A lack of identification and unwillingness to communicate meant Anthony was not granted any juvenile punishment. He found himself in a very unfriendly, yet somewhat familiar, environment. The cell is dank and unforgiving, the constant sound of jeering and anarchy echos through the halls and there is little natural light. 

In his time, he had seen the visitors cubicals, though not made use of them, the courtyard and the canteen. 

Not forgetting his own, miserable accommodation. 

Anthony sank into his cot and stared blankly at the ceiling until a voice calls out from beyond his cell. 

He recognised the shouts as Myriel Renard, and stood to meet his gaze. 

She closed the door to the cab gentle and then stood with her back to it, staring up at the building before her. Her purse was held in both hands, trying hard to mask the tremors of her nerves. She had never been to a prison before. She was pulled out of her thoughts when the cab drove away, splashing through a nearby puddle. She took a step forward, and then another. Opening the door she stepped inside and went up to the reception desk. 

The area was simple, a wooden bench with arm rests. There was a smelly drunk man hand cuffed to one of the arm rests, sleeping off last night's celebrations, she supposed. She stood where the sign directed her to and she looked through the glass crossed with wires curiously. She wondered if it was bullet proof. When motioned forward, she took a step and then another, setting her purse on the metal counter. "Excuse me," she said bending down to speak through the small opening at the bottom of the window, "I'm here to see an inmate, if possible?" she informed the man sitting there. 

He did not appear to be all that impressed, which was a shame. He had no idea how much of a big deal this was for Gracie. "His name is Anthony Black," she added, as if that would magically grant her access. "I do believe he's being kept here." she fiddled with the clasp on the purse just waiting for the man to say something, anything. He let out a grunt and lifted his massive form out of the chair to move over to a clipboard hanging on the wall. Gracie noted the filing cabinets, and that the gun that he was probably supposed to be wearing, was resting on top of it. 

He flipped through a few pages, making low grunting noises while he read the list. "Anthony Black is allowed visitors." he finally said as he lowered the sheets back to their original position and hung the clipboard back up on the wall. "I'll escort you to the visiting area." he told her, "But I'll have to check your person first." Gracie bit the inside of her cheek to keep the smart ass comment from coming forth at the idea of this man putting his meaty paws on her. She simply bowed her head in agreement and stepped back. The man left the little office through a side door, which brought him right to the gated area leading deeper into the jail. "Alright," he said as he pulled out the keys from his left pocket and unlocked the door. "Come through." 

Gracie did as he asked, breathing through her mouth in an effort not to panic. Inhale. Exhale. Pause. Inhale. Exhale. Pause. She turned around as he instructed and put her hands up on the brick wall. She didn't know if this was standard procedure or not, but if it meant she could see Anthony, then she'd do it. She closed her eyes as the man patted her down, not once, but twice. She had chewed the inside of her mouth so hard in an effort not to make a sound or have a reaction, that she could taste blood. He directed her to turn around and hand over her purse. She did so quickly, ready for this ordeal to be over. It was humiliating, and she was just here to visit. Her heart felt pain for Anthony. 

"Right, you're fine." He said as he handed the purse back. "Follow me." he added before lumbering down the hall way, past four doors all closed. The fifth door was cracked open, and with a quick peek Gracie was able to see a man leaning back in his chair, holding a cup of coffee and a newspaper. She didn't manage to see what the plaque on his desk said. The turned a corner and the man unlocked the door and shoved her in, none to gently. "I'll find out if he is up for visitors." he said to her, "If not, I'll come back and get you." he told her before closing the door and locking it behind her. 

She looked around the room, noting the high windows with bars over them. The few tables and chairs were flimsy and not very well made. She moved to one of them and set her bag on top of it. She supposed it would have been easier to get in touch with the leaders of Detroit and ask if any of them had contacts within the prison for her to ease her way in, but she didn't want to raise suspicions about her visit and announce her ties to the organization. So she was here as a doctor, and as a mother of sorts. She leaned against the far wall and watched the door, holding her breath to see if AnthonyBlack would consent to see her. 

With no name given as to the visitor, Anthony came through the door with raised brows. His hair was shaved to the scalp and he had a whisper of facial hair. In typical attire, there was no real indication as to his condition. His hands remained cuffed between a long chain, however the escorting guard did not immediately leave. 

His face lit up on sight of Gracie and his eyes welled slightly. 

"Gracie..!" His whisper turned to explanation and he looked to the guard, raising his wrists in suggestion. 

He was declined the favour, with the guard mentioning something about being in debt to him. Regardless, Anthony lunged forward for an embrace. 

"Oh Anthony," she said as she wrapped her arms around him holding him close. "It is so good to see you." she told him, talking to the side of his neck as now he was quite taller than her. She pulled back slightly, her eyes filled with tears threatening to spill over. "My god," she said before reaching up to rub his head, "Where did your beautiful hair go?" she asked him, she didn't wait for an answer, she just pulled him close again and hugged him until he was ready to let go. 

