Hank
When Hank heard the lock on the door click open, his entire body tensed automatically, sending fresh waves of pain through his ribs. He fully expected to see a group of guards led by Butler, or maybe Bull and some of the bigger members of the Knights. Either way, he'd be severely outnumbered, and in his weakened condition, he probably wouldn't last long before they cut his wrists or strung him up so he'd look like just another suicide in the hole.
Well, fine. Let them come. He'd fight them to his last breath, and at least it would all be over soon.
As the door opened, Hank thought his mind must be playing tricks on him again. Beth was standing there, framed in the pale light from the corridor like some kind of angel. She was carrying a brown paper bag, and the smells coming from it made his stomach do backflips.
“Is it really you?” he croaked through parched lips.
“It's me,” Beth answered, crouching down next to him and opening the bag. She withdrew a styrofoam clamshell and opened it, revealing a greasy pile of fried eggs and sausage patties. Then she handed it to him, along with a plastic fork. “Here, eat up. I know how they 'feed' the inmates down here.”
Hank desperately wanted to hold Beth and kiss her, but the needs of his body rudely jostled these impulses out of the way. He grabbed the fork and dug into the food, wolfing it down.
“Try to go slow,” she said softly. “You'll make yourself sick.”
“How did you get in here?” Hank asked between bites. “If Butler finds out—”
“He won't. I took care of it. Besides, I've got something on Butler. Maybe even something big enough to help us get out of here.”
Hank finished the food, wiping his mouth on his forearm and looking at her. First Beth shows up with food, then she talks about a plan for both of them to leave Bluebonnet?
He leaned forward, touching her shoulder with his index finger.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Gotta make sure you're really you. Being down here...it does stuff to your thoughts sometimes. You see, hear, even smell things that aren't there.”
Beth took Hank's face in her hands gently and kissed him. The taste of her lips was sweeter than the food had been. They were real, but somehow, they also seemed better than real, like a fairy tale spell conjured from pure sunlight. The walls around him seemed to withdraw, letting in fresh air, big skies, freedom...everything from the outside he'd almost stopped believing in.
“I told you, I'm real,” Beth said. “And yes, I think I've got half a plan to break you out of here so we can be together, far away from this hellhole. But first, there's something I need to tell you.”
Hank braced himself. He knew this would end up being some cruel trap of the mind, with hope as the bait. As soon as he reached for it, it would spring shut on him, snapping his sanity in half. The lovely mirage of her would fade, replaced by thin air—or worse, Butler.
“I'm pregnant. And it's yours.”
Hank stared at her with his mouth open, trying to process these words. They were literally the last thing he'd expected to hear, and now they echoed in the space between them.
“Knowing that, do you...think we could still have a future together?” she asked quietly.
Suddenly, a cyclone of images whirled through Hank's mind, making him dizzy. He thought of waking up next to Beth every day for the rest of his life, in a real bed, with the rays from the morning sun streaming in through the window. He thought about the joy of holding a baby in his arms again, comforting it when it cried, playing with it as it laughed. He thought about everything he'd wanted for Jason—the best, safest, happiest life a child could possibly have—and he thought about being able to make those plans again. To see them through this time.
Another chance to love a kid again, completely and unconditionally. Another chance at a wife and a happy family. The future that had been stolen from him, returned to him again.
In that moment, he realized that he'd never wanted anything more in his life.
“Yes,” he said. “Of course we can.”
Beth smiled gratefully, tears shimmering at the corners of her eyes. She embraced him, showering his face with kisses until he almost couldn't breathe.
“Easy, easy,” he laughed. “I haven't bathed in days. Now, what's this 'half a plan' you've got?”
“It involves something I heard one of the other guards say. There's a theory that the riot that happened here fifteen years ago was organized as a cover for a couple of inmates to escape. After all, if I tried to get you out of here under normal conditions, about a hundred different people would notice. But if everyone were too busy trying to put down a riot...”
“We could slip out in the confusion.” Hank nodded. “It's a solid plan. But how do we kick off a riot?”
Beth told him what she'd learned about Butler. “Do you think we could use it somehow?”
Hank considered it carefully. “Yeah. Maybe. I think I've got an idea. But first, we'll need one more thing to pull it off.”