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Sometimes in Oz the darkness is kind, actually granting sleep and pleasant dreams. Sprawled across the bunk, muscles relaxed in rest, Keller sighs, a contented sound.
Toby's back is a warm expanse. Chris can't stop sliding his hand along all that skin down toward the curve of Toby's ass. There's this incredible warmth that sparks wherever their bodies touch. Chris swears he sees glimpses of sunlight even though he knows they're in the dark. It's that warm.
Such heat in their kisses, heat in the way their cocks glide between their bodies.
"You ready," Toby says.
"Fuck, yeah." Chris lifts his legs and moans as Toby slides into him.
It feels so good. Sunlight really is everywhere.
Keller's eyes open to darkness, unsure as to what woke him. It was probably a hack making his rounds. He shivers. As always, the warmth was only in his mind. Waking is a special type of cruelty.
He stretches and jumps down from the bunk. Another shiver jerks through him, but Keller doesn't bother to put on clothes. Some chills can't be chased away. He presses his forehead against the glass, resuming a standard vigil. There's no sign of Beecher, but that's not surprising. Lately, Beecher only exchanges stares with him early in the evening. He guesses Beecher actually sleeps these days, not that being rested has made him less cranky.
Keller smirks. He can't help pushing Beecher's buttons. It's so easy. Besides, a pissed off Toby is fucking sexy. The smirk fades. As much as he enjoys this mutual taunting, it's gone on longer than he expected.
Beecher's sharp, so surely he gets it, that no matter what Keller said, he still cares, always will care. But if Beecher gets it, why are they still fighting? Keller's jaw tightens. Maybe Beecher hasn't understood. No, it's obvious.
"You always got to make things difficult, don't ya, Beech," Keller whispers. He turns from the door and climbs back into his bunk, hoping sleep will bring warmth again.
*~*~*~*~*~*~
He's living Groundhog Day, the x-rated version of the movie, of course—extra violence, depression and nudity, all at no extra cost. Sure the price for this movie may be your life, but why worry about such a minor detail? His version of the movie, though, isn't going to end with him waking in bed and saying to Chris, "Let's live here in Oz." Beecher snorts at the thought. No, his version is going to remain this endless cycle of monotonous frustration and misery, because Keller seems content to have things this way. The bastard can't forgive, and neither of them can let go, so they're stuck in this vicious orbit.
Sometimes when Beecher wakes in the middle of the night, the yearning for Chris is so strong that his body shakes like a junkie in withdrawal. He knows if he gets up, he can at least get a glimpse of Chris, take the edge off, but lately he's been refusing himself that moment of relief. It doesn't help in the long run, and why give Keller the satisfaction of knowing Beecher is going to continue to participate in his fucked up game of torment. At the very least he can inflict on Keller a few moments of doubt.
As he walks through Em City, new podmate, Ronnie Barlog, in tow, Beecher reflects on how tired he is of all this shit. Last thing he wants to be doing is playing welcome wagon for his new roomie.
"Holy shit. Holy fucking shit, Keller, man." Barlog breaks away and heads toward Keller.
"Look at this motherfucker. Hey man, how are you doing?"
As Keller gives Barlog a hug, Beecher knows his Groundhog Day has finally come to an end. Hello, new morning! Mentally he's dancing with glee, as he moves closer to Keller and says, "He's cute. Does he like to fool around?" Oh God, the look on Keller's face is truly priceless. It's a nice feeling to turn the torment around. After all they do say—all is fair in love and war.
That night, after lights out, it's so very easy to convince Ronnie to fool around. It's even easier to wrap his lips around Ronnie's cock, because despite the recipient, this blow job is all about Keller. All the tricks he learned from the mouth and hands of the master, Beecher uses to make Ronnie pant and beg.
Knowing he's doing exactly what Keller would do turns Beecher on. By the time Ronnie comes, Beecher is so hard he can think of nothing except stroking his own cock while imagining Keller's mouth. When he comes, he has to clamp his lips closed to keep from moaning, "Chris."
Later, he sprawls on his bunk in satisfied lassitude. He doesn't need to look to be sure Keller's watching. Of course he is. He'll spend hours peering down, trying to see what Beecher is doing with his old buddy Ronnie. Let him.
