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All that he does - *every single thing* - is about Toby.
It's all for Toby, because of Toby. Because Chris is in love with him. He doesn't know how it happened, when it happened, it just did. Chris tried to fight it, tried to tell himself it didn't mean dick, that it was just physical and would pass once he fucked him, but when it finally happened, when he finally pushed his cock up Beecher's ass, Chris had already been long lost. This love had choked him, had crashed him, but at the same time set him free. Lying with Beecher in his arms, for the first time in his life, Chris Keller had found that long-searched, long-craved peace of mind.
All would be pretty, but they were in Oz. Affection, friendship - prison had no place for such things. Emotions got wiped away by the sheer necessity to survive. Get rid of any weaknesses so they couldn't use it against you. Get an ally. He doesn't have to like you, he just gotta respect you. These are the rules you need to learn. Or, you're gonna get hurt.
Chris had known those rules all along. He had known them and played by them, and he had been respected. Had nothing to lose, no one to take care of, beside himself.
Up until Toby.
Smart, educated, sexy as hell in an unconscious kind of way, damn beautiful twisted fucker, and Chris fell hard. He fell so hard he forgot about the rules and by doing so, he exposed himself to hurt. And he had gotten hurt, alright. He had gotten cut down to the bone, deep and raw. By Toby. Because love hurts like bitch, and he had been caught off guard.
Toby had become his priority. His weakness. And certain people, they immediately used it against him.
He had lost Toby, worked hard and got him back, then lost him again. Now Toby keeps fucking with him, with his head, his heart. Trying to make him hurt and jealous, and he's damn well succeeding on all fronts.
He should've known better than that, though, if he thought Chris would stay passive, watching from his pod all of those guys play with what wasn't theirs. Chris did pass Toby to Mondo, true, but it was dictated by pain and anguish and disappointment caused by Toby's lack of trust. Toby should know that. Should know that he belonged to Chris no matter what either of them did, triggered by circumstances. If it would remind Toby of that, Chris was ready to take as bloody steps as were needed. He had already offed that bitch Shemin, and Mondo Browne, for not having known better. So Toby has got to realize if he keeps fucking Ronnie, the guy's gonna end up as cold, regardless of the fact he and Chris are buddies.
Friends, enemies - in Oz, there's no difference. It's a whole lot of them in here, and every day they can shank you in the back when you ain't looking.
But with Toby, it's different. He's more than a friend, more than an enemy. He's all that counts, the rest don't fuckng matter. If he hadn't learnt it by now, Chris would teach him.
*
Ronnie Barlog is sucking him off in earnest and Chris can't help thinking that it's still some time to change the plan, that with Barlog, it could all be so simple. No fucking dramas, no broken hearts and bones, no jealousy. No confusion. Besides, Ronnie is hot. Exactly Chris's type. Not too smart and thus pretty easy to manipulate, but not too dumb either. It would all be about easy sex and comfortable companionship.
"You know, sometimes I think I killed all those guys 'cause I wanted to kill the part of me I despise," he says. Pleasure courses through his body, washing over him in powerful waves, one after the other. He gets no comment on his statement, just the continuing, wet sound of sucking. Chris starts breathing harder, his orgasm nearing. It feels so fucking good. But that's all it is. Blowjob.
He reaches down and snaps Barlog's neck.
*
So far, so good. Nobody's suspecting anything and Chris thinks that maybe, this is it. That they can move past all that shit now, that he can focus on Toby, starting with attempting to persuade him to let Chris back into his pod.
But it ain't that easy, of course.
Toby is smart. He knows it was Chris who killed Barlog and he isn't happy about it. Well, Chris wasn't happy about killing him either, but that's what needed to be done. So Chris would live. So he could get back with Toby.
And that's what's it's really about, all of it. Being with Toby, no matter what. Eliminating any obstacles - things, people, it don't matter. Getting Toby back is what matters.
Chris watches him make his way towards the TV area and sit down, putting the earphones on. They watch 'Up Your Ante!', trying to guess the answers. Toby gives them without hesitation, briefly after the question appears, and they all snort at him, jealous fucking dumbs. Chris loves that about Toby, that he's so fucking smart. Turns Chris on in a twisted kind of way, he can't really explain it. Maybe it's about the fact that an educated guy like Toby would want him. 'Cause he still does, Chris knows that he does. He can see it in his eyes, in the language of his body, even in the way Beecher pushes him away. These are the rules of their game. They both want nothing else than to be with each other, and so they fuck with one another all the more.