A short time passes, the boy can be heard holding back emotion. There is a sudden rap on the door, a voice calls out from beyond the room advising there are a few minutes left. Anthony pulls back and looks Gracie up and down, examining her, and seemingly satisfied, meets her gaze. 

"Lily...?"

She ignores the fact that he spoke, because if she started thinking about it too much she'd cry. "Ah, yes." she said moving over to where she put her purse. "She sent you something," she told him pulling out a plastic bag with some cotton candy from the boardwalk in it. She opened it up "Gotta eat it quick, though." she said, glancing at the door. 

"And this, is from me." she told him, pulling out a sugar daddy. She knelt down and tucked the candy in his sock for later. "Its not much, but I figured it might give you a reason to smile." she told him. She held up the bag again, waiting for him to shove the sweet cloud of joy in his mouth. 

"She sends her love, though. She was over the moon when she figured out I was coming here." she told him. "I may see about getting her in, but that guard..." she trailed off with a shiver of repulsion, "I don't know if I can let her go through that." she said to him. "Are they treating you ok?" she asked, looking him over to make sure he wasn't suffering of anything right then and there. 

His face broke into a smile he couldn't control and he quickly devoured the cotton candy. The taste was a nostalgia trip that triggered very favorable memories. 

He nodded while finishing the mouthful and licking his fingers clean. 

"They do if I pay."

The door opens and the guard returns. 

She frowned at those words, storing them away. "Ok." she finally said, looking into Anthony's eyes. "I'll come back tomorrow." she told him, "I've taken the whole week off, and so I'll be in town." she reached out and cupped his cheek as her own tears started to fall. "Figure out what you need, and how I can help." she told him softly, so softly she wasn't even sure if he heard him. 

"Hey, no whispering!" the guard yells, coming over and roughly moving between the two of them. She watches the guard and Anthony, presuming that she'd have to wait to be escorted back to the front area of the building. She snaps her purse closed and starts pacing, wondering if Anthony will notice the note she has painstakingly written on the wrapper of the sugar daddy. 

"Things people need: Love, friendship and information. - G" 

Was all it said. She hoped it got her simple message across and gave the boy, who was no longer a boy, a bit of hope for the future. 

Some weeks later. Anthony sits with his back to the wall and watches the ceiling. The wing is loud and chaotic. He takes a deep breath and let's his mind wander. Clean socks, fresh air, alcohol, working, friends, family, freedom,...  Gracie. 

... 

Lily. 

He ran his hands over his skull, right at the moment a holler is heard from across the hall. Another prisoner holds a small stick and gestures to the boy. This prompts Anthony to rummage through his bedding, eventually pulling out a packet of cigarettes. He tosses them through the bars, they sail across the hall and into a waiting hand. 

The stick is returned in kind, and Anthony catches it. 

A pencil. 

He pulls some scraps of paper out of his bed and lays on his stomach, carefully scripting. 

Renard had named the ceiling tiles. 

It wasn't something he was particular proud of, and he hadn't shared that particular tidbit with anyone. But boredom was the enemy. He had named the tiles after people in the New York neighborhood where he'd grown up. Mr. Johnson, the baker, was a tile off to the side. Just looking at that tile made him hungry. Miss Foster, the beautiful young woman he'd fallen in love with when he was eight, was one of the corners. She'd been fifteen years older than him, so it was never anything more than a crush, but still. 

His family were the four tiles in the middle.

At that moment, he heard the retreating sound of boots and quickly popped up to a sitting position where he hollered once to get the attention of AnthonyBlack. 

Laughing, he quickly hides the cigarettes and leans back, speaking softly so only Anthony could hear him.

"So... writing a love note? Heard you had a visitor? The guard seemed pretty impressed with her. Or is it a treasure map?"

Renard scowled at Jimmy Parker, a tile near the hall.

"Don't tell me it's a confession. You try to dance with a bedsheet and I'm calling the guard."

Anthony heard the chatter across the wing, however kept writing as the man spoke. He tilted his head and furred his brow, thinking up the words and letters in his head. As the man continued to talk, he sat up on his haunches and looked across the cell. He watched Renard looking up at the tiles for a moment, until he looked back, and so focused his gaze on the ceiling tiles in the man's cell also. 

After a chaotic, confusing first flight ever, Lily was in Detroit. With sunglasses, heavy makeup, and a scarf in her hair, her fourteen years were visually bumped to perhaps twenty as she approached the prison in a cab. 

Once there, though, the spunk and fire that used to so clearly define her dissipated. After passing some bills to the driver, she simply stood there, unsure how to proceed. Without identification, a birth certificate, or even a plausible lie, she comes to the realization that she is no Superman. She can't save Anthony. She can't do a thing, not one thing.

Slowly walking the perimeter of the prison once, then twice, she pulls her small notebook from her clutch and takes a seat against a large rock that faces the side of the prison with the most windows. 

Hoping. Against hope. Maybe he had a window.

As she sits and waits, she begins to sketch. The prison layout comes to life under her pencil...the shape of the building itself, the windows with and without bars, the doors, the guards.