Enjoy your night, Keller, Beecher thinks. Because I really enjoyed mine.
With a smile he closes his eyes and falls asleep, momentarily at peace.
*~*~*~*~*~*~
Stealing Ronnie from Beecher was barely a challenge. Keller isn't blind. He knows Ronnie has always been a bit infatuated with him. A few shared confidences and one hell of a kiss, and Beecher became a footnote in Ronnie's history. Seeing Beecher's satisfied expression turn to a scowl of frustration helped cool his rage.
Still, some anger lingers because he doesn't really want to screw Ronnie over. Sure in the past he may have used the knowledge of his friend's desire to cajole him into working some ponzi. An arm throw across shoulders, an easy grin, made the plan seem that much sweeter. But that's how the game is played. While Ronnie isn't the brightest guy, he follows instructions well, and he's damn loyal, and that goes a long way as far as Keller is concerned. He likes the guy, and it pisses him off that Beecher's forced his hand. As always, he did what he had to do.
Sitting on the floor with Ronnie's head in his lap, Keller thinks at this point he's more tired than angry, so incredibly tired. It's not the tired he should feel right now, that satiated peace that follows sex. Instead, it's a crushing exhaustion, which leaves his muscles tense and aching. He runs his fingers through Ronnie's hair. This is all wrong.
"I, uh, think about it a lot," Ronnie says.
Keller sighs. Ronnie likes to talk after sex. It's a trait he shares with Beecher. "What's it?"
"What I could have done to save you."
"Ronnie, has fucking made you dumb?" Keller laughs. "I don't need saving. Remember the goal was always to help some rich bastard out of his savings."
"I remember that night you came to me, and you were so fucked up man. Talking fast, hands shaking. I thought at first you were coming down from something, but then I looked into your eyes, and just...."
Keller freezes, his stomach muscles feel like they've been wrapped in lead. "What did you see in my eyes that night?"
"Something dark. Scared the fuck out of me." Ronnie reaches up and touches Keller's cheek. "I should have realized you weren't yourself and made you stay. I dunno. I could have done something to keep you from spiraling out of control."
He leans away from Ronnie's touch—it burns—and resists the urge to shove Ronnie off his lap. "I don't need a keeper. Nothing you could have done. I guess this was my destiny."
"Hell of a destiny."
Keller gives Ronnie's shoulder a shove. "Come on, someone is going to start missing us soon."
Ronnie moves off Keller's lap and quickly gets to his feet. "Hey, Chris, man, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, aw fuck. I just wanted you to know."
"You got nothing to be sorry for, Ronnie." Keller stands and gives Ronnie's arm a light squeeze. "But the past is done. It ain't worth revisiting. Live for today, right?"
"Right, sure Chris." Ronnie nods, looking awkward.
Christ, now he feels even more tired. "Come on, let's go."
Keller leaves the supply closet first. He's barely gone five feet before he runs into Beecher. His heart begins to pound, adrenaline urging action. He wants to kiss Toby and say, "let's fucking stop this," but he can't bring himself to move. All he can do is stare and pray Toby understands what he's unable to say.
He should know by now prayer is pointless.
Toby shakes his head and snorts. "Cheap screw in the afternoon, Keller? You should ask the warden if you can teach a class on how to fuck a good buddy over in less than 10 minutes. It's definitely an area at which you excel."
Keller smirks. "You oughta know. Maybe you can teach it with me. You ain't so bad yourself, Beech."
"Whatever makes you happy." Beecher gives him a long look and then walks away.
How do you not know? Keller wants to scream. It's you. It's always you that makes me fucking insane. You make me everything.
A hand on his shoulder makes him jump, fists clenched and ready to swing.
"Hey, Chris, man. It's just me."
Ronnie's voice is soft, comforting, and for a second it triggers memories of a night he's tried so hard to forget.
Lightning crashes. Thunder rumbles, growing ever closer, as if God is warning him of his impending doom. With shaking hands, he wipes water from his eyes. His hair is soaked. He spent what seemed like hours running in that torrential downpour, but there is no escape.