Chris is beginning to get tired of the game though, devastated by constant anger and jealousy that's eating away at him. He just wants to be allowed to touch Toby anytime he wants, to be with him, simply be with him. He craves the routine so much it's almost pathetic. He'd love to just lay down and hold Toby, then get up and shave, and catch Toby's eyes in the mirror, watching him without hate, without anger, but with that soft tenderness he saw on the last New Year's Eve. It gave him the kick, the hugest fuckin' high he ever got, and when they kissed afterwards, Chris knew there was no other place he'd rather be, no one else he'd rather be with.
He gets up and walks over there, his eyes on Beecher till the last second before he reaches him. Then he shifts his gaze away and fixes it on the screen, taking a seat next to Toby, settling himself comfortably. He stretches his long limbs, letting his thigh press into Beecher's. He feels the other man tense slightly, but he doesn't let him know he noticed his reaction, he just proceeds to watch the TV casually.
That small part they touch, that small part where they make contact, is all they are able to think about.
"What is the part of the brain called Wernicke's area responsible for?" Gordon Elliot asks as the game continues.
"What the fuck?" Hoyt frowns.
On the TV Carpenter is apparently having a hard time answering. Pancamo chuckles. "Guess even fucking Beecher don't know the answer to that one."
Toby purses his lips in a half-smug, half-derisive manner. "That would be speech comprehension," he says casually.
On the TV Carpenter says 'speech production' and Elliot clears, "I'm afraid it's speech comprehension. But you were close."
Chris drops his eyes and smiles as the huffs around proceed. Fucking amazing is what Toby is. Fucking amazing, fucking *hot*-- he tilts his head, risking a look at his ex-lover. He's slumping slightly in his chair, arms folded across his chest, eyes on the screen. *Christ, just to reach out and touch you, baby, just...* Chris shakes his head. Too much, too soon. If he tried that now, he'd lose his hand and probably much more in advance.
"Beecher, you're like a fuckin' walkin' encyclopedia, man," O'Reily shakes his head.
"Yeah, bet you got the annual fuckin' scholarship back at fuckin' Harvard," Pancamo comments. "It's always rich little pricks like you that get it."
"Hey," Keller half-turns to him, that smooth, dangerous smile curving his lips. "Just 'cause he's smart and you're dumb doesn't mean you have to go public with your *little* inferiority complex, you know."
O'Reily who is sitting nearby rolls his eyes. All the rest seems to tense up just a little bit. Beecher turns to stare at Keller hard, but Keller's eyes are temporarily fixed on the Italians' leader.
"What's inferiority complex?" Cyril asks innocently, not noting the general tension.
"Shut up, Cyril," O'Reily hisses at his brother.
Pancamo's eyes are locked on Keller darkly. "That actually sounds a bit odd, you know, comin' from *you*, Keller," he shoots back. Keller doesn't even blink. Pancamo grins. "As for the inferiority complex, guess no one knew it better than your girlfriend here while gettin' it in the ass from Vern."
Keller's muscles strain, but Toby's hand rests heavily on his forearm and he relaxes, eyes shifting to Toby's.
"Stay the fuck out of this," Beecher says coldly.
Keller winces inwardly at his harsh tone, but doesn't give it away. He smiles in his usual manner. "Yeah whatever, Beecher," he answers smoothly. He stands up and stalks away, his movements only slightly more tense than usually. Toby settles back into his chair, eyes fixing on the TV.
"You know," O'Reily leans towards him. "The two of you are just *so* fucked up."
Toby ignors him. He keeps watching 'Up Your Ante', his mind universes away.
*
Keller appears surprised as Toby places his tray down and takes a seat next to him.
"Huh. Didn't know we were dinner buddies again," he mocks.
Beecher reaches for his cutlery. "I don't need you to protect me from Pancamo's lame remarks, Keller," he says in a hard tone, not looking at Chris as he starts eating.
Keller shrugs. "I know."
"So, why do you keep doing this?"
"Doin' what?"
Beecher exhales, irritated. "Standing up for me like that. Thought we were on the outs."
Chris just looks at him for a little longer. "Don't you just looove fuckin' deja vu's," he returns to eating.
