Reunited, And It Don't Feel So Good (official version)     Reunited,
And It Don't Feel So Good (official version)

 by Riley Cannon

  

Disclaimers/warnings: Tom Fontana & HBO own them; I only borrow them for
purposes of non-profit smut, angst, and sap. Summary: This started out as
a scene for the volleyball fic Mav and I are doing (see, Mav, I'm talking
about it in the present tense ). It didn't really fit there, however, and
Mav suggested I tinker with it and see what happens since it appears my
ChrisMuse has a few things on his mind -- and anyone with a ChrisMuse in
residence knows what tends to happen when he finally decides to take
center stage. ::sigh:: Thanks to Mav for encouraging me to spin this out
and see just what my ChrisMuse had on his mind, and also for beta work on
it. 

And dedicated to pirl, even though it didn't get done in time for her
birthday.  ~Reunited, And It Don't Feel So Good~ 

Part One 
 With his personal effects and bedding bundled together, Toby followed
Mineo down the stairs, reminded of why musical chairs had never been a
favorite game of his. "Why am I being moved again?" 

"It's just our special way of fucking with you," Mineo replied,
straight-faced. 

There were times Toby could really believe that. 

They crossed the common area, everyone else lounging around playing cards
or watching television, a few -- like Said -- looking over to track his
progress. Toby nodded to Augustus in passing, glad to see him back. His
smile faded as he saw just where Mineo was leading him, experiencing a
rush of very conflicted feelings as they reached the pod door. 

"Home sweet home," Mineo said, adding in a conversational manner, "Your
roomie'll be along soon. We really had to scrape the bottom of the barrel
for this guy." 

"Really?" Oh, joy. What kind of nut job was he getting stuck with this
time? 

"Yeah. Guess talk's gotten around how bunking with you is the kiss of
death," Mineo said, like there was some joke that Toby wasn't getting.
"You might want to try and not get this one killed right off the bat," he
said, still acting like he thought something was a hoot before he went
over to see what Morales and Guerra were doing. 

Toby sighed, looking around his old pod and thinking Mineo wasn't so far
off in a bizarro kind of way. For one brief interlude this tiny room had
felt like his only refuge in this place. The one place he could truly feel
safe, where he had found himself again and discovered love could bloom in
even these barren surroundings. And one podmate had lived to tell the tale
-- well, technically speaking. 

Letting out another deep breath, he set his things on the top bunk, his
gaze roaming over the lower one as he remembered nights spent between
those rough, prison issue sheets. Hot and sweaty, limbs tangled, his skin
burning everywhere Chris touched him and kissed him; drops of sweat
falling from Chris' face to his lips as they stared into each other's
eyes, bodies joined and souls mating just as deeply as they watched each
other come. 

He sucked in air as he leaned against the top bunk, face buried in his
hands. He looked up after another moment, giving his head a shake. What
kind of sense did it make to torture himself like that? That was gone,
over; he and Chris would never touch each other like that again. They
might never even see each other again. The last appeal had fizzled out and
Chris going to the electric chair was looking more and more like an
inevitability. And as much as Toby wanted to scream and carry on about
that, there wasn't a goddamn thing he could do stop it. 

"Breathe...breathe..." he told himself, thinking he could hear Chris'
voice echoing off the walls for a moment. Was Chris haunting him already?
Would that be such a bad thing? he wondered with a wry lift of his lips as
he began setting out his things and making up his bunk. 

He was tucking Chris' letters away in his locker, right beside the ones
from his family and the drawings Holly gave him, when he heard footsteps
approaching and looked around to see who he was going to have to try and
get along with this time -- and for a moment he couldn't remember how to
breathe.  

Sitting on his bunk, back against the wall and a yellow legal pad propped
on his knee, Chris read back over what he'd written, knowing Toby wasn't
going to like it but he was kind of running out of time here and this had
to get done. He tilted his head, thinking he'd heard Sister Pete next door
talking to Cyril. None of his business what she might be telling Cyril to
help him face what was coming. He was willing to bet whatever happened,
Cyril wouldn't put on quite the show Timmy Kirk had when they'd come to
take him off for his lethal injection. Hoyt had gone off acting pretty
cool, like it was no fucking big deal, although it wouldn't surprise Chris
if Jaz had sort of changed his tune when they had actually strapped him in
and flipped the switch. 

Chris hoped he wouldn't carry on like a nutbar when the time came. He had
a feeling the hard part would be that interval between them strapping him
into the chair and feeding him the juice. Sister Pete had told him it was
only a few seconds, but seconds could feel like forever sometimes. He
almost wished Toby could be there with him, for Toby's face to be the last
thing he would ever see in this world. Even if he could ask for that,
though, he never would; Toby didn't need to watch him die. The last thing
he wanted was Toby carrying some memory like that with him when he finally
walked out of this fuckhole. 

"Chris?" 

He looked over at the bars, Sister Pete standing there. It was funny, it
looked like she had tears in her eyes but she was sort of smiling, too.
"What's up, Sister? Cyril okay?" 

"Yes, Chris, he's fine. What are you doing?" 

He got up, tossing the yellow bad on the bed. "Just working on my last
will and testament," he told her, walking over there and not missing the
way she winced when he said that. "Don't they always say you gotta get
your affairs in order?" As affairs went, his didn't amount to much --
mostly just a little money he'd put by and never told the girls about.
Toby would see to it everything got taken care of, though. "Is it okay if
it I give it to you outright to give to Beecher, since it's sort of a
legal document?" She'd been real good about smuggling a few letters back
and forth, after Toby'd gone back to work for her, and he appreciated that
more than he could ever tell her. 

"Chris..." Acting kind of choked up, she touched his hand where it was
resting on the bars, still smiling and crying at the same time as she
looked at him. "You can give it to him yourself -- but I don't think
you'll want to." 

He shook his head, not understanding what she was getting at. "What do you
mean? You get the warden to let Toby come see me?" Christ, he'd give just
about anything for that, just one more glimpse of Toby. If he could look
into his eyes once more, touch him, kiss him one last time, the rest of
this would be a breeze. 

"No. Chris, you're going to see Tobias. You're going back to Em City." 

Okay, he really needed to sit down right about now only the bunk was too
fucking far away. "What do you mean? How--" 

"The State Supreme Court has overturned the death penalty. Your sentence
has been commuted to life without possibility of parole." 

Life...not death. Not right now anyway. And he would think about how life
in prison was kind of a cockeyed reprieve some other time. He could see
Sister Pete was already aware of how that might sound kind of screwy, and
if it had been anyone else springing this news Chris would have been
waiting for the other shoe to drop right about now. She wouldn't yank his
chain, though, not about this, not about Toby. "When does this happen?" he
asked, amazed he could sound so calm and composed when he felt exactly the
opposite. 

"Right now," she said, smiling and stepping back as Lopresti and a couple
other hacks came along to unlock the cell door. 

Maybe he was having a stroke or something because he was having a real
hard time processing what she was telling him. "Right this fucking
minute?" he said, seeking clarification as he gripped the bars, too afraid
to move, too afraid to believe. 

"Yes, Chris, right this minute," she said, a whole lot of sympathy in her
eyes. "Do you need to take some time?" 

"Uh-uh." He shook his head, impatient for Lopresti to get the door
unlocked. "I'm fine." He was going to be fucking fantastic as soon as he
saw Toby. 

"I know you think you are," she said, looking up at him seriously, no bars
separating them now. "Chris, remember what you told me when you first got
back here, about feeling off balance?" 

"I remember." This was different, though, and he just wanted to get on
with it. They were wasting some valuable time here with all this yapping.
"Sister, can we talk about this tomorrow?" 

Giving him an exasperated look, Pete shook her head and sighed. "All
right. I want to see you in my office first thing in the morning, though.
And, Chris, I want you to pace yourself tonight." She rolled her eyes as
he shot her an incredulous look. "Emotionally. It's a lot for you to get
used to -- give yourself the time to do that, all right?" 

"All right," he said, agreeing with her so she'd quit yammering at him and
keeping him from Toby. That was all he needed for his emotional balance,
that was all he'd ever needed.	

"Chris?" All Toby could do for a moment was stare stupidly at him standing
there, right there, so much like the first time they had first lain eyes
on each other that he wanted to produce some loopy rhyme for old time's
sake. All he could get out of his mouth, though, was, "You're here." 

Even without benefit of a crazy rhyme, Chris gave him a dubious look, head
cocked just a bit as he walked on into the pod and dropped his bundle of
personal effects on the bottom bunk. There was a smile in his eyes,
however, as he said, "Nah, you're just imagining me." 

"Don't even joke about that," Toby said, huffing it at him. He had
imagined this, dreamed him so many nights, awakening every time to empty
arms and an ache in his heart. 

He couldn't rely on the evidence of his eyes even as they hungrily roamed
over him. He had to touch, had to feel the pulse of life beneath his
fingertips. Gaze never leaving Chris' face as he crossed the short
distance that separated them, Toby was gratified to see a flicker of
anxiety in those deep blue eyes that belied the casual, 'Yeah, I'm cool,'
pose. Wanting to chase away any twinges of concern, he reached out to him,
offering the comfort of touch. For a moment his fingers hovered there, not
sure where to land, but then they brushed his forearm and glided on up the
sculpted muscle, dancing over the blank ink lines of the tattoo before
curving around the muscle, treasuring the hardness of that muscle, the
warmth of the skin stretched so tight and smooth over it. 