So he's here in Ronnie's apartment, even though he knows the other man can't help him. No one can.
Ronnie tried so hard to be there for him that night, but it wasn't enough. He's been on the fast road to hell ever since then. Shit, maybe he's be on the road to hell since the day he was born, but at least before that night, the road still had a few exit signs. Now there's no way off.
Keller stops that line of thinking. The past is the fucking past. He gives Ronnie a tight smile. "I'll see you later," he says and walks off.
He moves through the rest of the day in an exhausted blur that is broken by moments of seemingly sharp clarity, which somehow always involve Beecher and which quickly drown back into the blur. The moment they're locked in for the night, Keller climbs into his bunk and falls asleep.
His fingers tap out a beat into the air as his lips curve in a lazy, sharp grin. "So Bryce, do you want to...."
Bryce laughs, green eyes sparkling. Chris swears he can see every speck of color in his eyes. When he kisses Bryce, he swears he can taste the color as well. The sweat on their skin is an exquisite sensation. This is how life should be—color, sound and touch.
The skin beneath his hands is cold, unyielding. There's blood, so much blood, and everything is gray. There's no color in Bryce's eyes. How did this happen?
He turns and the curtains are burning. Fire leaps to the floor, racing a path toward him. His pants catch fire. He's screaming, but Hell has no mercy. The fire reaches his hands and the skin begins to bubble. He tries to clap it out, but there's nothing for him to clap against. What's left of his body falls and falls and falls.
Keller wakes, breathing in shallow gasps. He raises his hands, half expecting to see the flesh falling off of them, but they're fine. Interlacing his fingers, he rests his hands on his chest, and tries to make his mind go blank. He doesn't want to remember that time. He's tried so hard to forget.
It had barely been a week since his second divorce from Bonnie. All he'd wanted was one night free of the thoughts of how he'd once again screwed things up. Keller remembers flying high, picking up Bryce, and some fucking fantastic sex.
Then he woke the following morning next to Bryce's dead body. Blood was all over the room, all over his hands, and he had no clue how any of it could have happened. The rain came down in torrents as he disposed of the body. Afterward, he ran for fuck knows how long until he ended up at Ronnie's apartment. Ronnie tried to calm him down, gave him shit to help him relax.
He also remembers seeing the news reports of two more young men killed, both frequented the same club as he and Bryce. He knows he saw Ronnie a few more times. Then his next memory is waking up under arrest and on the path to Oz.
A part of Keller could never accept that he had killed Bryce. It had to be some sort of setup, but to what purpose? Because why the fuck would he kill a one night stand and do it so brutally? Bryce had just been a good lay. He'd had no reason to kill him.
Still, it's not like he's not capable of that level of rage. Oz shows you what you're capable of, and Christ, he's capable of anything. Keller has never possessed much in the way of impulse control, and Beecher strips away what little control he has. He's tried so many times to meet Beecher in the middle only to watch it all explode. The aftermath hasn't been pretty.
If Oz, Beecher, can strip away his control, maybe the drugs did too. Was Bryce, and perhaps the other men, an outlet for his rage, his failure? Perhaps that's why Toby thought he could order the murder of a child. Maybe when Toby stood behind Keller and looked in the mirror, he saw Keller's true face reflected back—the face of a monster.
*~*~*~*~*~*~
There is absolutely no reason he should care. Keller doesn't deserve his concern, but he can't help it. Keller looks like shit, circles under his eyes and a haunted expression that Beecher can't fathom. While he has no evidence, he's sure Ronnie is somehow the cause. There's something off kilter about the guy, something not right. What he needs is someone to help him find some evidence to take to Keller.
He slides into a seat across from Ryan, who raises an eyebrow and leans back into his chair.
"O'Reily, I need your help."
"Yeah?"
Beecher leans in. "I need you to have someone follow Ronnie Barlog."
Ryan laughs. "No way, man. Whatever fucked-up game you and Keller are playing, I don't want in."
"I can pay."
"You need to find someone who doesn't know what happens when people get in the way of you two." Ryan stands. "Good luck with that."
"Damn it," Beecher says as Ryan walks away.