Of course. They had already had this conversation, right after Shemin's death, if Toby recalls correctly. Chris had said then that he still cared. But what about later, when he passed him to Mondo like Toby was just some worthless slut? Lonely and miserable, he later on proceeded to prove him right; he sure was a slut. But, he also could take care of himself. He didn't need Keller any more. He didn't.
"Whatever. I want you to save your snappy retorts to yourself, next time."
"Fine by me. I might've actually agreed with him there on one thing, anyway. You *are* a little prick, you know." That earns him an annoyed huff on Toby's part, one that turns him on every time, regardless of the terms they are temporarily on.
"Fuck you," Beecher says.
"That we can arrange in no time, babe," Keller answers. He reaches for the apple and takes a bite out of it, before leaning in next to Toby's ear. "Let me back into the pod," he adds, voice dropping a husky notch.
"Not happening," Beecher shoots back.
"Then I'm leavin' you to your hand and hot little fantasies 'bout me," he grins at him, before taking his tray and standing up. Beecher turns to gaze after him, noting over again the fluid grace he moves with.
Jesus fucking Christ, his own hand isn't enough any more.
Sometimes he thinks that's all the part of his punishment. That him and Chris meeting, it was all arranged not even by Vern, but by some higher force, some powers that be, to fuck up his life the worst way possible. Love should't be like this. It shouldn't be this never satisfied hunger that is anything but pure, this constant aching, that need that burns through him, that drives him out of his fucking mind. Before they got together he used to think the longing would ease off once he finally touched Keller, once he finally got the taste. But no, it only got stronger. With every touch they shared, he would fall harder and harder until it all spun out of control. People started dying and the two of them, they were dead, too. Burnt from the inside out. Miserable together, but even more miserable apart. There was no way out of this, not ever. From the day one, they just spiralled further and further towards destruction, only fueled by those heated moments together; the things they did because of each other, for each other, to each other, it wasn't supposed to happen, any of it. But they were unable to stop. Unable to let go. And now, it was too late. Too late to get together, to late to put an end to this. So they kept dancing around each other, fucking up themselves, fucking up everyone around who happened to interfere, willingly or not. That's his punishment, he thinks, this neverending bittersweet ache that is choking him, killing him inside. So close, and yet further than ever, unable to connect, unable to look away. Loving each other, hating each other. By now, it made no difference. Whatever they did, it would only get worse.
Hours later, hands splayed across the dirty glass, they watch each other from the distance, like they do every night. Daring one another to look away.
Neither does.
Around them, EmCity hums with the noises of the night.
*
A few days later they find Hank's body and all hell breaks loose.
Keller's eyes scan the cafeteria, restlessly searching for one face that isn't there. One face he despearately needs to find. His heart's pounding, his chest so tight he thinks it's gonna fucking explode.
He spots Rebadow and makes a beeline for him.
"You seen Beecher? Where's Beecher? The shit is goin' down fast," he mutters breathlessly, his eyes all the time checking around.
Rebadow frowns. "He had a play date with his daughter."
Frustration chokes him. "Goddamn it! I gotta get to him," helpless, he slams his fist down on the table. "How the fuck am I gonna get to him?" he stalks away, the wheels in his head turning furiously.
Gotta get to Toby. Gotta get to him, and fast.
*
They sit in Toby's pod, talking. They called truce, there are other things at stake. Beecher's brother has just been shanked. He's gonna live, but Toby's on the verge of the nervous breakdown.
"You've gotta kill Schillinger," Keller says firmly. It's the only rational way out of this.
But Toby shakes his head. "No."
"What's the alternative?" Keller asks, his voice strained. They shouldn't be even discussing this. The faster they get rid of that Nazi fuck, the better.
Beecher shrugs slightly. "I let him kill me."
Keller practically freezes. "What the hell does that mean?" he asks harshly. Sick premonition begins to coil in his gut.
"If I offer to die, maybe that'll end all this. Maybe he'll let my family be."
Oh, for Christ's-- "And what are you gonna get out of him, a written guarantee?" he snaps at him.
Beecher heaves a resigned sigh. "What are my options?"
That's better. "We pin Hank's murder on someone else," Keller lowers his voice, composing himself once more. They will work this out. He knows they will.
Toby turns to look at him dubiously. "Who?" he asks. "And then what, Schillinger kills that person?" his voice gains on desperation. "No, I've got enough death on my conscience. I've gotta go," he rises abruptly, starts for the door.
