A/N: I had to split the epilogue into two parts for *reasons*, part two is 90% done and will be posted tomorrow. :D

WARNING: ANGST

The rain pattered against the glass of the small window that sat up high on the wall. Bars on the outside matched the drab grey cement of the inside. How many days had it been raining now? This monsoon season seemed to be going on much longer than it should be.

Would you have noticed otherwise? From within the cold empty walls of your cell you paid too much attention to the rain. More than you would have on the outside.

You thought you would be prepared for it. But life inside of a prison was different than you had expected in many ways.

It was the noise more than anything. You hadn't expected so much noise surrounding you at all times in here. You'd eventually succumbed to exhaustion and had quickly learned to sleep despite the noise. You had to, to survive. With a high volume of women living in a single complex there wasn't a single moment of silence.

You missed the silence.

Amongst other things.

A sound outside of the bars caught your ear. Boots hitting concrete, echoing through the huge empty space of the center atrium, accentuated by a jingle of keys on each down step.

A guard was coming. They all heard it. Voices quieted down around you as the steps neared, eager to see who the guard sought out.

Your cellmate, an older woman named Elena who never spoke to you outside of short one word commands slurred in a heavy accent, rolled over in her bed and eyed the bars.

The steps stopped in front of your cell and you sat up quickly.

Elena rolled back toward the wall. She'd never been called out once since arriving two months after you did. Everyone knew it was visiting hours now and Elena never got visitors. You heard from other inmates that all of her family was in another country.

Your name echoed through the space between the bars in that same gruff tone this guard always used. She couldn't show softness here. You'd expected that much.

“Your lawyer is here.” The guard said in clipped words as she opened the doors, eyeing Elena on the bed as she tightened the chains around your hands and feet.

Only one visitor per day. If your lawyer was here, he couldn't come.

The chains were heavy. They left marks on your wrists and the ones on your legs made you take small shuffling steps as their movement prohibited your legs from walking at a normal pace. That never stopped some of the guards from tugging you along roughly when you didn't go fast enough.

You'd expected the roughness.

This guard, the one the inmates called Jo, didn't pull you. She merely held onto your arm lightly and walked alongside of you as you made your way down the corridor. You had a feeling about Jo. Something about her was sweet, under the forced roughness. You were certain, had you two met under different circumstances you would have been friends. Cells lined the walkway and you were mostly ignored except for the occasional comment hurled your way. Inquiries about where you were going. Shouts about the cop killer getting a visitor again.

The other inmates knew of your crime.

Everyone knew of your crime. The death of a beloved, and decorated police officer by his jilted ex lover with his own gun--you were a legend in these walls. As the details of the case began to emerge the media caught wind. A whirlwind of press and lawyers and charges and allegations. Reporters stationed outside of the courthouse during the arraignment. Angry protesters demanding your head. Demanding your life for his. Demanding retribution. Bond was denied by a judge who was up for re-election soon. Public opinion counted and he was weak to it. Charges were upgraded from Manslaughter to First Degree Murder by the DA who faced great pressures from the public. From the police force. All demanding justice.

Justice.

The word soured in the back of your throat as the image of blood pooling behind Kangwoo's body flashed in your mind. With the upgraded charges you now faced a life sentence. That, you hadn't expected. With self defense you thought at worst, 15 years, but life? A lifetime in here? The rest of your life for Kangwoo's life.

Justice.

Jo stopped walking in front of the door where a lock was opened that required two guards working together to unlock the door.

On the other side of that door, another small space with another door.

Doors and locks.

This had been your reality for --- how long had it been now?

You nervously rubbed a hand over your stomach, feeling your nerves acting up and fluttering around.

4 months.

4 long months of planning and working on your defense with your lawyer.

You'd been surprised when the law firm with the fancy sounding name approached you and offered to defend you of your charges. You'd been dealing with a rather disinterested public defender for the first two months after the arrest but when the news caught wind of your reasons for defending yourself, you were suddenly into the hands of a new firm. One with a history of defending women accused of killing their abusers. One with a history of winning such cases.

When you met her for the first time, something in her eyes told you to trust her.

Attorney Park. She was short, stocky, loud and abrasive. She had a fire and passion in her eyes and she was angry.

She was a fighter, she said. Just like you, she said. She'd dealt with her share of s in her time who deserved a bullet in the head, she said.

Rehashing the years of abuse under Kangwoo's hands for the record had been harder than you had expected.