Later, after lockdown, Beecher swears he catches a smug smile on Ronnie's face. "I take it things are good with you and Keller?"
"Oh yeah, real good. He trusts me, you know. That means a lot."
Beecher gives Ronnie a sharp look. Was that a jab at his losing Keller's trust? He's pretty damn sure it was. Ronnie's not looking at him, though, having turned onto his side. Beecher scowls as he lies down in his bunk. What is this guy up to?
He passes the night switching between pondering Ronnie's possible motives and waking from various dreams where he hears Chris say, "I worked very hard to regain your trust, your love. I thought I had, but this proves that I haven't. I don't, I can't."
By morning, he has a murderous headache. He splashes water on his face, hoping to ease the tightness. Beecher pats his face dry, and as he's moving the towel away, he notices Ronnie by the door of the pod gazing down with a smirk that quickly disappears. When he moves to the door and looks down, he sees Keller, head resting against the glass, making no attempt to look up. Beecher swallows. He wishes he could run his hands along Chris's shoulder blades and ease the obvious tension and exhaustion. The doors slide open for count, and Keller stumbles forward.
Rage makes Beecher clench his hands. Ronnie steps out of the pod beside him, and Beecher says in a sharp whisper, "I don't know what you're up to, but if you hurt him, I will hurt you."
Ronnie gives him a puzzled look. "What the fuck are you talking about? Hey man, calm down. I'm not hurting anyone."
Beecher glares.
Ronnie walks away after count, and as he does, Beecher swears he hears him whisper, "You think Keller needs your protection. That's a laugh. As if you'd be enough to stop me."
Who the hell does this guy think he is? He's going to Keller. Together they'll figure out what Ronnie is up to and take care of it.
He finds Keller in the library, nodding off over a book. When he pulls a chair closer, Keller's eyes jerk open. "Chris we need to talk."
"Oh are we talking? I thought we were trying to fuck with each other."
"Ronnie's up to something."
Keller laughs. "Oh, this should be a good one."
Beecher puts a hand on Keller's thigh and feels a moment of hope when Keller looks down and stares. Maybe touch will remind Chris of the connection they share and make him listen. "Ronnie is not who he seems to be. I don't know what he's up to, but I'm positive it's not going to be good for you. Come on, you can't tell me you haven't noticed something's not right."
"Ah, I get it. You're trying to play the rational but jealous ex-lover. I'm sorry to tell you this Toby, but you threw rational out as believable a long time ago."
"Chris." Beecher removes his hand from Keller's thigh. What was he thinking trying to have a sane conversation with Keller?
"But hey, they say it never hurts to try."
"Fine, forget it. Let Ronnie make you fucking miserable. It's what you deserve." A shake of his head and Beecher stands and leaves. Keller is on his own.
Wrapped up in being furious at Keller, Beecher doesn't notice someone step up behind him. A hard hit to the back of his head makes him fall to the floor. There's a foot on his back and then something covers his nose and mouth. The scent makes him gag. He struggles, suffocating. As the world blurs in and out, he hears a voice, but despite hearing the words clearly, his brain can't register their importance right now. It's too dark to think.
*~*~*~*~*~*~
Keller slams his hand against the pod door. What the hell? It had to be time for morning count. What were the hacks waiting for? If they don't open the fucking door soon, he's going to start throwing his body against it.
Last night had been the longest night in his existence. Beecher hadn't showed for count. He'd seen the hacks talking to Ronnie, but he hadn't been able to catch Ronnie's eye before they shoved them into their cages for the night, nor had Ronnie come to the door once during the evening. Not knowing what's going on with Beecher is killing him.
Once again, Keller slams his hand against the glass. "Come on, open the damn door."
His podmate is pretending nothing unusual is going on, which is good because Keller's not in the mood to talk to anyone who can't give him answers as to Toby's well being.
The lights snap on, count is called, and the doors open.
"About fucking time," Keller says as he steps out. He looks down toward Ronnie, but Ronnie doesn't look up. What the fuck?
As soon as the hacks finish their endless round of number calling, he bolts down the stairs to find Ronnie and get some answers. Except, he can't find Ronnie. He swears he's going to explode when he hears a voice say, "He's in the infirmary."