She was running late, and she knew it. This morning she had overslept and now she was running from the cab to the front doors of the prison. flinging them open she looked around, wide eyed and frantic. Realizing this was not a great look for her, she took a few deep breaths and calmly got in line behind the other visitors. When she was motioned forward it was a different guard this time. He was tall, lanky and a bit dirty looking. "Hello, I'm here to see Anthony Black." she told him, setting her purse on the counter. 

The man did the same as yesterday, picking up the clipboard and looking through it. She noted that this one wore his gun on him, rather than leaving it out of arms reach. She filed that away and then smiled helpfully at him while he decided wether or not Anthony could have visitors. "Alright, come on through." he told her in a shockingly deep voice given his stature. She moved to the gate and braced herself for the groping that was to follow. 

While this tall thin man did pat her down, he did it with efficiency on his mind rather than copping a cheap feel. She didn't feel overly uncomfortable, and it was over before she knew it. She realized that this one played things by the rules, and that would be difficult with their plans. Turning her attention to the guard she followed him down the hallway. 

This time the first and third door were open, one looking like a break room, and the other looking like another office, but with two desks in it rather than just the one. The break room contained two guards, one reading the paper and the other stirring a cup of coffee in a Styrofoam cup. She turned her attention back to the guard and followed. 

When they got to the room she started pacing, while she waited for Anthony to join her. 

The door opened and Anthony lurched forward, his feet catching himself in enough time to avoid the floor. The accompanying guard was different, and a little more physical. He sat the boy down in a chair forcefully and promptly exited. 

His hair was growing back and bristled all across his head. His sleeves were rolled up which revealed abrasions to the backs of his forearms, as well as the scribbled tattoos from his past. Overall he appeared healthy. A bruised cheek looked up at Gracie and he smiled, wide and stupidly. 

She rushed over and knelt down next to him, "Are you ok?" she asked him, "How did this happen?" she ran her fingers over the marks on his arm and frowned. "I didn't think to bring a first aid kit with me..." she muttered. She reached up and grabbed his chin gently and turned his head, "Please tell me the other guy looks worse," she said to him as she let go and looked at him. 

Anthony let himself be fussed, it had been a while and it just reminded him what the difference was between life in the inside and freedom. He wrapped his arms around Gracie and gave her a firm squeeze. Time was passing, but it felt like a crawl to him. He eventually let go and looked her over. 

"Everyone is OK?"

His voice was soft, yet controlled and calm. He watched with keen eyes for a response. 

There is a rap on the door. 

She nodded her head, "We miss you. Lily misses you more, I think." she said with a smile. "She had some trouble, its not my news to share, but if she has mentioned it, don't worry I'm helping her in all of the ways that I can." She ran her hand over his head. "God, Anthony. If I could tear this place apart brick by brick to get you out of here, I would." She glanced up at the door when the same guard came back in. She frowned and then turned her gaze back to Anthony, daring to ask a simple few questions and hoping he figures out her meaning. "Favorite number?" she asked him, wondering if he'd realize she was asking about the average amount of guards on duty daily. She forced a bright goofy grin, then a laugh so the guard wouldn't come over to quickly, "Do you prefer nighttime or daytime?" She asked him, glancing at the window for effect. 

His thoughts scattered.  His expression turned to one of fright, or fear. He held firm into Gracie as the guard approached and struggled against his attempts to remove him. 

"Lily...?!"

The word escapes his lips, the guard curses and the two exit the room. 

"Fuck." she says as she stands up. She wants to scream, yell, kick things and throw a tantrum that would make any two year old envious. But instead she bites the inside of her cheek, shaking slightly from the fury inside her at fucking it up so badly and stands waiting for the guard to come and escort her back to the exit. When he comes she doesn't even acknowledge him, because who knows what she would do if she let go of the reins she had on her emotions. 

Exiting the jail she got into the cab. Once out of the cab and safely in her hotel room did she start screaming obscenities. Once she was drained, the lamp was smashed and there was a decent size dent in the wall from her shoe, she sat down at the desk to write Anthony a letter. 

There was a knock on her hotel room and when she opened it a note had been delivered to her. She rubbed her eyes and squinted down at it, not sure what was going on. Once the words registered she quickly threw on some clothes and put her hair in a bun and headed downstairs. "cab." she called to the front desk before practically flying out the door. Her boy needed her, and there wasn't anything that was going to stop her. She stood on the sidewalk, pacing while she waited for the cab. Wryly, she realized this is why people smoked. 

Once she got in the cab she twiddled her thumbs watching the world pass her by. At the jail she got out, paid far too much for the fare and headed to the doors, on a mission. Behind the desk was the man from her first visit. She inwardly cringed, but went through the whole process again. She flinched a few times when he touched her, which made him touch her more. She clenched her jaw, and imagined putting a bullet in his head. 

She was led to the room where she stood a few feet away from the door, wringing her hands. She didn't know what was wrong, she didn't know how to fix it. But if her being here helped at all, well then, there she was.