He brought his other hand up as Chris watched him, holding himself so
still. Something fluttered sweetly in Toby's stomach as he touched Chris'
face, watching Chris' eyelashes sweep down and his lips part with a tiny
gasp as if he were savoring every instant, every sensation however slight
it might be. Toby watched, feeling tender and greedy at the same time, as
the strong body shuddered just from him brushing a thumb along Chris'
lips. He felt a tremor run through his own body as his hand slipped around
to cup the nape of Chris' neck and tug him down the infinitesimal fraction
necessary to bring their foreheads together, and only felt able to draw a
deep breath when Chris' arms went around him, holding him tight. And if
anyone came along to break them up he was going to fucking murder them. 

No one did, though, and after a time they moved apart just enough to see
each other's faces, neither of them able to quit touching each other --
and Toby had to smile as Chris frowned and reached to straighten the
collar of his black polo. He closed his eyes for a second and absorbed
that feeling as Chris brushed his fingers back through his hair. "I got a
haircut." 

Chris gave him another doubtful look. "I got my sentence commuted to
life." 

Toby pooched out his lower lip, like he was weighing those two
accomplishments. "Okay," he nodded, "you win." More seriously, searching
his eyes again, he said, "What happened?" 

Chris shrugged. "Sister Pete says they overturned the death penalty." 

Toby frowned over that, wondering why she hadn't said a word to him about
it. "She came to tell you?" 

"Yep -- and not a minute too soon," Chris said with some fervency. 

Unable to suppress a pleased smirk, Toby said, "You were that anxious to
see me, huh?" He'd preen if he knew how. 

"Nah," Chris drawled, "Cyril was drivin' me nuts with his sock puppet is
all," biting back a smile and then letting it turn into a big grin at
Toby's pissy expression. Just before Toby could form a suitably bitchy
response, Chris snagged him close again and whispered, "Yeah, Beech, I was
that anxious to see you. Not getting fried's what you'd call an unexpected
bonus." 

No argument there. Toby wound his arms tight around Chris again, really
feeling like he was hanging on for dear life. "Was it Sister Pete's idea
to put us back together?" he said, kneading the small of Chris' back. 

"I don't know." Chris' voice was muffled against his neck, holding on just
as desperately. "She didn't tell me that." 

Toby bet it had been her idea. And he'd bet it was more for Chris' benefit
than his. Ever since that business with Adam had forcibly opened her eyes
to the reality of poor, sweet, put upon little Tobias he'd gotten the
distinct impression her preferences had shifted slightly to Chris. That
was okay, though. He didn't begrudge Chris having her on his side. It
wasn't like he didn't get to reap the benefits, after all. Maybe he'd even
call his dad and ask him to send her flowers by way of thanks. 

Drawing back just a bit, Chris gave him a serious look, long fingers
brushing back through his hair. "You okay with me being here?" 

Oh for... Toby took a moment to check the coast was clear before reaching
for Chris again, bringing his face close, both hands curved around the
back of his head and fingers pressing into his hair as Toby kissed him,
making a short but sweet job of it. "That answer your question?" he said
as they separated. 

A pleased smile warming those extraordinary eyes, Chris nodded. "Yeah.
'Course," he trailed a finger along Toby's cheek, "I might need a couple
points clarified later on." 

"Mmm, well," Toby managed to insinuate himself closer, hands stroking up
and down Chris' broad back, "my office hours always were flexible." He
kissed the corner of Chris' mouth, swept his tongue along parting lips,
and would have plunged on inside for a nice long consultation -- if Mineo
hadn't pounded on the glass right then. 

"Put your toys away and wash your hands for supper, boys," the hack told
them before moving on. 

Chris sighed and rested his forehead against Toby's as they lightly held
each other by the shoulders. "Who told him he was a comedian?" 

"Christ knows." Toby reluctantly stepped back, drawing his hands slowly
down Chris' arms to clasp his hands for a moment. "I'm glad you're back,"
he said, looking at him very seriously. 

Just as serious, Chris said, "Me, too." 

Toby nodded, solemn, thinking this much mutual accord could only bode
well.  

Part Two 
 Thanks again to Mav for terrific beta work on this, and for insisting
AngstyChris come out to play in the first place. I have to admit to being
somewhat taken aback by his arrival this time, and might have just set
that first draft aside if not for Mav's arm-twisting. 

Any lingering goofs are entirely my property. 

And before anyone asks (well, if anyone was going to): Yes, all the
foreshadowing likely means there will be a sequel sometime down the road. 


Chris had thought it might feel kind of strange to be back but he hadn't
been prepared for just how uncomfortable he was feeling, standing here in
line. He had been alone, or close to it, for so long now and all the noise
and crush of bodies in the cafeteria was a lot to get used to after that
much isolation. The courtroom had been fairly well packed during his
trial, but not on this scale. There hadn't been this racket of voices,
food odors mingling with too many unwashed bodies. He'd felt a lot of
things, sitting there day after day in court, but there hadn't been this
almost overwhelming urge to bolt and run back to the pod. Feeling jittery
and anxious, when someone jostled him from behind, he whipped around to
level a ferocious glare at Agamemnon Busmalis. 

"Oops," Busmalis said, trying to look non-threatening. "Sorry." 

"Chris?" He heard Toby's voice near his ear, felt one of those broad,
square hands pressing against his back. "You okay?" 

"Yeah." He forced himself to relax, drawing some deep breaths into his
lungs as he continued to stare at a fidgety Busmalis. "I'm fine." He was
just kind of keyed up and all, which he guessed was pretty understandable
under the circumstances. Chris glanced at Toby and flashed him a
reassuring smile. It must not have been entirely convincing, though,
because Toby went on looking worried, giving his shoulder a little
squeeze. 

Nodding after another moment, letting out those deep breaths, Chris
thought he felt better, more grounded by the second as he stayed focused
on Toby. This was just the goddamn cafeteria, nothing he hadn't
experienced a thousand times before. Nothing to be freaking out over. "No
problem," he said to Busmalis, annoyed at the way the old guy kept looking
at him like a startled rabbit about to get snarfed by the big bad wolf. 

"Perfectly understandable, Chris," that was Bob Rebadow, the old coot
giving him a thoughtful look as the lined moved forward. "I was jumpier
than a kangaroo with a hotfoot for a long time after I came back from
death row." 

Oh yes, that was helpful. Chris was tempted to compare notes with Rebadow,
though. He was the only one around here who'd been to the same place - and
then some. Chris couldn't even imagine what that had to be like, actually
strapped into the chair and feeling the electricity jolting through your
body when you got your reprieve. 

"Have you heard anything from God?" Busmalis asked as they got up to the
serving area, the question earning him a trio of aggravated looks. "It's a
fair question." 

"What's a fair question?" O'Reily said, plopping big helpings of runny
mashed potatoes onto their trays. "Hey, K-boy, good to see you back." 

"O'Reily," Chris nodded in greeting to his cohort in skullduggery, betting
Ryan's cheerfulness had a lot to do with Cyril sitting over at a table,
showing Hill and Redding his sock puppet. Better them than him. "Good to
be back." 

"I'll bet. And hey, thanks for looking after Cyril for me. He says you
were real nice to him." 

Chris shrugged, feeling uncomfortable again. "I just talked to him once in
a while." And Christ only knew how many brain cells'd been fried by those
conversations. 

"Yeah, even so, I owe you big time." 

"Oh, yeah, you owe me all right," Chris said, giving Ryan a definite look
and then cutting his eyes over to C.O. Claire Howell at her post by one of
the doors. 

Trying to look innocent, Ryan followed his gaze and gave a casual shrug.
"You had more warning than I ever did." 

"Yeah, and you just forgot to mention the part where she turns into a
psycho bitch when you don't give her what she wants," Chris said, keeping
his voice low as Rebadow and Busmalis moved on; he still had a way too
interested audience in Toby, though. 

"Save your sweet-talk for later, ladies," another hack told them. "Keep
the line moving." 

Chris gave Ryan another hard look, letting him know they weren't done
hashing this out yet, and followed Toby over to the table with more of the
Em City crowd. Hill and Redding gave him a nod as he and Toby sat down
across from Rebadow and Busmalis. 

"That boy sure does like his puppet," Burr Redding said with feeling, not
doing a very good job of masking his relief as Cyril introduced Jericho to
Rebadow and Busmalis. 

Chris smiled, letting out another pent-up breath and shooting a sideways
glance at Toby with some surprise as he felt the blond's leg nudging his
under the table. Yeah, he could do this. It was like Sister Pete said, he
just needed to give it some time.  

Toby caught Chris' surprised look and returned a warm smile, bumping their
legs together again for good measure. He was relieved to see Chris
settling down now. For a couple of minutes there he'd thought the other
man was going to blow some kind of gasket, he'd been wound up so tight.
Well, maybe Bob was right and some of that was only to be expected after
such a radical change in circumstances. Hell, hadn't he spent his first
weeks here walking around in a kind of daze, and not just because of
drugs? And he had a few ideas on how to help Chris bleed of some tension
and feel all better tonight, if need be. Toby was really hoping that
necessity would arise. 

Of course every silver lining had to have a cloud here in Oz, and one was
bearing down on them now in the form of Vern Schillinger strolling their
way, several of his boys tagging along. Robson was bringing up the rear,
still carrying that air of a beaten dog eager to regain his master's good
will. 