He turns to find Rebadow standing next to him. "For what?"
"Someone hit him in the head. They found him unconscious right before count last night."
"How do you know this?"
"I overheard Murphy talking to Ronnie Barlog, asking when he'd last seen Tobias."
"Ah, okay. Thanks." Keller starts to leave, but Rebadow stops him.
"Tobias doesn't trust Ronnie Barlog, and neither do I. Be careful. That one is bad news."
"Aren't we all." Odd old man, Keller thinks and heads to the infirmary.
Finally he gets a bit of luck as no one stops him as enters and finds Beecher. Toby's sleeping, a pained, pinched look on his face and a bruise on one cheek.
Yesterday in the library, he shouldn't have been such a jack-ass. So what if Toby was jealous. That was a good thing, and Toby had come to him to talk. He'd just been so tired that he instinctively lashed out.
Beecher's eyes flicker, and Keller smiles at him.
"Mental torment wasn't enough," Beecher says, voice soft.
The comment hits him like a physical blow—his smile fades and his breath comes out in a whoosh. "You think I did this." He takes a step backward.
Beecher reaches out and grabs Keller's hand. "No, my mouth just runs without my brain. Stay, please."
Keller moves closer. Toby's hand feels good in his. "You okay?"
"They're sending me back to Em City later today, so I can't be that bad off. A headache, a few bruises, nothing that won't heal."
"You see who did it?"
Beecher's response isn't immediate. "No. Whoever it was hit me from behind and then used something to knock me out. I didn't see or hear anything."
Keller frowns. He swears Toby is lying, but why? Beecher's thumb caresses the back of his hand, distracting him from his thoughts. It's been so long since Toby touched him like that.
"I'll find out who it was." A possibility has already entered his mind. It's not one he likes, but it makes the most sense. Jealousy can be a powerful emotion.
"We'll find out who it was." Beecher squeezes Keller's hand. "I'll be out in a few hours, and we can look into it together. Okay?"
"Sure, we can do that."
"Keller, save your declarations of love for somewhere else. You're not supposed to be in here, Romeo," Mineo says as he walks toward them.
"I gotta go, Beech." Keller reluctantly releases Beecher's hand. "I was just leaving," he says loudly.
"Chris, no more games. I'm sorry."
Keller smiles. "Me too. It's gonna be all right. I'll see you later."
*~*~*~*~*~*~
Keller thinks he's smart, but he's dumb, blinded by emotion. All he sees is you. You're the perfect catalyst.
Beecher is positive those were the last words he heard before he lost consciousness. It had definitely been Ronnie's voice, but it hadn't been said in his normal "oh gee" cadence. Ronnie's every day persona is one big con. Whatever Barlog's plan is, it's obvious he wants Chris to go off in an unthinking rage, which was why he couldn't tell Chris the truth earlier. No way is he letting Keller walk into whatever trap Barlog has laid out.
The first person he sees as he enters Em City is Ryan. "Hey Beecher, heard someone tried to knock some sense into you." Ryan laughs.
"Very funny, O'Reily. Comedy definitely wasn't a career option for you." He starts to move past Ryan.
"Hold up. I got some info for you on Barlog."
Beecher stops. "What do you know?"
"That Barlog has been meeting regularly with an FBI agent. An agent that's very interested in one Christopher Keller."
"Son of a bitch." Beecher shakes his head and winces as he realizes that wasn't the best idea. He's not sure if the headache is a side effect of whatever Ronnie used to knock him out or of the blow to the head that laid him flat. Regardless, it's not improving his mood. He gives Ryan an appraising look. "I thought you said you didn't want any part of any fucked-up game Keller and I are playing."
Ryan grins. "I don't. That's why I gave K-boy the same info I just gave you."
"You told Keller this! When?"
"An hour maybe two ago. What's the big fucking deal?"
"Because this is exactly what Ronnie wanted—Keller so angry he can't think straight."
"Anyone ever told you you're melodramatic? Relax, I think your boyfriend can handle himself."
Most times, Beecher would have agreed with Ryan, but this time he has the feeling Chris is in way over his head.
