Mal had no way of knowing it, but he'd been unconscious for nearly 16 hours when he slowly became aware of his existence again. It wasn't so much his existence he was aware of as the hurt that invaded every fiber of his body. He tried to open his eyes to assess his surroundings, but it would appear he lacked the strength to do even that. He tensed involuntarily at the sound of voices nearby and immediately regretted it.

"You reckon they'd - we'd - actually kill him? No trial, no hearing, bang?" asked one voice casually. "More'n likely," came the bored reply. "That boy's a massive PR balltwist for the brass. Bad enough if it comes out we can't keep one little inmate from taking over an entire unit, let alone that we broke him to bits on the spot. Public doesn't take too kindly to the notion of their own government torturing POWs." There was a long pause. The first man said softly "I kinda hope we do it soon, for that poor bastard's sake."

There was a derisive snort. "Don't waste your time worrying over him. Could've been you he killed out there. Man deserves to suffer for what he did. Trying to barbecue your own side doesn't speak to kindly to anyone's nature, neither."

"Yeah, you're right. You gotta be pretty messed up to do a thing like that."

Oh God no. Mal marshaled all of his strength to raise himself up to speak. The two guards glanced into the cell to see their prisoner's head move slightly and his body move a fraction as he gave a low groan. Mal's eyes locked with the younger guard's. "No...didn't..." his face contorted with pain and once again he lay motionless on the floor.

"Still," the man continued after a moment of silence, "I...I heard a rumor. Seems some of the prisoners are saying it wasn't him that started the fire. Saying it was our guys."

"Possible, I suppose. Aidan always was the gangster type. That's the case, it's never gonna leave these walls."

Mal lay on the cement floor in utter misery. He'd seen a lot of suffering in his day, never quite comprehending how it felt to