"Aww," Vern started right in, "look at this - it just does my heart good
to see you two lovebirds back together." He aimed a beatific look their
way, nothing but malice lurking in the depths of his eyes. 

"Hey, Vern," Chris said, sounding unconcerned even though Toby could feel
the tension vibrating through his body again, a match to his own. "Hey, is
it true they had to let you out of solitary so they could fumigate the
place?" 

"Yeah," Toby quickly picked up the cue as Ryan came over, "I heard the
place got infested with lice right after you got there." It probably
wasn't the smartest move in the world, provoking Vern, but the nazi fuck
had been out of solitary for a couple of days now and Toby was getting
tired of being kept in suspense. There was no way retribution would not be
forthcoming for him getting Vern tossed in solitary, and the sooner they
got it over with the better. 

Well, despite all those victim/offender sessions, Toby had never lost the
conviction that this vendetta between them would only be resolved when one
of them was six feet under. All he could hope was that they didn't take
any more innocent bystanders with them in the process. 

"Wow," Chris had a wealth of snarky appreciation in his voice. "So, what,
you got your boys there picking the vermin off you like in those National
Geographic shows on TV?" 

"Hey, yeah," Ryan snapped his fingers, joining right in, "I saw one of
those once. This bunch of baboons were sitting around, picking bugs off
each other's butts and eating them. You know, I always thought you guys
reminded me of something," he finished with a gleefully evil smile at Vern
and his goons. 

Doing a slow burn, Vern leveled a hard at them. "Laugh it up while you
can," he said, the warning inherent in his voice. 

Well, what would Oz be without Vern around, cackling, `I'll get you my
pretties,' at the three of them? All the same, as he watched Vern's
poisonous gaze linger on Chris, Toby felt a shiver run up his spine as he
thought of what form Schillinger's retribution might take this time. 

"So what's up with Robson?" Chris said as the Aryans finally moved off.
"Thought he got kicked out of the Brotherhood," he added, eyeing a forkful
of meatloaf with dubious regard. 

"Watch," Ryan said, and they all looked over as Vern and the others sat
down at a table, some bikers coming over to fill up the remaining spaces
and leave Robson standing there, looking stupid. "Just breaks your heart,
don't it?" 

"So he's still being shunned?" Chris said as Robson looked around, finally
sitting at the only empty spot he could find - over with Tony Masters and
Fiona Zonioni, sitting as far from the latter as possible. 

"Yep. He got fixed up with a new set of gums but they're not taking any
chances," Ryan said. "He's going to have to do something big to be
Schillinger's little sidekick again." 

Ryan didn't sound terribly concerned about that, and Toby wished he could
be as sanguine. It was all too easy for him to imagine the ways and means
Robson might employ to get back in Vern's good graces, for one thing. 

"Hey, Cyril, will you put that fucking puppet away," Ryan told his
brother, earning a mournful look in response - and an unexpected
admonishment from Chris: 

"Let him keep the damned thing, O'Reily. It keeps him happy." 

"Oh, you know that for a fact?" 

"Yeah, O'Reily," Chris told him, sounding pretty definite about it, "I
do." 

Ryan and Toby gave him curious looks, Ryan conceding the point with a
shrug. "Sister Pete said the same thing." 

"So listen to her," Chris said, dipping his fork in the gloppy mashed
potatoes and opting for the green beans instead. He froze in mid-motion,
gaze fixed on something as Ryan tensed up, too. Toby looked around to see
what had caught their attention, spotting Officer Howell coming down the
aisle. As she neared their group, she must have felt Chris and Ryan's
baleful stares fixed on her because she looked over at them, a flicker of
uncertainty passing over her face for an instant before she passed on by
without any remark. Toby wasn't quite sure what that had all been about --
although he had some suspicions -- but if looks really could kill Officer
Howell should have been vaporized on the spot. 

"Anyone care to enlighten me?" he said once she was well out of earshot. 

"'Bout what?" Chris said, deceptively nave and mild. 

"Why you two have it in for Officer Howell?" 

"We need a special reason to have it in for a hack?" Ryan said. 

"For it to feel as personal as this does - yes." He knew Howell was the
one who'd put Chris in the hospital a while back, but Chris had never
explained precisely what had brought that on, and Howell's only statement
had been that Chris had acted up. If he had to take a wild guess, drawing
inferences from the scraps of things he'd already heard about Officer
Howell... "Chris," he scooted around on the bench to look at him, keeping
his voice pitched low so only Chris and Ryan could hear him, "did she
sexually harass you while you were in protective custody?" 

Chris replied with a, "No," that sounded emphatic enough, but somehow Toby
wasn't buying - especially when he and Ryan both looked so guarded and
uncomfortable. He could understand that: tough guys like them didn't get
themselves in situations like that. No, that was the kind of thing that
was only supposed to happen to pussy Harvard Law boys. 

This particular Harvard Law boy knew better than to suggest any remedy so
mundane as a lawsuit. For one thing, the odds were stacked against them
winning, and for another neither of them would want the risk to their
reputations of starting some legal action like that. Well - as he was
always being reminded, they were in Oz, so... "Are you two planning
something?" 

Ryan cast a cool look at Chris, saying, "I don't know. K-boy, were we
planning something?" 

"A fandango, you mean?" Chris replied thoughtfully, a corner of his mouth
lifting with a tiny smile as though the pair of them were sharing some
kind of in-joke. "Maybe." 

Sort of resenting that they had a shared of history of duplicitous dances
that excluded him, Toby figured there was one way to get over that and
said, "Whatever you do, I want in on it." 

Chris gave him an annoyed look. "You don't have any history with her." 

"That's why you need me." He knew Chris wouldn't like it - Ryan was
looking pretty dubious as well - but Toby was prepared to be adamant about
this. And he trusted Chris remembered what he was like when he'd made his
mind up about something. Judging by the look of sour resignation settling
over his features, it looked like that particular realization was already
dawning. "We'll talk about this later," he said, seeing Said and Arif
coming along now, disapproval radiating off them. 

"Beecher." Said gave him a nod by way of acknowledgment, looking torn
between promptly moving on and lingering to have one last shot at saving
him from ruin. 

Deciding to make it easy on Said, Toby cupped the nape of Chris' neck,
caressing lightly, looking at Said and daring him to say anything about
it. "There a problem, Kareem?" he said, well aware Chris was giving him a
puzzled look. 

"You're just hell bent on this path, aren't you?" Said's voice was rich
with outrage. 

"Looks that way, yeah." 

Said's gaze moved to Chris, something almost imploring in his eyes now.
"If you truly cared about him, Keller, you wouldn't let him do this." 

"And if you knew the first thing about him," Chris said, drawing a look of
thoughtful surprise from Toby this time, "you'd know no one makes him do a
damned thing." A slow and seductive smile crept over his face then, and he
gave Said a wink, adding, "And you keep this up, Said, people're gonna get
the idea you're jealous." 

Looking supremely miffed, Said stalked away and Toby sighed and shook his
head as he watched after him. 

"You gonna tell me what that was all about?" Chris said. 

"Later." Toby hated being on the outs with Said, but he hadn't been left
with many choices. And he didn't regret the one he'd made, not for a
moment. "It's okay," he said, smiling at Chris, casually letting his hand
slip under the table to squeeze his leg for a moment, and get him another
bemused look from the other man. "What?" 

Chris just shrugged and shook his head. "Nothing. Guess I've got a few
things left to learn about you." 

"I expect we both do. Might be fun, huh?" he said with a playful smile. 

Chris returned it with just a hint of caution. "Could be, yeah." 

Ryan groaned and rolled his eyes, getting up from the table. "See ya
later. Cyril, come on, you can help me clean up." 

As they were headed out of the cafeteria, Toby aimed a thoughtful look at
where Officer Howell was standing and made a point of heading over there,
catching her eye. There was no time like the present to get the ball
rolling on Operation Claire, after all. 

"Yeah, Beecher, something on your mind?" 

Smiling sweetly and hoping he looked harmless, he said, "I just wanted to
say I really like your perfume, Officer Howell. My wife wore that
fragrance all the time." 

"Yeah? Well that just makes my day, Beecher. Keep moving." 

"All right," he said, mild-mannered as could be. "It's just a nice change
from sweat and testosterone, you know?" he added on a wry note, slanting
his very best scared rabbit look over at Chris - who was unwittingly
helping out a lot by glowering ferociously at him. 

"I said keep moving," she told him and he meekly did as he was told,
following after Chris. 

Once they were out in the corridor, Chris demanded, "What the fuck was
that about?" He underscored the words with a fierce look that would have
sent anyone else scurrying for cover. 

"It's called tactical subterfuge - I think you're familiar with the
concept," Toby said, walking on. "Like you said, she doesn't have any
history with me." 

Chris gave him another grumpy look, warning him, "You keep away from that
bitch." 

Toby paused, giving him a hard look now. "Don't give me orders. And don't
expect me to watch from the sidelines while you and O'Reily go to work on
her." He softened his voice, reaching out to touch Chris' shoulder. "Would
you, if it was me she'd gone after?" 

"That's different," Chris said, looking uncomfortable. 

"No, it isn't it." 

"Toby--" 

"Chris - I'm in this with you, get used to it," he said and walked on,
kind of liking the mystified look on Chris' face, like he wasn't quite
sure what to make of little ol' Toby. It was good to know he could still
keep him on his toes.  