*~*~*~*~*~*~
Keller tries to open his eyes, but they feel so heavy. He swallows. Christ, his mouth is dry.
"You always thought you were the smart one, but you're so fucking dumb."
He knows that voice. "Ronnie?"
"With a little money, a little charm, it's so easy to get what you want. You taught me that. A handy bottle of something strong enough to knock someone out. Handcuffs. Anything you fucking want, as long as you have the imagination, the brains to want it. And know what, I've got a whole lot of imagination."
Keller tries to move his hands, but sure enough they're in cuffs. He forces his eyes to open, and he can see Ronnie kneeling between his legs.
"I watched you marry that fat bitch, twice. And moan each time it fell apart. It was always me you'd come to when one of those stupid assed broads divorced you. And I'd say, 'It's alright, man. You don't need them. I got your back.' But did you ever get a clue? No! You never understood that you and I together could have done anything we wanted."
Ronnie stood and kicked Keller's leg before going on with his monologue. "And what did I get for being there for you. Why I'd hear you say to people, 'Ronnie's a good kid, not too bright, but loyal.' You're the fucking stupid one." He leans down and slaps Keller across the face. "Aren't you, Chris?"
"Yes," Keller says. He's only beginning to understand just how incredibly stupid he's been. Beecher warned him. Fuck, Rebadow had warned him. Only he'd been too dumb to realize Ronnie Barlog isn't playing with a full deck.
"We could have done great things together. Instead, you had to keep marrying dumb broads, fuck even dumber college kids, all because you were unwilling to accept who you are and be with me. You should never be afraid of who you are. I'm not. I was so angry when I saw you leave that bar with that kid. I knew it was time to teach you a lesson. Show you who you really are, but then you went and fucked that up too, by robbing a grocery store. Really, how stupid can you get?"
"You killed Bryce to teach me a lesson?" He stares at Ronnie, feeling like he's seeing him for the first time and maybe he is, because even when it crossed his mind that someone might be setting him up, he'd never suspected Ronnie. Shit, he never would have thought Ronnie was even capable of pulling such a thing off. He prides himself on being able to read people, but he royally fucked this one up.
"It wasn't the first. It won't be the last." Ronnie leaned down and ran his hands through Keller's hair. "You were already passed out, so it wasn't hard to keep you that way, while I had little fun with Bryce, and oh man, was it fun."
"You sick fucking bastard." Keller glared, as he tried to work his hands free from the cuffs.
"Oh Chris, don't look like that. They don't matter. You should understand that. You, me, we're better than most of the world."
"You and I are pieces of shit, Ronnie."
"Well, maybe you are, but I'm not. I was wrong about you Chris. You're just not worth it." Ronnie slid a hand down Keller's arm, a gentle caress that became a pinching grip when it reached the wrist. "No fucking way are you getting out of those cuffs, but feel free to keep trying."
"What are you going to do?"
Ronnie lets go of Keller's wrist. "Here's how it's going to work. I'm going to torture you and leave you barely alive. Yes, I am that fucking good. Then I'm going to play the dumb con who will do anything to get his sentence shortened routine and give the FBI all the juicy details about that vicious serial killer, Chris Keller. How's that sound?"
"Like trashy fiction." Keller tries to kick out at Ronnie, but Ronnie just laughs and sidesteps.
"Oh but it gets better. Because of course Beecher will try to defend your good name, oh the irony. Man, I bet he was one awful lawyer. When he tries to claim oh no Chris couldn't do that because I luv him, I'll make sure he looks like the pathetic loser he is. Trust me that won't be hard."
Keller struggles against the cuffs, desperately trying to get at Ronnie any way he can.
"You and Beecher were both so stupid." Ronnie smirks looking down at Keller. "Unable to see anything but your merry-go-round of I love him, he loves me not. You see, while most people don't matter, you still have to be aware of them. I ran circles around you, the king of the fucking scams."
Ronnie suddenly stiffens and jerks as an arm comes around his throat. "You're not so bright after all, Ronnie," Beecher says as he twists the shank in deeper. "You were too fucking stupid to block the door."
"Chris. Are you okay?" Beecher asks as he lets Ronnie's body fall to the floor.