You gave it all to her. Your stories. Your email and passwords, your recordings, the pictures of the bruises with dates and hospital records. The kits that the police refused at the time, claiming insufficient evidence that the attacks were non-consensual. He was your lover after all, they all said. He was their friend. He wouldn't do something like that.

You'd tried your hardest to keep Yixing out of your accounts of the events that night, but Attorney Park was quick. She'd seen the medical examiner’s reports of the struggle. The bruises and lacerations on Kangwoo's face, clearly inflicted before death. When Yixing had been on top of him, hitting him over and over when his rage took over.

You were sure she had been to see Yixing. She hadn't seemed surprised at all to hear of it.

So you told her. You told her how you'd been taking lessons to defend yourself. You'd told her how you were trained to fight, and to survive.

A quick note in her tablet, a quick swipe through her sheets of work and she told you never to speak of your lessons again.

Your defense hinged on an armed attacker uninvited and in your home, a trained police officer out of his jurisdiction, acting out against multiple restraining orders and threatening the life of his ex girlfriend in her home. If you had trained, your hands were now weapons. That changed things. You would be seen as an equal and your chances would slip.

You considered the possibility that Yixing had been the person who sought her out to defend you in the first place. Maybe it was him who contacted her first. You couldn't be sure. You never worked up the nerve to ask. The world outside continued to churn as you sat stuck in limbo. Trapped by your own guilt.

Yixing. Your mind flashed to his face. The serious expression he held on his face when he fought. When he sparred with the other boxers in the ring. The same expression that you saw soften and vanish again and again when he taught you. When he watched you perform the move he'd expected of you and was satisfied with your progress. Your mind drifted down his face. His straight nose. His pink cheeks, flushed from the passion you'd coaxed from him that night. His lips, unimaginably soft and delicate. His tongue, that tasted your skin. Gentle pressure from his fingertips that trailed over your flesh, gripping your hips as he pulled you into him. Not too rough. Just slow enough to drive you mad with desire.

4 months.

How much of a burden had you already been to him? How much more would he suffer because you decided to move into that apartment that just happened to be cheap enough for you to afford. An apartment that just happened to be situated one block away from his boxing gym. And you just happened to walk into that gym that day, demanding he teach you. The upheaval you'd caused in his life was already monumental.

The meeting today was routine. Updating you on motions filed by the prosecution. She gave you accounts and articles and statements. Things that didn't surprise you anymore.

“The sooner you tell him, the better.” Attorney Park was packing up her notes and her tablet when her voice broke through the comfortable rare bit of silence you had settled into. You didn't respond. She never expected you to. You simply nodded your head as you were led out of the room back to your cell.

You would tell him tomorrow.

He was right on time. As always. Jo led you down the corridor to the visiting area. Different from the room where lawyers met, this room had a row of chairs that faced a wall with hazy scratched up glass windows. Each gave the illusion of privacy with short partitions. A phone on each side of the glass.

Prisoners were sat down in each seat, you took the next in line and you waited as visitors shuffled through the doors.

You saw small children, too young to understand why the woman on the other side of the glass couldn't just come home with them. Men and women who looked worn and weary. Stressed by whatever situation their beloved had found themselves in.

When you saw his face all others vanished.

“Ayy, Papi! If I had a y man like that, I wouldn't have gotten myself locked up in this place.” You heard one of the inmates at the end calling out followed by hoots of laughter.

“Who knew you gotta kill a cop to get a man that fine?” Another called out as Yixing made his way to sit down in front of your seat.

You didn't respond to any of it. Responding only made it worse. Yixing was picking up the phone as he smiled at you, flashing that deep dimple that made your stomach flutter. You lifted the phone on your side and returned the smile.

“Hey beautiful,” his voice rang through the line. Muffled by the crappy connection and filtered through what you were sure was recording software to keep track of the conversations held here.

“Hi Yixing.” You smiled at his pretty face. Visits were limited to 30 minutes and you usually preferred to listen to his voice as he told you about his day. He talked about Baozhi and the gym. Told you stories about the matches he'd had. Matches he'd won. He usually didn't talk much about the trial or the bad press stories about you, even though you had access to some news and you knew the things they were saying about you. You heard plenty from the other inmates too. You were sure he was just sparing you the pain of it.

Today he was talking about Baozhi. Apparently the kid had passed his high school equivalency exam and had earned his degree. Something you knew he'd been working hard on for a while. Your smile was wide and genuine as your heart swelled with pride.

“He wrote you a letter too. I've left it with the guards. I also put more money in your account for snacks and necessities. Phone cards too, you should