moved from her position against the wall, shuffling closer to the bars and sitting there on the floor until he'd come into view. Her tears were thick, vision swimming so he came through to her as more of a blur than anything. 

"..'m so sorry, Shady," She said, her head lowered and shoulders trembling. She reached out enough to grip his shirt with her hand, fabric bunched up tight in her grasp. "I couldn't— I can't," Words failed her. She couldn't begin to explain to Shady how she was feeling; how she deserved to be on this side of the bars. 

"Eli," She gasped the name of her husband, her *Love*, and found pain there still. It ached, raw and fresh still. "He died because of— because of me. Because God was angry, he was angry and took my husband away because I have done God wrong," April finally lifted her eyes, wide and brimming with tears. It was hard to find a day where April Abrams wasn't crying her eyes out. 

"My first husband isn't dead. I lied. I lied because he left me for someone else and I didn't want anybody to know, and I lied because Eli came along and I never wanted anything in my life so badly, Shady," She gasped her words out, her grip on his clothes ever tighter. "And I'm a liar, and God punished me by taking... Taking the only man I ever really loved from me," A sob ripped from her throat. "I deserve to be in this prison, I'm the reason my husband... Oh, Eli..." She put her head down completely.
Jessie
He glanced down at the front of his shirt gnarled into her fist, then dared to look into her wet eyes after a short hesitation.

It was too awful to stomach. Life had always been hard, but it'd never been a horror. He'd seen plenty of awful things but everything paled beside April's heartbreak. Her pain was at the same time unimaginable and palpable. That might as well have been his heart crushed in her grip.

"Don't be sorry," He tried to mollify quietly. "April, don't be sorry." Sorry for what?

*Eli,* She said, and he braced himself. He could have guessed what might come next. He understood why she might have felt it was her fault, or why she felt guilty for surviving when her husband hadn't. From the outside it was clear that she wasn't to blame for what had happened to her. She hadn't asked for it. She'd been living her life – living it proper! – and this had all happened *To* Her. And sure, he'd been awful; sure, he'd demanded to know how she could pretend not to endure a living hell every waking minute. The truth was, if he'd had it in him, he would've done the same. Anybody would've done the same.
** **

"No," He was trying to tell her without raising his voice, "No, He ain't –"

How could God be angry with April Abrams?

She did everything you were supposed to do. She –

Well, she lied.

Confusion struck across his expression briefly, but then he crouched down in front of her without bothering to wrest her grip away from his shirt. Let her have it – why couldn't they let him bring in a damn blanket, for pity's sake? – but he did grab hold of her elbows as if by bracing her he might stop her from teetering into a confession she didn't need to make. To Shady Rooster least of all! Not that he minded, but confessing long-withheld lies like this smacked of prophesizing her own death. And he couldn't abide that. She was no small part of the reason he was determined to keep going and to try and fix this thing. Her, and her kids. What was left of this family, he wanted to save.

And wouldn't you know, he'd run into Aki? For a (drunken) moment there, he'd thought they were so damn close. Then this.

"April," He said – scolded, more like – then let go of her arms so he could clasp a hand on either side of her head as soon as she bowed it down. He didn't give her long to look at the jailhouse floor before he was trying to aim her eyes on his.
** **

"You reckon *This* Is what y'all deserve for tellin' a li'l *Lie*? That ain't how it works. This cain't be a punishment. It's somethin' else. Shit luck, a curse, maybe, but it ain't no punishment. I suwannee, I've knowed folks who done a helluva lot worse'n wanna marry somebody other'n they was. If'n God's dolin' out reckonin's, He woulda started someplace other'n you."

That said, he allowed her to look where she wanted, and let his hands drop more kindly and gently onto her shoulders instead.

"This ain't no good." No shit. "...Blamin' yerself. Y'all kin cry for missin' 'im, but I reckon y'all better think what he woulda wanted. If he was settin' in here with y'all, you reckon he'd say anything's happened was yer fault? Remember, y'all got somethin' 'a his." A nod to her belly. Meanwhile, everything he said belied what he felt: *We cain't let you rot in this place.*

He was angry about it. Angry with himself, angry with Briar Ridge. It was senseless, *Pitiless,* To keep this woman here.
Michele
Shady was a force to be reckoned with. Before their turning, before everything, April hadn't thought much of Shady Rooster on the streets of Briar Ridge. He was rough, he was a criminal, but most of those shine folks were. She turned a blind eye, prayed to God for those sinners' good health, and tried not to make eye contact. He had an air about him that had intimidated her, even frightened her. 