"Yeah, get me out of these cuffs."
Beecher kneels beside Ronnie and begins to search for the key, pausing to check for a pulse. "He's dead."
"Fuck. Toby, you shouldn't have come here."
"Yes, because you had things so under control on your own." Beecher steps behind Keller and unlocks the cuffs. "I did what I had to do."
"Thanks." Keller rubs at his wrists. He wishes his mind was clearer, because he needs to figure out how they're going to spin this situation. A glance at Beecher and he shakes his head, "Shit, there's blood on your sweatshirt."
Beecher takes it off, folding it carefully so the blood doesn't show. The door opens, and both men freeze.
Ryan enters, barely sparing a glance for the body. "Get the fuck out. Things will be taken care of. Oh and as much as parting is sweet sorrow, stay away from each other for the rest of the day."
Keller breathes a sigh of relief. "I owe you one."
"That you do, K-boy. Now go."
*~*~*~*~*~*~
"So you never saw Barlog once you got out of the infirmary."
"No." Beecher crosses his arms and meets McManus's gaze.
"Rumor has it he was tight with Keller. Maybe they had something more going on. I know you know what I'm getting at Beecher. Do you think he had anything to do with your attack?" McManus leans back in his chair, rocking it.
"I wouldn't know. I told you, I didn't see who attacked me."
McManus sighs. "It's funny. Liam is vouching for Keller's whereabouts. O'Reily for yours. The luck of the Irish seems to be on your side."
Beecher shrugs. He doesn't know why McManus is bothering. He has to know this is an effort in futility. Of course McManus seems to like to spin his wheels in futile efforts.
"From what I've been able to piece together, Ronnie Barlog wasn't a very bright guy, but he was a greedy one who tried to open up his own drug trade. And well someone sent a message. And none of that would have anything to do with you and Keller, not even perhaps one of you letting it slip to the right person what it was he was doing."
"No." Beecher shakes his head. He wonders if on Ronnie's tombstone, they'll inscribe, "not a very bright guy." It would be fitting. He'd argued with Chris about revealing what Ronnie had done, but Chris and Ryan had convinced him that the authorities wouldn't believe it. They have no proof and their word is worthless.
It doesn't seem fair that the families of those young men will never get any closure, but then life isn't fair. Beecher knows the whole thing should bother him more than it does, but the world outside Oz sometimes seems very far away.
"I take it you want to be roommates again." McManus shoves some papers across his desk in obvious dissatisfaction.
"Yes." Beecher figures his chances are best if he keeps his answers short.
"I'm not sure what's worse, the two of you separate or together, but I'm going to grant the request. God help me."
*~*~*~*~*~*~
The lights are barely out before Toby's in the bunk with him. They kiss with too much need—sloppy and heated. Nonetheless, it's wonderful, and Keller can't help thinking that if they could somehow stay touching like this, they'd always understand each other. He's not sure if they're good for each other, bets they aren't, but he knows they need each other. They've got to be better off, less insane, accepting that truth.
Beecher shoves off his boxers and pushes aside the sheet that's draped partially over Keller's hips. "You're such a tease."
"What, I was just resting. It's more comfortable to do that naked. You want me to be comfortable don't ya?"
"Just touch me."
"Ah, that I can do." Keller reaches for Beecher's cock, stroking it as Beecher does the same to his.
Beecher's eyes close and he says, "Chris."
His voice holds far too much desperation. Right now should be about desire, everything else should be forgotten. Keller slows the pace—even strokes and gentle kisses. Toby resists at first, trying to deepen each kisses, but Keller perseveres until he can tell Toby's thrusts are purely from want.
They touch each other, slide against each other, and nothing else matters. Toby comes first, clutching onto Keller's shoulder as he does, but Keller's not far behind. He whispers, "Toby," as he comes, hoping his tone conveys all the things he's never able to make Beecher understand.
Toby partially collapses against him, forehead resting against his chest. It's warm. Keller knows this is their middle ground, never a place for them, just a few moments of perfect understanding. Regardless of what happens between them, those moments are always there beneath the surface. Somehow, they'll always find their way back to the middle ground. They have to because love doesn't understand reason.