Wings to Fly, Eyes that Burn

Marshall didn't get the full story of what happened until a day and a half later. They held him in the medical facility overtime due to head injuries. He'd suffered one too many knuckled fists to his skull and had to be kept a day later so he could be watched for signs of a concussion. That however didn't stop the guards from coming in and questioning him about what exactly happened. Marshall wasn't an idiot, as much as he hated the thought, whoever had won the fight would probably own him now. He had to watch what sort of things he told the guards about either man. He ended up telling them he didn't remember who or what or how and oh god, his head fucking hurt and had they heard that he had a concussion? He was glad when they finally left. All he wanted to do was sleep and pretend it never happened. He hated having to stay awake and be trapped in his own head, stuck with nothing to do but remember.

The nurse guy there was named Riggs and he would talk to Marshall when he had the time. Riggs was an all right guy, Marshall was glad he didn't ask him details about anything. It made him sick just thinking about it, he defiantly wasn't ready to talk about it. Riggs seemed to sense that. His only mention of it was to slip him a little tube of antiseptic saying; "It'll help you heal faster. You'll probably bleed for a couple days, but once that's over just apply this three times a day for a week and you should be all set. Believe me, having it get infected is a nasty business, for both partners." For both partners. Marshall didn't want a partner; too bad he had no fucking choice in the matter.

When they returned him to his cell his roommate Mekhi gave him a somewhat apologetic smile and said; "Hey man, how ya feel'n?"

Marshall shook his head and paced the room a little. "Fucked up." He finally muttered. He sat on the edge of the bottom bunk and wrung his hands out. He started nervously picking at a scab on his arm as he said; "So what've ya heard?

Mekhi frowned. "Fucked up shit. That, that Max guy wanted to own yo' ass but then that devil freak mutie came in and kicked ass an' now he's sa he he owns ya. They both got solitary an' shit, but ya know that mutie LeBeau, he's got mad connections. There's guys say'n they'll fuck anybody up that touches his property and shit. So my question is like, what the fuck you do to get stuck between these two?"

Mekhi paused and Marshall could feel his eyes on him, studying him. Mekhi was his friend but right now he couldn't stand being looked at, not by anyone. It made his skin crawl and put him on alert. His muscles tensed up and sent his heart racing. He watched his hand clench up into a fist, he had to fight himself not jump up and beat the shit out of him. He jerked his head up, practically spitting with anger as he glared daggers. "Quit fuck'n look'n at me like that." He took a deep breath and tried to steady out his anger. "I don't know what the fuck I did to get in between this two. I don't think I did anything. I think they're just use'n me as an excuse to beef." He shook his head frustrated and then felt dizzy. His dizziness pissed him off more; he hated feeling weak and moody, like a PMSing bitch. He looked up to see Mekhi looking at him with concerned confusion. Marshall snapped. He was scared and nervous, high-strung pissed off and had nowhere to go with any of those feelings but with a fist to his buddy's face.

It was a quick fight, barely even a scuffle. Marshall gave him a shiner for shit sure but Mekhi just laid him out. He wasn't going to take shit, friend or no. He held Marshall down against the bunk and told him to fucking get a hold on himself. That's when Marshall started crying. They were angry tears. Mekhi backed off and let him curl up into a little ball on the bunk, his shivering shoulders the only sign of his pain.