Utterly baffled as to what had gotten into Toby, Chris turned on the
shower, adjusting the water temperature and standing with his face turned
up into the hot spray as it poured over him. The way he remembered it,
Toby had never been comfortable with any kind of public displays, at least
not during that short time they had been together. He could understand
some of that in retrospect, like him just grabbing Toby's crotch that one
time. If he'd ever done anything like the show Toby'd just put on, though,
he'd have gotten shot down just as quick and treated to a pissy earful of
complaints once they got back to the pod. 

This change of attitude wasn't unwelcome, no, just sort of unexpected.
That might happen a lot, actually, and maybe Sister Pete was kind of onto
something there, advising him to take it slow and easy. Because when you
added it up, he and Toby'd spent a whole lot more time apart than they had
ever had together, and as intimate as they had gotten in their letters it
was different to actually speak face to face, deal with each other in the
flesh. 

Speaking of which... He shook water out of his eyes and glanced over
again, making sure that wasn't a mirage standing there, just two
showerheads away, naked and wet as could be. 

Jesus, he was beautiful. That was all Chris could think, standing there
mesmerized as he watched the water sluicing over Toby's lean, hard body.
He watched Toby's hands as they filled with soapy lather, working that
over his chest, gliding lower - and was treated to a teasing, almost wild
smile as Toby caught him looking. The blond didn't say anything, just gave
a long, slow look, tilting his own face up to the water. 

Chris let out a deep breath and tore his eyes away from that appealing
vision, soaping himself and closing his eyes against the water as he let
his mind wander, conjuring up a favorite fantasy. They were alone
somewhere, far away from these prison walls, and they were in the shower
together. Steam was fogging the glass of the shower door as they soaped
and washed each other's bodies. He'd reach for the shampoo bottle, squeeze
some out into the palm of his hand and work it into Toby's golden hair,
kissing his mouth as the shampoo was rinsed away. They would press
together, slick with soap and water, arms twined around each other as they
kissed. He would trail a slow line of kisses all along Toby's body, from
the tip of his adorable nose right on down to his cock. And kneeling there
on the tile, he'd take Toby's cock in his mouth and suck him, suck him
while the blond pulled at his hair and gripped his shoulders hard enough
to leave bruises-- 

A soft chuckle brought him out of his daydream and he shook his head to
clear it as Toby said, "Are we thinking happy thoughts over there?" 

Fuck. 

Chris adjusted the water temperature again, hoping the cold water beating
down on him would help chase off his erection before anyone else came
along to notice. 

Christ - how much longer was it until lights out?  

Part Three 
 If Toby really thought Chris was going to let him take part in any kind
of plan to get back at that bitch Howell then he must have ridden the
special bus to Harvard. He would need to give it some thought, but there
had to be a way of diverting Toby's attention elsewhere -- like acing his
parole the next time around. Maybe Toby thought he owed him some kind of
big gesture like that, because of how he'd tried to take the fall for Hank
Schillinger? 

Chris thought about that, watching the golden head bent so intently over
the chessboard set up between them. That would be like Toby, wanting to
clear all his debts here before he walked away and left Oz behind him. Not
that Toby did owe him one damned thing. He was the one with the debt that
could never be paid off, not with anything short of his life anyway.
Still, Toby was like that, seeing an obligation where none really existed.


He watched Toby make his move, putting a knight in place and then sitting
back, looking pleased with himself. "Your turn." 

Chris nodded and leaned over the board, pretending to study it. His
thoughts were on what Said had told him about letting Toby be if he really
cared for him. He hated to admit it, but there was something to that. If
he'd been stronger that one time, if he'd kept the vow he'd made -- Toby's
blood staining his shirt, his hands, praying to God to save Toby's life
and he'd never bother him again -- maybe none of this would have happened
and Toby would be safe and sound back at home right this minute. That had
looked like some kind of miracle to him, though, Toby wanting back with
him, and he just couldn't turn his back and walk away. 

He sighed, shaking his head over the board, just pushing a pawn forward at
random before he settled back on his bunk, propped up on his elbows. This
was hopeless. It was never going to work out. He didn't even know Toby
anymore, not this one who touched him in public and acted like he was
trying to come onto him in the showers. When had that gotten to be so easy
for Toby? And could he believe it was real? Had it ever been? 

"Are you sure that's the move you want to make?" Toby said, studying the
board and then looking over at him. 

"Yeah. Why?" 

"It's not a very good one." To illustrate, Toby moved his knight again and
took out a bishop Chris had carelessly left unguarded. "I seem to remember
you playing better than this." 

Yeah, he'd been a good player once upon a time, before he'd had anything
to lose. He sat up and hunched forward with a shrug. "I'm just kinda
rusty." 

Toby gave him a sympathetic look at that, nodding. "I guess you would be.
We could do something else." 

He shook his head. "This is fine." Chris knew he'd been getting on Toby's
nerves earlier, pacing around here, unable to settle down -- wanting to
bolt and run again when McManus and Murphy had come along just a while
ago. It had taken him a few seconds to register that all they were telling
him was that his new work assignment would be in the library. He'd been so
sure this was the other shoe dropping: they were going to tell him there'd
been some mix-up, Sister Pete had got it wrong and there wasn't any
reprieve -- they were frying him after all. 

Trying to find a better move this time, Chris looked the board over as he
said, "So what was all that about in cafeteria? Why's Said got a bug up
his ass now?" 

Toby's mouth quirked with a tiny smile that just as quickly turned
pensive. "I disappointed him." 

Fuck. That was how Holier-Than-Thou-Said showed how much he cared about
Toby, by letting Toby know he was a disappointment? Not that
self-righteous pricks had that market cornered, he had to admit, wincing
away from the memory of how he'd wanted to wound Toby in return for
hurting him so badly. All because he'd been let down that Toby's love
wasn't the cure-all he'd wanted it to be. Maybe that didn't make him any
better than Said, but at least he kept trying to get it right. That might
count for something. "Toby, look, if he wants to go around all pouty and
put out because you're not dancing to his tune that's his fucking problem,
not yours. He's no goddamn different from Schillinger that way." And that
was probably way more than he should have said on that subject. He held
his breath, waiting for anything from a verbal slap down to a punch to the
jaw, and shot him a wary look when all that came was a quiet chuckle.
"What?" 

"I told them that once, in one of our sessions together. Mutual outrage
was had by all." Toby sighed, shook his head. "This is more complicated,
though. I..." He hesitated, biting his lip and giving Chris a thoughtful
look. "You must have wondered what I was doing, delivering the mail for a
while there." 

Oh yeah, just a bit. "You said it was McManus trying to mix things up
again, changing some work assignments." And like Chris had believed that
for a fucking minute. 

Toby gave him an interested look. "Did you actually buy that?" 

"No." But Toby had looked all right, and McManus and Sister Pete wouldn't
let him do something actually dangerous, and it had been too much like
another answered prayer getting to see him and touch him for those few
times. 

"Yeah, well," Toby shrugged, "I lied. I guess," he paused again, looking
like this was something he would prefer to skip over and Chris wanted to
tell him it was okay, he didn't need to know. That might be true, but it
might also be true Toby needed to get it out -- he was like that, Chris
remembered that much. After a pensive huff, and pulling up a
self-deprecating smile, Toby went on, "I guess if you wanted to be
melodramatic you could say I did a deal with the devil." 

Chris sighed and glared over at him, half-wanting to reach over and smack
him one, betting he could name that particular devil in one try. "What did
you give Vern?" 

Toby's smile went sad and thoughtful. "Not much -- just another piece of
my soul," he said and went on to tell him about Guenzel and Winthrop and
the price Toby had been willing to pay just for a chance to see Chris. 

He wasn't even sure what he felt about that admission, his feelings were
all in a jumble. He was pissed off at Guenzel for being such an asshole,
for one thing, and ever putting Toby in a position like that. And he would
have said the little prick got what he deserved, except that he could see
the guilt eating away at Toby. "Winthrop's okay, though?" 

"Yeah. Well, comparatively. They moved him to another unit to get him away
from the Aryans after I testified." Toby looked like he appreciated having
that much off his conscience, at least. "At least he doesn't have to go
around looking like Cindy Brady anymore," Toby added, mouth quirked with
another bitter smile. 

They looked at each other across the chessboard, eyes locking and shadowed
with memories of the one thing they had in common: living -- and almost
dying -- at Schillinger's whim. Chris looked away first, down at the board
as he captured Toby's pawn with one of his own. Toby had become an
accomplished player, all right. And as sad as that made him, Chris
couldn't deny that he felt a certain satisfaction mixed in as well. Now
Toby knew. He knew the desperate lengths you could be driven to, the
stakes you were playing for in here, and the rules you played by. 

Even so, he couldn't help wondering if Toby thought the cost had been
worth it. "You could've walked away, blown it off," he said quietly, as
Toby bent over the board again. 

Toby shot him a quick, hard look. "I'm nobody's bitch," he said, crossing
into Chris' territory and taking up an unassailable position with his
knight. He shrugged again after a moment, a troubled look back in his
eyes. "I don't know -- probably I could have handled it all differently,
but," he looked at Chris again and grasped his hand, "at the time all I
saw was a means to an end." 

And Chris suspected he shouldn't feel kind of turned on by that
confession. If he needed proof Toby wanted him back just as badly, he
guessed he had it. Only -- Chris dropped his gaze back to the board and
moved his other bishop forward, no real intent in mind -- was it more than
that, more than wanting to fuck? That's what he desperately needed to
know. 

