In retrospect, Harlee knew she would wind up here sooner, not later. This was where she deserved to be. Had he wanted her here? Her imagination was getting more and more vivid with each passing day. He was dead and gone, but a part of her knew he would be with her always. Each passing day made that abundantly clear…

The walls of this two by negative four cell were closing in on her tonight. She was suffocating, her eyes bugging out. Her heart struggling to beat evenly. Fear nipped at and gnawed on her psyche, as it chawed on her gut. Beads of sweat, numerous and sizeable, pebbled her glistening forehead.

It was half-past midnight and Harlee felt utterly unbalanced. As though she were the singular person incarcerated on earth who wasn't comfortable in her own skin. She'd known beforehand how tough doing time was going to be, but enduring such affecting isolation truly was mind-bending. Yes, that must be it; this unnatural existence was messing with her mind. No doubt.

No matter who a person was, or what they were, or where they came from…everyone had a story. Hers had morphed into a tale of two dichotomies. She, once an okay cop, gone bad to worse to repentant. She was paying for her sins, and although arduous and fitfully hard, she embraced it being worth it in the long run. Wearily, she resettled herself on her bunk, listening to the colorful sounds of fellow inmates slumbering. She had no friends; she'd been a cop. Word on her had gone around.

Besides, she wasn't here to make friends. She'd do her time, get out, and get on with her life with Christina, who was currently in Woz' and his family's care. Meanwhile, her full time job in this place was to watch her back. Keep a sub-low profile. So far so good; no one had threatened her. For the most part these diverse women kept their distance. Only the occasional hot-heads would act up. What existed was a mutual understanding of an uneasy co-existence. If anyone had the nerve to start with her, she'd finish it. She was a trained, ex-NYPD strong-arm. 'Nuff' said.

Even so, at times, she felt orphaned and small. She ached to be held, reassured. Loved. She breathed in deeply. Felt the slight shudder buffet her body. She missed her child. The pain of separation physically hurt. Her heart claimed the largest share of the pain. Things were going all right for Christina, Woz related again and again. Christina's letters were lifelines.

Harlee's mind was expected to bear up under the stress foisted upon it and nurse her heavy heart. Her circuitous thoughts caused her heart to skip a few beats. "Christina…" Harlee breathlessly whispered in the dark, sighing. "Am I okay?" she asked aloud. She sucked in another breath, shallower this time. She willed her tense muscles in her leaner body to relax. She'd been hitting weights pretty hard. More wiry and ready to defend herself if anyone thought she was 'easy pickin's' because she was letting herself get soft, and try something aggressive or kinky with her.

That word. No sooner had her groggy mind dug it up, Robert Stahl stood in the midst of her mind, beckoning her to surrender to the comfort he avidly wanted to give her.

But, she would not succumb, she never did, no matter how inviting he made his overtures. Her mind, as fragile and as susceptible as it was tonight, had her seeing him razor-sharp clearly. As if she'd never lethally put him down and here he was, as real as real could be.

"Go away," Harlee reprimanded, looking at him with hard eyes that threw visual stones. "I told you before. I don't need you. I don't want you! Leave me alone." Her voice had risen with each breath.

"Hey, in there!" a loud voice, brimming with anger, butted in. "Shut your mouth, Sista! Some folks are tryin' to get some sleep! Go talk that crazy schmooze someplace else! Like under your pillow, bruja—where that porqueria belongs!"

Harlee lay as still as stone, slowing her breathing. A mind was a terrible thing to lose, and little by little, prison life was stealing hers, weakening her mind's grip of reality. Despite his being dead, Stahl still plagued her. Barely moving her lips, she implored, "Just go. Please."

"I'd sooner have you fill me full of holes all over again," mind-conjured Robert insisted. "You need me. You said it yourself. Remember? I hoped to save you. You're getting there. My work's not done. Oh, no. Not by a long shot." His lips brushed the side of her head. His handsome features shone in the dark.

Unable to stop herself, Harlee whimpered like an overtired young child. Mind-conceived Stahl forged on, "For as long as you need to be here, I'll be here too. Here for you. Here to help you get through this. When you're lonely, tired, at the end of your rope, you've got me, Harlee. We'll come out of this together. We've got this connection. Like I told you. We'll always have it. That's my vow to you."

When Harlee spoke, it was as if she'd taken a crash course in ventriloquism. Her lips not moving, she tentatively capitulated, "Because of what I confessed? That you got me to see the light. You got into my head. Believed I could turn my life around. Obsessed until you—"

"Deluded myself, thinking I knew better. Knew best what would save you. Drove myself to see you as an object, not an actual person. Let the madness take me, sacrificing you. I craved controlling you. In every sense. Even the perverse. That was my downfall. My disease that consumed me. Christina was right. None of this was your fault. It was all mine, what I forced you to do…to save me. Yes. You saved me by what you did."

"Robert…" Harlee answered, not making a sound. Tears overwhelmed her eyes and they silently fell. "I'm sorry…so sorry. Please, forgive me."

"Nothing to forgive. Something to be strong for. The love I feel for you, that was never dirty, foul, sordid. It is as pure as your heart, mi cielo…" There was silence that lasted long enough for Harlee to stop being as sad as she'd been the last couple of days. She'd find peace, leading a life of purpose and contentment, no matter what she chose to do with the rest of her life.

"Robert…" she began, gathering courage from what she was about to admit. "I could've loved you."

"And you always will. As I will always love you. You are strong, bound to be stronger still. And you will…with me by your side. Forever. Querida, mi amor real."

"Thank you for risking it all…to save me."

Eventually, Harlee fell asleep, slept soundly, cocooned in warmth and protection. And she dreamed, fearless, secure in the knowledge that because of one man's twisted fascination and love for her, she would survive.

The End