Now, however, she wasn't sure why she'd ever been intimidated or scared of this man. He was kind, at least to her, and gentle too. It reminded her of being a little girl; with a father who was firm but kind. Maybe it helped that Shady smelled like family, because she stopped her wailing for a moment as he forced her to meet his eyes. A few hiccups and whimpers slipped past her lips, but she had managed to collect herself enough to listen. 

He was right; if this sort of thing had happened to Eli, she knew how she'd feel about it. He wouldn't want her sitting in here, rotting away, while their children wondered where mommy and daddy had gone. She took in a shaky breath and tried not to cry; she needed to be strong. But Lord above, it was getting so hard to be strong these days. 

"You're a good man, Shady," She hiccuped her words as he shifted his hands from the sides of her head to her shoulders. She tipped her head to one side, allowing her cheek to lay on the top of his hand and her eyes fell closed. "I'm so tired, Shady. It's almost impossible to sleep in here," She confided in him. "It's cold at night, too," April sniffled a little, but tried to keep herself together with a deep breath. Her eyes fluttered open, those dark lashes stuck together from her tears. 

"I miss him so much, Shady," Her words came out as a bare whisper. "Not even a year. I didn't even get a year with him," She shuffled as close to the bars as she could possibly get.

She slid her arms carefully through the bars, being conscious of her belly, and managed to wrap her arms around his neck and shoulders to get him into what resembled a hug. 

"Promise me," She said with a shudder and a hiccup. She could hide her tears like this. "Promise me you'll be careful. And take care of yourself," She whispered. One of her hands came up, to take his, and put it on her stomach a moment. "They've gotta meet their— their Uncle Shady, don't they?" She laughed but it came out wet and devoid of humor. "Be careful," April begged again. "Please." 

There were words she wanted to say, but she didn't. Words she knew he wouldn't want to hear; like *If something should happen to me*, and so she kept herself quiet about it.
Jessie
*You're a good man, Shady.*

Selfishly, he let himself believe that for all of one heartbeat. Then, he amended her claim with, "I will be."

Somehow, when it was all said and done and if he made it through, he was gonna have to live with himself. He was gonna have to sleep at night. Being, in some capacity, good, was the only means to that end. If it let it be unattainable, he wasn't sure if he could keep dragging his carcass out of the truck or off his blanket in the mornings, or late evenings, or whatever time he saw fit to rise & crow.

"I know," He placated, and fantasized all the bloody ends the man who took away the blanket he'd brought her could come to. That wasn't the wolf talking; that was good ol' Rooster bloodthirst. It's cold, too. He said, again, "I know," Low and mollifying, sorrier than he let himself sound.

Maybe he could appeal to Alma and to whoever was in charge. Maybe he and April could trade places? But no – she was here not solely for being a wolf, but because she'd confessed to only knew what else.

*Not even a year,* She was saying, and he rubbed her shoulder and the top of her back with the hand she hadn't rested her cheek on. He had to lift his eyes, glance toward the ceiling, and resist the wet sting in his eyes. He had no idea what to say; all there was *To* Say was that it wasn't fucking fair; she didn't deserve this; Eli hadn't deserved it. But he'd said that before, and what had it helped? He couldn't bring Eli back from the dead and he could not paint a new world that suited the heart April Abrams had in her.
** **

All he could do was be here to absorb a few of the tears 'til they made him go. And her hurt was so profound he was soaked through and now *His* Eyes were leaking, and he realized too late he couldn't be strong enough for her or for any of it. Her arms wrapped around him and he embraced April in turn, but they were hugging metal more than they were each other. He couldn't lay his chin on her head or let her weep into sleep; he could just bear his cheekbone against iron and close his eyes to imagine the bars away.

"'Course," He was saying. She could've gotten him to agree readily to any promise just then, if just to take one worry off her plate. This one he could keep: he always took care of himself. But then she had one of his hands and his palm was laid across her belly, and there was movement and life inside it and he felt like somebody was crushing his heart onto a lemon reamer. He was pretty sure he could feel the pith running down his ribcage.

"'Course I will," He repeated, hanging on with all he had so he wouldn't shed a tear in front of April. He managed to keep his voice even and everything, even if his eyes were full of hurt. "I'ma teach 'em ever-thing I know, don'tchall worry none." He forced a smile. "An' April, we're gonna get y'all outta here. Y'all jest hang on. It's all gonna be jest fine. It don't seem like it right now, but they ain't no other way. Ever-thing what hurts is jest temporary."

He hesitated, then opened his mouth to say more – 

A jangle of keys heralded the return of the guard. 

"Alright, Rooster. Time's up."