He rested back on the bunk again, watching Toby ... hungrily, warily ...
wanting to come right out and ask but too afraid of the answer. When it
had looked like it was all beside the point anyway since they were never
going to see each other again, it had been easy -- okay, easier -- to just
let it lie. Where was the harm in going to the electric chair, believing
Toby really loved him? Now, though... 

"That still doesn't explain why Said's in a snit," he said, circling a
little closer to the main point. 

Toby gave him a wry smile and a tiny, amused huff at that. "After Adam
died, I...went to Said to confide in him, seek his advice. He said since
you were the reason for my deplorable lapse," his wide mouth twisted with
the sarcastic bitterness that showed in his eyes, "I should atone for my
actions by denying myself any chance to see you." 

Chris barely spared an irritated thought for Said's interference. Feeling
a dangerous twinge of hope, he leaned forward, intently watching Toby's
face, alert to every thought and emotion he could see there no matter how
subtle. "You came, though," he said, quiet, trying not to invest that with
too much significance. 

Toby nodded. "Like you said, I don't take orders well." He gave him a
serious, apologetic look then and reached over to touch his arm, stroking
along the forearm. "I tried to keep away," he said, as if confessing some
grievous sin. "I saw you once, in the hospital. I wanted you to look over
and see me, I wanted to go to you, but," he sighed and gave a hapless
little shrug, "I turned away. My need to punish myself took precedence.
I'm sorry." He clasped Chris' hands, twining their fingers together. "But
when I heard about your sentence all I could think of was that I had to
get to you, I had to see you and let you know there was someone who cared,
someone who loved you and would stand by you no matter," he finished, blue
eyes growing bright for a moment with the force of his declaration. 

Feeling his own eyes sting for an instant, Chris looked down at the board
again -- but he didn't withdraw his hand from Toby's gentle grasp. "Said
didn't approve?" 

Toby's laugh was soft and rueful. "No. And..." he gave Chris' hand a
squeeze, "I don't especially give a fuck." 

"He's your friend," Chris said, looking up at him again. 

Somehow managing to look sad and happy at the same time, Toby reached over
with his other hand and cupped Chris' face, saying, "Yes, but you're my
lover. That makes a difference." 

Yes, it did, but instead of being thrilled at such an outright statement
Chris felt another rush of anxiety tear through him. Getting to his feet
abruptly enough to jostle the chessboard, he paced over to the pod door,
bracing his hands against the Plexiglas as he stared out into the empty
common area. He felt Toby come up behind him, felt Toby's hands on his
shoulders, kneading them. Heard Toby's breath soft against his ear,
asking, "Chris, what is it? What's wrong?" 

But he didn't know what to tell him because he didn't have a fucking clue
himself.  

This was all going wrong. That was all Toby could think as he stood there,
feeling Chris trembling under his touch, every muscle wound tight with
tension. Instead of settling down and relaxing, Chris was getting more
skittish. And for the life of him Toby couldn't see what he had said or
done this time to bring this on. He'd thought Chris would want to know how
badly he'd needed to see him, how highly Toby valued him. Maybe he'd been
coming on a little strong, sort of flirting with him there in the showers,
but he'd thought Chris would get a kick out of that. That it would be a
pretty clear signal that Toby was very glad to see him and couldn't wait
until the lights went out and they could really celebrate their reunion. 

"Chris..." He sighed, rubbing the strong shoulders again, resting his
cheek there for a moment. "Is it Schillinger? Are you mad because I went
along with his demands?" 

"No. I'm not mad about that. I'm not mad about anything, Toby," Chris
said, the words spoken softly, a tone of exasperation coloring them. 

"Well...then...?" Utterly mystified, Toby just held him, feeling his chest
rise and fall with a sigh, Chris' warm breath fogging the glass for a
moment. "Talk to me, please." 

The exasperation was sharper in Chris' exhalation this time and Toby could
feel the strong muscles tightening up some more, as if Chris wanted to
just burst out of the pod and run, keep running until he achieved some
nirvana of total exhaustion. Toby knew a little something about that. He
could help him with that, if Chris would only let him. 

"There's nothing to talk about, Toby," Chris finally said, the words
sounding almost like they were being recited by rote. "I'm not mad at
you." 

Maybe not -- but something was eating at him, and if Chris expected him to
just let it be than he must have forgotten everything he had ever learned
about Tobias Beecher. 

"All right." Toby stepped back, dropping his hands to Chris' waist and for
an instant, squeezing and aching to do more. He wasn't about to give up on
working this out, no, but he could see that another approach might work
better. "Then if there's nothing wrong," he dropped his voice to a
seductive whisper against Chris' ear, "how about we get ready for bed and
see about working out all these kinks." He punctuated his words by running
one hand up Chris' broad back, fingers lingering over the knotted muscles.


Chris turned to face him then, a kaleidoscope of emotions in his eyes,
something a lot like angry suspicion standing out clearest of all. "When
the fuck did that get so damned easy for you?" he said, the hurt and
apprehension evident in his voice. 

"When did what get so easy for me?" Toby backed off a little ways, wanting
to understand but feeling more bewildered by the second. 

"All this..." Chris shook his head, gesturing emptily, like the words were
frustrating him. "Anytime I touched you in public, anytime I showed you
how I felt about you where anyone could see, you'd get all pissed off and
uptight. Now all of a sudden you can't keep your hands to yourself?" he
finished with an angry look. 

Well for... Toby glared back at him, saying, "Well I beg your fucking
pardon. I had this goofy idea you might appreciate my not being all pissed
off and uptight." He regretted the words almost immediately, seeing the
stricken look in Chris' eyes. "Chris," he stepped forward again,
struggling not to touch him, "why are we fighting?" 

"I don't know." 

Toby could see that was true. He took another step closer, giving in and
touching him now, just gripping his shoulder for a moment. "You're here,
you're not going to die," he said, trying to explain. "That sort of makes
me happy, and I thought we might want to mark that with some kind of
special observance. That's all." He shrugged, giving him an ironic smile.
"I could probably get bitchy about something, if that's what would really
make you happy." 

Those highly kissable lips gave a slight twitch, like the absurdity of
this was dawning on Chris at last -- but there was still something wary
lurking in the depths of those blue, blue eyes. "No, that isn't what I
want." 

"You're sure? `Cause I could even put together a crazy rhyme if that would
help." Toby watched him carefully, wanting to make sure Chris understood
he was just teasing. 

Those lips quirked with a bigger smile and Chris shook his head. "No, I
don't need any rhymes." 

"You're absolutely positive?" Toby said, looking at him with mock
seriousness. "Not even..." he paused, thinking, and then leaning in close
again to whisper, "Ride a cock-horse to Banbury Cross, to see a fine--"
The hand placed across his mouth quieted him. "You don't like that one?
How about," he said when the hand was removed, barely getting out, "A Nick
and a nock, a hen and a cock," before his mouth was covered again. Huffing
as the hand was removed again, Toby narrowed his eyes at him, saying, "I
suppose you'd have objections to anything about a guy from Nantucket,
too?" 

"Maybe later." 

Toby nodded, thinking he'd achieved his objective anyway as he watched
Chris visibly relax and saw most of that guarded concern leave his eyes.
He could only keep his fingers crossed it would all be gone before too
much longer. This shouldn't still be hard, not after everything they had
been through, not when they had been able to say so much in all those
letters. Jesus, hadn't he told Chris time and again what he'd like to do
with him if they could ever be truly alone? Sharing all those fantasies
should have gone a long ways to letting him know little Toby was all over
his inhibitions. Maybe dealing with that in the flesh took some getting
used to, though? 

He thought he could understand that, especially when it had been such a
long time since they had been together like that. Anyone might be feeling
just a bit jittery. After all, didn't he keep chattering away so he
wouldn't dwell too much on the enormity of this, having Chris back? There
he was, right there, looking better than anyone just released from death
row had a right to. And he was real, wonderfully, vibrantly real, not just
another dream. Toby could touch him again, kiss him and hold and love him
again. Touching was absolutely essential, in fact, to make sure this
wasn't just an incredibly vivid figment of his imagination. And if he
really did think about that too much he might need to go sit in a corner
and jibber to himself for a while. 

So all things considered, it looked to him that wanting to get naked
between the sheets with Chris and just revel in the feel and smell and
taste of him was the vastly preferred alternative. He hadn't expected
Chris would require any convincing that way, but Toby was perfectly
resolved to call upon all his powers of persuasion to bring Chris around
to seeing that was indeed the most desirable outcome. 

If need be, in fact, he was prepared to work on it all night long. 

"Are we good?" he said, giving Chris a serious look. 

And Chris hesitated only a fraction of a second before nodding. "We're
good." 

With just a bit of luck they might be on their way to fantastic very
shortly -- but Toby thought it might be wise to let well enough alone just
for the moment. 

"Shall we finish the game?" Toby said, glancing back at the board. 

Chris looked there, too, but shook his head. "Nah, you had me beat." 

This was true, although Toby had a hunch that wasn't just because Chris
was out of practice. The remnants of the game, Chris' side especially,
showed an uncharacteristic lack of focus, pieces moved all willy-nilly as
if the player's mind had been a million miles away. 