Without second thinking, Keller moves up to stop him. "No, Beech, Jesus, come on, just listen to me," his hands grasp Toby's shoulders, trying to ease off some tension. Despite the black despair that's beating down on him he fights for his voice to sound soothing, "Let's just relax, alright? Let's breathe, alright. Think what you're doing, think it through--"
"I have," Toby cuts in. "My family can't hide forever," he pauses, resigned, and looks into Keller's eyes desperately. "If I don't handle this now, Schillinger will destroy them," he mutters, trying to reason with Keller, trying to tell him there's no other way out of it, that that's it, that's over.
But Keller won't have it. "That's what I'm talking about, handling it," he says firmly, shaking Toby's shoulders. "Don't you understand that? All we gotta do is kill Schillinger," *Jesus Christ, Toby, let's just do it, baby. Let's do it and let's forget all that shit. Let's just get this over with.*
But Toby doesn't understand. He's got his own reasons. He sees no hope, no other solution. "And then the Aryans will still kill me," he says, resignation shining through his beautiful, rueful eyes. "And for all I know, Schillinger's unborn grandchild will grow up and find my grandchild and kill him, no!" he slams his hands against Keller's chest. "Chris, this is the only way to do it," he tries to pull free, but Keller isn't letting go.
"Wait, wait, wait, wait." Toby's panting, desperation choking him, but God help him, Chris's arms around him feel so good, so safe. He'd like to just stay in these arms forever and forget about everything else, about all things that are brutal, unfair, painful.
But the reality is what it is. "Chris, let me go," he pushes against Keller, pushes against that fragile, cruel illusion of safety.
"Wait, just wait, wait. Just wait," Keller feels Beecher relax in his arms, just a little bit. He turns his face into Toby's neck, inhaling deeply, his mind going blank for a moment. But only for a moment, and then his brain is working again, calculating their options. He already knows what he has to do. What needs to be done. "Okay," he pulls back slightly, lets himself look at Toby for one last time.
*I love you. I'm doing this for you, baby. All for you.*
He head-butts Beecher and then hits him, knocking him out cold.
*
This all happened so fucking fast Toby's still dazed. Dazed, disoriented and so pained he can't think straight. He's on his way to see Keller. See him for the last time in his life. That's because Keller is being transfered to Massachusetts to serve life sentence for the crime he didn't commit. The crime that is Toby's responsibility.
Funny how things sometimes work out. Funny how sometimes people who care for you take matters into their own hands and all you gotta see is the final result. The result you might not like entirely, but which often makes you realize just how important you are for someone. Which makes you see that the price that had to be paid didn't matter. Which makes you regret all the times you doubted that person and makes you wish that every time you rejected that someone could have been used to say you loved them.
These and other thoughts swirl around in Toby's brain as he moves past the bars behind which Chris and Sister Pete are sitting and talking in low voices. Another idea invades Toby's dizzy mind as his eyes rest on Keller, quite irrelevant: that Chris looks sexy even in the orange prison jumpsuit. Toby frowns and shakes his head at himself, appaled by his own track of thoughts. But he's too occupied with the look on Chris's face to keep up the self-deprication. I seems Chris has strongly reacted to something Sister Pete told him. Toby only hopes it wasn't anything rough. Because right now, all Chris deserves is tenderness. Tenderness and gratitude and fuck, Toby doesn't know how to return such gift - gift of the most unconditional, the most unegoistic devotion. Pure, beautiful gift of Chris's love.
Sister Pete stands up. "You have a couple of minutes."
The first thing they do is hug. Beecher needs Keller close, needs to touch him, hold him, more than anything. He wraps his arms around Chris's broad shoulders and hides his face in Keller's neck, squeezing his eyes shut. God, the way he smells... Beecher inhales, already sick with longing.
"Sorry I can't hug you back," Kelle smiles.
Beecher pulls back, eyes searching Keller's. *How can you smile? They're gonna take you away. Away from me. How can you smile?*
Toby presses his lips together, drops his eyes briefly. *You gotta tell him what he did for you paid off. You gotta tell him.*
"Schillinger believed Cloutier," Toby says. "Thinks I'm innocent. He even shook my hand."
Keller's smile broadens. "You see? And I get a nice trip to Massachusetts, stand trial, serve life in Cedar Junction, far from Schillinger's reach," he says it just like that, casually, like it doesn't mean the end of the two of them, the end of the best thing n Toby's life, the end of the fucking world.