He tidied up, putting the cheap board and plastic pieces away in the
locker, casting another thoughtful look over at Chris, still standing by
the door and watching him. Always watching him, even across a gulf of pain
and misery. Funny how much he had grown to rely on that, taking a perverse
sort of comfort in that constancy. That first night without it had been
the hardest, looking up to the second tier of cells there and knowing
Chris wouldn't be there, he wouldn't be waiting as if it was all some
prearranged rendezvous. Standing there at the door and gazing up at
nothing -- that's when everything had really hit him, when he truly
realized Chris was gone, forever. And if, for once, he had kept his grief
private and quiet, hoarding it to himself like something rare and
precious, it had still cut deep. 

He hoped he might be forgiven for being glad he could stop preparing to go
through that again, feel that much desolation again. 

Reaching to move a yellow legal pad out of the way as he rooted around for
his sweats, Toby's heart stopped for an instant as he read the words so
carefully written down there: Last Will and Testament of Christopher
Keller. Oh man. He touched those words, fingertips tracing over them as
his vision grew blurry and his throat tightened up. Thank you, God.
Offering up the silent, heartfelt prayer, he closed the locker and shot
Chris another look, weighing some pros and cons. 

Pro: He really wanted to show Chris how glad he was to have him back. Con:
Chris seemed a bit taken aback by his flagrant advances, however. Pro:
Well that was just fucking tough, and the big galoot could just learn to
get used to it because this relationship had been on an unequal footing
for far too long. Con: Of course, he would probably feel like an idiot,
but... 

Resolved, Toby sat down to remove his boots and socks, then stood up again
to enjoy a nice, slow, full body stretch -- trying not to smile as a
casual glance confirmed that he did, indeed, have his companion's
undivided attention. Now if he could just pull this off with a certain
degree of finesse, it just might go a long ways to providing a certain
someone with stimulating inspiration. Well, there was also the possibility
Chris would bust a gut laughing his ass off. Toby wasn't making bets
either way. 

He'd never done anything like this, he'd never even thought of doing
anything like this. In fact if the idea of a guy stripping had ever
crossed his mind back in the day, it probably would have struck him as
pretty damned silly and not in the least erotic. All that had changed the
day that certain someone -- brooding good looks, sleek and smoldering,
peeling out of his clothes with a casual and unselfconscious sensuality --
had said, `Wanna wrestle?' And while Toby had some personal doubts about
possessing anything close to those qualities, it was easy to believe
otherwise whenever he looked into Chris' eyes. That knowledge was the only
thing that made this remotely easy. 

He tugged the black polo out of his pants and grasped the hem,
slowly...slowly drawing the cloth up over his abdomen...higher... Damn.
How had Chris been so cool and easy doing this? Toby was already feeling
warm and tingly, his nipples hard and sensitive as the soft cloth brushed
over them, and his cock ready to stand up and say howdy. Taking a deep
breath and striving for some nonchalance -- nope, nothing going on in
here, just getting ready for lights out -- Toby got out of the shirt and
flung it out of the way, stealing a glance at Chris and taking a good deal
of satisfaction in what he saw. Clumsy or not, he had a captive audience,
all right. He could feel the heat of those blue eyes sizzling him as they
raked him up and down and he couldn't wait for those parted lips to caress
his skin. It was always like that, Chris looking at him like he was the
most delicious and desirable thing Chris had ever seen. And someday they
might just try that experiment he'd wondered about, find out if Chris
really could make him come just by looking at him. 

Thinking about that really didn't help, however, and he paused to draw in
a couple of deep breaths, hands reaching for his zipper and waiting until
his overeager anatomy settled down just a bit. Maybe music helped distract
your mind? he thought, trying to think of some sexy, bump-and-grind tune
he could hum to himself. The only thing popping into his head, though, was
`There was a farmer had a dog, and his name was Bingo.' Although...
B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, Bingo was his name-o ... Yes that did help,
actually. He was able to pull the zipper down and get out of his pants and
briefs without anything standing up to salute anyway. The point was
casual, going on about his business just as if Chris wasn't standing over
there visually eating him alive. 

Toby slipped into the navy sweats then, letting them ride low on his hips
as he went over to the sink and reached for his toothbrush. Short of
taking out an announcement in the Times, he didn't see how he could send
out a clearer invitation. Now it was just wait and see what kind of
response came back. 

Off-hand - and out of the corner of his eye Toby watched Chris resting
back against the bunks, breathing like he'd just done a set up push-up --
he would have to say all the indications were very encouraging.  

Jesus Christ. Was Toby doing that deliberately? Chris had never been able
to tell. Sometimes he'd thought it had to be false modesty, Toby acting
like he had no idea he was hotter than asphalt on the Fourth of July.
Other times he'd got the feeling the blond really was completely clueless
that way and that it was his special responsibility to open up Toby's
eyes. That was one job he'd really enjoyed. 

He was getting a kick out of this show, too. Although he'd like it better
if it was for his eyes only. Had he told Toby about that one, the daydream
he had sometimes about them slow-dancing to some hot, bluesy music far
away from Oz? How in the daydream they undressed each other to the beat of
the music, its rhythms matching their movements even as they tumbled down
to the bed? Yeah, that was always a good one. Maybe Toby'd like it. 

He let his gaze linger on the slim lines of the other man's body as Toby
went over to the sink. A few pounds too slim, perhaps, but Chris didn't
have any other complaints about the view -- barefoot, wearing a pair of
navy blue sweats that were riding low on narrow hips as he reached for a
toothbrush. Sensing he was being watched, Toby cast a look over his
shoulder that was an awful lot like that coy, come and get it glance Chris
had been treated to that long ago New Years' Eve. The fact that he
couldn't entirely trust his interpretation worried him, though. All of a
sudden he needed something a whole lot more explicit to clue him on how to
proceed. 

He could just come out and ask, of course, and he didn't know what had him
feeling kind of shy all of a sudden. Maybe it had to do with how they had
spent so much time lately communicating through letters, and some of that
stuff was harder to express face to face? And maybe it had something to do
with how they hadn't touched each other like that in such a long time? 

Every moment of their last night together was permanently imprinted on his
memory, starting with that amazing moment when Toby had kissed his wound,
that simple gesture filled with such sense of reverence and tenderness
that it could still floor him two years later. Even after everything that
had happened in between. He remembered thinking he could be very content
with just that touch, being close to Toby and offering whatever comfort he
could to help him get through that nightmare of his missing children.
Chris hadn't expected Toby to want more, to need more right then, but Toby
had told him he needed to feel something besides fear and desperation,
pulling Chris down to the hard and narrow mattress. That hadn't been
anywhere near their most passionate coupling but it was had been one of
the most satisfying, just touching and kissing, both of them needing to
feel another heart beating in the darkest part of the night. It had been
one of those perfect moments when Chris really believed this was it, this
was the love he had been starving for all of his life. 

A sad smile quirked his lips for a moment as he stood there remembering
every touch, every look that had convinced him Toby loved him -- and how
those memories had made him feel so stupid afterwards, twisting the knife
even further into his heart when Toby had turned on him so unexpectedly.
Trying to figure out how that made any sense, how Toby could love him so
sweetly one second and then try to kill him the next, had just about
driven him nuts those days he'd been locked away in the hole. `You're
capable of anything!' Toby had screamed at him, truly believing that --
and Chris knew he couldn't deny it. Like he'd told Sister Pete, he was as
bad as they came. Toby especially hadn't had one goddamn reason to think
otherwise. That was the fucked up thing, though. Chris had truly believed
Toby had been able to find something of worth in him, something that a
person like Toby could love. Having that illusion shattered all to pieces
without any kind of warning -- nothing had ever hurt that bad, nothing had
ever made him want to just crawl in a hole and die. 

He guessed it was still a pretty tender spot, probably it always would be,
just like Toby would never really get over that first betrayal no matter
what. Chris appreciated that he kept making that effort, though. It was
more of a second chance than he deserved, that was for sure. 

But -- could they really glue all those broken bits and pieces back
together and love each other like that again? He didn't know, and he was
almost afraid to find out, but ... Chris watched Toby brushing his teeth
... he was more afraid of never knowing. Even so, he was glad when the
lights finally went out and left them in shadow, because whatever happened
next had to be easier in the dark.  

All those words on paper should have helped more. 

Chris was thinking about that as he stood there, watching Toby finish
brushing his teeth. They had said so much to each other, things Chris had
never confided in anyone - words from Toby that felt like things he'd
wanted to hear all his life. He'd believed them easily enough up to now,
looking forward to every letter almost as if they had become the
embodiment of all the Christmas presents and birthday parties that had
never turned up. Which was a really stupid way to think of them, and he'd
never told Toby about that, but that's how it felt - that same blend of
anticipation and hope he'd felt long, long ago that maybe this time, this
year, it would be different and he wouldn't be forgotten. Trouble was, now
it was also starting to feel like the letdown that always followed as
expectation collided with reality. 

He flashed on a stupid memory, one time his Aunt Francie had brought him a
birthday cake and how he'd just realized it really was for him because
she'd put his name on it when Danny'd come along, saying, `Hey, Chrissy,
you need a closer look at that?' and pushed his face into the cake. And
even that wouldn't have been so bad if everybody else hadn't laughed right
along with his big brother, even Aunt Francie. 

Stupid fucking memory. And anyway Danny was dead - 19-years-old and riding
his bike like a bat of hell and never seeing that truck coming until he
smashed right into it. Chris pushed that memory away, too, seeing his
brother's mangled body there on the street, crying even though he'd
half-hated the stupid sonofabitch, and hearing his mother's voice
screeching at him down at the hospital, `Oh, God, why couldn't it have
been you!' 

Sitting down on his bunk for a moment, Chris hunched forward, not
understanding why stuff like that was popping into his head now, when Toby
was right there, ready and willing and looking better than any pile of
presents under the Christmas tree. Was it what Sister Pete'd kept harping
at him about, that delayed reaction? Whatever it was, he wished it would
just go the fuck away and let him be so he could enjoy what was here and
now. He had the rest of his goddamned life to remember all the rest of it
- but Toby would be gone so soon. 

Even so, it took a lot of effort for Chris to get up again and take the
couple of steps necessary to bring him up behind Toby, close enough to
touch ... and he did, caressing the nape of his neck and feeling the silky
gold of those curls tickle his fingers. Growing bolder, his fingers traced
the bumpy ridge of spine, wanting to run his tongue along that same route,
wanting to kiss and caress every inch of that beautiful back. For now he
settled for resting his hands at Toby's trim waist and nuzzling those
springy curls. Not sure how to interpret Toby brushing more furiously,
Chris planted a soft trail of kisses along the back of his neck and left
shoulder, face burrowing into the crook of his neck, mouth open against
Toby's flesh so the taste of him would saturate his mouth. 

In the next instant he could have sworn he felt all those hairline cracks
splintering again as Toby said, "Stop -- Chris, quit it." 

Oh Christ. 

Chris stepped back, not knowing what to do, only wanting to not have to
stand there feeling like a fucking idiot. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, not
even risking a look at him. What had he done wrong? He couldn't see what
he'd done wrong this time. 

"Well I should hope so," Toby was saying, sounding like nothing at all out
of the ordinary was happening, "because we have had this discussion, you
know." 

"What?" Chris looked at him then, completely clueless and kind of wishing
Toby would just shut the fuck up. 

Toby rinsed, spit, and turned around. "You not getting frisky when I've
got a mouth full of toothpaste, that's what. I'm glad you like me minty
fresh but you can just hold your horses for a second." 

He thought this was fucking funny? "Why don't you just go to hell?" he
growled out, sitting back down on his bunk, hunched over again with his
arms folded around himself, really feeling like he might just come apart
any second. God, when was this ever going to stop - the games, the jumping
through hoops? Sometimes he felt like he should be playing that stupid
game where you plucked the petals off a flower, saying, `Toby loves me, he
loves me not, he loves me ... he loves me not...' He even knew he deserved
the mind-games, if that's what this all really was, because what he'd done
to Toby could never be forgiven. If the last thing Toby ever said to him
just before he walked out of Oz forever, was, `I don't love you, I never
loved you,' it would be nothing but justice, the payback he had coming.
But, Christ, he didn't know how much more of it he could bear. 

"Chris... Chris, what it is?" Toby said, sounding like he actually cared.
He watched bare feet pad over to him, the slim, pale body kneeling down
and those strong hands resting on his knees, as Toby asked, "Chris, will
you look at me? Come on." 

He just shook his head furiously, feeling himself shaking now. "Leave me
alone." 

"No. Chris," Toby was moving, sitting beside him and taking him into his
arms, "it's okay, come on, it's okay." 

"It isn't fucking okay," Chris hissed back, struggling in that embrace,
belatedly remembering how Toby was always so much stronger than he looked.
"Nothing is fucking okay!" Oh Christ, he felt like he wanted to scream or
cry, or ... he didn't know what. 

"All right," Toby spoke against his ear, soft, soothing, one hand stroking
his hair, "all right, it's as okay as it can be, though. Just calm down,
calm down," he went on like that, shushing him softly, holding him,
petting him through the tremors. "Tell me what's wrong -- can you tell me
what's wrong?" 

Chris shook his head, letting Toby hold him now. "I don't know. It -- it's
everything. It's thinking I was never going to see you again and starting
to get used to that and then they tell me, nope, you're going back to Oz.
And I'm fucking looking forward to that," he rushed the words out,
stumbling over them, feeling like they would choke him if he didn't get
rid of them, "and then they tell me, no, no Toby, no nothing, just that
fucking cunt hack and a one-way trip to the electric chair. And then," he
had to clear his throat, burying his face against Toby's shoulder as he
felt the stupid fucking tears welling up, holding on tight to Toby as they
fell, "you're there, you're really fucking there, and I can touch you and
kiss you and that's like fucking heaven. And they fucking take that away,
and there's just nothing, nothing until today, just out of the blue, they
tell me oh, yeah, you're not getting fried after all and you even get to
go see Toby again -- and it's just another fucking trick, isn't it?
Tomorrow they'll come along and say it was just a joke and take you away
again. And...and..." running down, no words left, he just sagged in Toby's
arms, trembling, wishing he could just die right this moment because all
he'd done was make a goddamn fool of himself carrying on like a maniac. 

Toby just held him, though, rocking him gently, stroking his hair, and not
even saying anything for a long time. When he did speak, there was a
tender, wry note in his voice as he set Chris back just a bit. "Well,
you've just had quite a day, haven't you?" 

Chris felt his lip trembling again and bit down on it, afraid he was going
to start bawling again. "It's not funny." 

"Well," Toby drawled it out, reaching out to touch his face, brushing at
the wetness, "you having a fit of hysterics is kind of amusing." The look
in his eyes was soft and warm, though, and he drew Chris' face to him,
kissing his cheeks, tasting the salt. "I'm not laughing at you, baby," he
murmured. "Never." 

Chris sniffed, cleared his throat. "It's just...too much," he admitted.
Christ -- it had been too much all his life. 

"Yeah, it is," Toby said, still keeping him close. "A good screaming
hissyfit every now and then can really do wonders for you, though." 

"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind," Chris grumbled, letting himself rest
against Toby, wanting to stay right there forever.  

"Tell me what's hurting you," Toby said once he felt Chris relaxing
against him, the tremors easing. This had to be more than just getting
readjusted to life in Em City. That might discombobulate Chris, but Toby
didn't see it bringing on anything like this reaction. 

Chris' reply sort of confirmed that, a trace of resentment in his voice as
he said, "Why should you care?" 

"I don't know - I'm funny that way about people I love." Toby kept his
tone mild, striving not to add to the volatility. "What do you need?" 

That earned an inarticulate sound that carried a great deal of incredulity
in it, but Toby waited, his patience rewarded when Chris said, "I need to
be a million miles from here. Can you give me that?" 

Toby sighed, stroking his hair again, a familiar vision popping into his
head of the two of them on the back of Chris' bike, racing down some
endless highway under a clear blue sky. "I would if I could. You know
that." 

"I do?" 

O-kay, that was kind of unexpectedly on the snarkily disbelieving side. "I
would have thought so, yes," he replied, still trying to keep it calm and
easy. 

"That's why you made sure I got such expert legal advice?" Chris shot
right back, no mistaking the bitterness now as he got free of Toby's
embrace and scooted down to the other end of the bunk. 

It was on the tip of his tongue to snap back something about what had he
wanted, for Toby to hire Johnnie Cochrane? The haunted look in Chris' eyes
stopped him, though. Well, and not to mention his own sense of retroactive
guilt and responsibility. "I thought Katherine would do her best." 

"And you based that on what, exactly? How fucking short she wore her
skirts?" 

"Look," Toby sat up straighter, dearly wanting to avoid a fight but
feeling his confidence that way slipping rapidly away, "there is no reason
to drag Katherine into this." 

"No? Why - you still fucking her?" Chris shot back, all the anger and
suspicion crystallizing in that accusation, even while he looked like he'd
give anything to have the words unsaid in the next second. 

"No, I am not still fucking her, I never did fuck her." Toby popped up off
the bunk and crossed quickly over to the pod door, knowing there had to be
some space between them right this moment. Leaning back against the door,
he stared over at Chris, hardly knowing where to start. "That's what's
eating you? You're jealous of Katherine?" And everybody thought he was the
crazy one. Jesus fucking Christ - what did he have to do, what did he have
to say to make Chris believe? He pushed off from the door and crossed to
the locker again, opening it and tearing through the contents, carelessly
discarding items on the floor - even the drawings from Holly and Harry
that he'd been showing Chris earlier in the evening - until he'd found
what he wanted. Hurling the bundle of letters over at Chris, he demanded,
"Did you read one goddamn word I wrote you?" 

The letters were thrown back at him even more violently, smacking into the
wall and scattering over the floor as the rubber band broke that held them
together. "They're just fucking words, Toby!" Chris hunched over again,
hugging himself tight, repeating in something like a heartbroken whisper,
"They're just fucking words." 

Toby watched him helplessly, wanting to go to him -- not wanting to fight
over a woman that meant less to him than a daydream. He didn't know if he
could do it, though, if either one of them had the emotional wherewithal
to keep this up any longer. Was it even worth it to try? he wondered,
already feeling exhausted and frazzled and almost glad to see the beam of
a flashlight swinging their way, a hack pounding on the glass and
cautioning them to keep it the fuck down. 

Climbing up to his bunk, Toby sat with his back resting against the wall,
arms looped around his knees as he tried to find some way out of this
vicious circle they were trapped in. Was it worth it? He'd sure thought
so, just a few minutes ago. He hadn't even needed to think about that, not
a few minutes ago. 