Beecher swallows. "There are Aryans in Massachusetts," he mutters.
Keller keeps smiling. "Half-assed Aryans," he mocks. "Besides, I think I've proven that I'm pretty nimble when it comes to staying alive."
*Yes you have, baby. More times than you should've.*
"Why are you doing this?" Beecher asks softly. He suddenly feels unworthy of such love, such devotion. He doesn't deserve it. He didn't do a damn thing to deserve it.
But Chris is looking at him like he does deserve all of it. And much more. "I would have thought that was fairly obvious."
Ah, Christ-- Beecher wants to weep. Wants to kiss these eyes and every inch of this skin and crawl inside of Keller so they could never separate them. So even the two of them wouldn't be able to tell when one ends and other begins.
And he nods, because that's all he can really do - accept this gift. "Yeah," he whispers. Funny how simple words like that can make you feel both at the top of the world and at the rock bottom at the same time.
"Besides, I love the irony," Keller continues in that soft, melodic tone of his that Toby's come to love so much. "I've gotten away with all of those murders I actually committed and here I am confessin' to the one I'm innocent of."
Toby sighs, anguished. *Oh, baby - I know that. I know all of that. I know--*
"It's time, gentlemen," Sister Pete says.
*What?! Fuck, no. Not yet! Please, please, not yet--* There's so many things Toby wants to tell him. So many things he should've told him before, but didn't have the balls to do so. But as all those things flash through Toby's mind as he looks at Chris now, he realizes it all comes down to three simple words. Three words they have said to each other too many times, and not enough times.
I.
Love.
You.
Time seems to have stopped as they look at each other closely - forgiving, assuring, memorizing. And when Toby thinks it's too much, that he can't take this any moment longer without his heart shattering into hundreds of little pieces - Chris leans forward.
A second before their lips meet, Toby closes his eyes.
*
They're kissing, soft and slow and fuck, it feels so good to have Toby's lips on his own again, he knows it was all worth it. Everything that he did for Toby, confessing to the authorities the crime he never commited, it was all worth this moment, here with Toby. He shifts closer, exhales into Toby's mouth. *Let me in, baby, this one last time. Let me in.*
And he does, he parts his lips for Chris, his warm fingers combing through Keller's hair with the kind of needy tenderness that Chris has never experienced from anyone.
*Jesus fucking Christ, I'm gonna miss you.*
Toby clutches at Chris's shoulders, he's so strong, stronger than Chris has ever been. He's everything Keller has, everything he wants--
*He's not gonna see him ever again.*
Toby traces his lips across Chris's cheek and nuzzles at the side of his neck and Keller keeps his eyes shut tighly, desperately wanting to trap this sensation inside, to memorize Toby's scent, his touch, his love. Toby wraps him up in his arms and Keller wishes he could die right now. So the last memory would be the feel of Toby, touching him like this. 'Cause life without him isn't life. Not any more.
*He's not gonna see him ever again.*
Keller forces himself to pull back slightly and to say, because it's time for lies that are gonna keep them breathing from now on, "I'll see you."
Beecher snorts, that sexy little sound of his, because he knows it's a lie. "When?"
Keller gives him a broad grin, even though longing already chokes him, "Back here. Or in heaven." *Every night in my dreams, baby.*
Another soft huff, "You really think we're gonna get into heaven?"
Keller tilts his head at him. "Ah, you and me together. God doesn't have the balls to keep us out." And he had to tell him this, smiling like that, because that's all they have left now - because they both needed to hear it out loud. Because without it, what else would there be to make them get up every morning?
Chris wants these last seconds together to be a good memory, a treasured memory - without damn useless tears that would blur his vision now that he desperately needs to see Toby clearly. He loves him so fucking much he hates the mere thought of that face ever fading in his memory. He wants to remember Toby looking at him like that, with those soft eyes that say 'You're a goddamn liar and I love you for that and I will never forget the way you felt'.
They're taking his arm and leading him away and he looks over his shoulder at Toby for one last time. His beautiful Ivy Ligue lawyer. His anchor. His redemption.
*The love of his life.*
Toby disappears from his view soon afterwards and Chris turns his head and stares straight ahead.
He only wishes lights go off early in Massachusetts.
-the end-