"Chris - what do you want?" he asked into the darkness, not even sure he'd
get an answer. 

One drifted up to him, though, Chris sounding just as exhausted and
forlorn. "I don't know." 

"Well can you take a shot in the dark?" 

Silence answered him this time and he might have given up then, if not for
the quiet sigh he heard, something in that sound reminding him of the
desolation he'd felt when Chris was gone, a loneliness that cut too deep
for words. He dropped to the floor, glancing at the man still sitting at
the end of the lower bunk, and took a couple of minutes to clean up the
mess of the floor - and work out what to say. 

"This isn't really about Katherine, is it?" he finally said, slowly
approaching that lower bunk again. 

"Isn't it?" 

"I don't think so." Toby sat down carefully, not touching him yet. "She
didn't mean anything to me, Chris, I swear." 

"Swear, promise, make an oath, take a vow?" The words were tossed back at
him softly, no venom in them, just a trace of worn out irony. "You dreamed
about being with her, strolling hand-in-hand through a park with her when
they let you out of here. How couldn't she mean something to you?" 

"Chris..." He sighed. "Do you know why I told you about that?" 

"No." That was all Chris said, but it was enough for Toby to suspect that
was something Chris had spent a lot of time wondering about, and that he'd
come to all the wrong conclusions. And whose fault was that? 

"Chris, I dreamed about walking in the park with her because it didn't
mean anything. It was make believe, no more substance than a soap bubble."
Even if he hadn't truly realized that at the time it didn't make it any
less true. Katherine's memory didn't haunt him; he didn't lie awake at
night thinking of the thousand things he could have said or done
differently with her. He leaned forward just a bit and carefully reached
out, needing the affirmation of touch, fingertips just barely tracing
along the fine hairs of Chris' arm. "Knowing I will never walk in the park
with her doesn't break my heart, Chris." Hell, up to this moment he hadn't
even thought of her since she had walked out of his life. 

Chris gave him a quick, troubled look, then glanced away again and drew in
a shaky breath. Toby longed to reach for him and soothe away whatever was
tearing him up inside. He didn't even know where to start, though, he
wasn't used to Chris being the fragile one. 

Only that wasn't quite true. There had been moments, sometimes no more
than a quick glimpse, sometimes more substantial - dealing with his demons
there, alone in the dark and trying not to bother him, asking for nothing
except for Toby not to let go. Acting like the tiniest gesture of kindness
or casual intimacy was some sort of miracle. 

Maybe it was, to Chris. In so many ways this man was still a complete
mystery to Toby, all the ways that were supposed to matter. Ask about the
Keller ex-wives club or Ponzies past, no problem. Chris had written enough
about both to provide plots for three or four novels. Change the subject
and venture an inquiry about his family, though, where he came from and
how he'd grown up and you smacked right into a brick wall. Christopher
Keller began life at seventeen, in Lardner - period. And even then the
story was carefully edited and pieced together so that he hadn't been
Vern's victim. Oh no, Chris had let Schillinger abuse him, rape him. And
wild horses wouldn't make him budge from that. Toby had given in on that
at last, seeing it was crucial to Chris' self-image that he not have been
a helpless victim. Because somewhere in that past he wouldn't talk about
that's exactly what he had been? 

Up to now Toby hadn't really minded taking the easy route and almost
believing he was only thinking of Chris by doing so, wanting to spare him
having to tear open all those old wounds. That he tended to be selfishly
obsessed with own endless trials and tribulations hadn't been a factor, of
course, no sir. If that past was spreading its poison even now, though,
that careful avoidance wasn't an option for either of them anymore. 

"Chris," he scooted closer, laying his hand on Chris' forearm and feeling
the muscle so taut beneath his palm, "I wish I could read your mind, but
you've got to tell me what's going on." 

He wasn't sure Chris would answer him. He had just about decided Chris was
just going to stare at him all night with those wounded, weary eyes as
Chris finally said, "I know I've got no claim on you, Toby. I know you
don't owe me the time of day much less anything else. I know you're gonna
walk away from here and never look back, never think of me again. It's
just..." He trailed off then, biting his lip, breathing hard and dropping
his gaze down to his hands, folded neatly in his lap. 

Aching for him, Toby bit back the half dozen replies that leaped to his
tongue and reached for Chris' hands instead, clasping them. "You know all
that for a fact, huh?" he said at last, striving to inject a note of
gentle humor into his voice. "You couldn't be more wrong, Chris, about all
of it." 

That only got him a doubtful, frustrated look. "You don't gotta lie to me,
Toby." 

Swallowing his own frustration, Toby said, "How do I show you I'm not
lying?" 

Just shaking his head, Chris said, "I don't know - listen to me?" 

"I am." 

Chris shook his head again. "I mean listen to me, like you do Said." 

This was important, Toby could tell that from the earnest way Chris was
looking at him. For the life of him, though, he just wasn't getting it.
"All right." 

Whatever Chris wanted to hear, though, that wasn't it. "Look, just forget
it, okay?" He got free of Toby's grasp and slipped off the bunk, crossing
over to lean against the sink. Weariness infused every movement, the kind
that had nothing to do with physical tiredness. He spared a brief glance
at his reflection in the shadowy mirror before turning and tugging his
wifebeater out of his pants, making as if it to peel on out of it. "You
wanna fuck?" 

Toby felt his heart crack wide open. He'd never seen Chris like this,
never heard him sounding so...dead. "No, I don't want to fuck," he said
quietly as he got off the bed and approached him, feeling like he was
walking on broken glass. He stopped when he was near enough to touch, to
see his face but not boxing him in, and said, "Chris, I'm listening, I
am." He didn't know what else to say or do, and that might have been the
hardest thing he'd done in a long time - just stand there and keep quiet
while Chris watched him, searching his face as if hoping to discover
buried treasure. 

"Look," Chris finally spoke up, resignation in every syllable, "I know you
can't trust me, I know I fucked up any hope of that, and you've got even
less reason to ever...I don't know, respect me, but...but I wish you would
listen to me, not Said, when it comes to someone like Schillinger. I
wish..." He trailed off again, shaking his head as if expressing a sense
of utter futility, one corner of his mouth quirking up with wry irony, as
if he might be recalling someone else wishing on a star in this pod once
upon a time. "I... You said I'm your lover and Said's your friend... I
want to be that, Toby, I...I want to be more than just some guy
you...fucked." The effort to get those words out seemed to exhaust him and
he dropped to the floor, knees drawn up and his head bowed forward. His
posture saying he was waiting for another notice of execution. 

With little idea of what to say, Toby sat down beside him and reached for
his hand again, threading their fingers together, giving a little squeeze.
He didn't know how long they sat like that, quiet, their breathing slowly
easing into a synchronous rhythm. Long enough for a hack to pass by again
and shine his light over them, moving on without any comment. After a bit
Toby laid his head down on Chris' shoulder and said, "You have never been
just some guy I fucked. Even when I was angry enough at you to spit, you
were never that. I'm sorry I let you down--" 

"Toby--" 

"My turn to talk, okay?" Toby cut him off with a tiny huff. "Yes, we got
off on the worst foot possible, but that's ancient history. I forgave
you--" 

"You can't." 

Another huff. "I fucking can and I have, so just get that through your
head once and for all. And quit being such a goddamn suffering martyr
because I called dibs on that when I got here." Okay, so it was kind of
soon to try lightening the atmosphere with a stab at humor. "Do you
forgive me?" 

"You know I do." 

"Why?" 

"Because I love you." Just like that, just that simply. That never ceased
to blow Toby away. 

"And that strikes you as a good enough reason?" 

A frustrated sound from Chris then, and he shifted around to look at Toby,
suspicious and unsure of himself. "What the fuck's that mean?" 

"It means you're not the only one who can let bygones be bygones." 

Chris grimaced, looking away. "Operation Toby was a lot more than a
fucking bygone." 

"Yeah - and so was stabbing you in the back, in the dark," Toby said,
watching him. "So was believing you ever could have ordered the murder of
my son and trying to kill you. Yet you kept right on loving me, no matter
what." 

Chris gave a hapless shrug. "You're all I've got, Toby." 

And that just about killed Toby every time he thought about it. "Then at
least believe you really do have me. And don't give me any bullshit about
how you know I'm going to walk away from you and deny I ever knew you." 

Toby reached over, framing his hands along Chris' face, making the other
man look at him. "You're under my skin and pulsing through my blood and
filling my soul, Christopher Keller. You're as indelible as your tattoos
or the brand on my ass. If I wanted to, I couldn't get rid of that - and I
will never fucking want to. I don't know what will happen if I ever leave
this place. But I know this: even if I had to leave tomorrow and could
never come back, if I never saw your face again or heard your voice, it
wouldn't matter. You're a part of me, a part I will treasure until I draw
my last breath on earth - and don't you ever even think about ditching me
in heaven, you sonofabitch," he finished, eyes stinging, dropping his
hands to Chris' shoulders and giving him a shake, desperate to get through
to him. 

Taking a chance on the one thing that never failed them, he slid a hand
around the back of Chris' head and drew him in close, kissing his bright
eyes, kissing his mouth. "I love you, I will always fucking love you," he
murmured between kisses, brushing his fingers through the short, dark
hair. 

"I don't think that's how the song goes," Chris said, breathing the words
against his ear. 

"It'd be a better song if it did." Toby wrapped his arms around Chris,
just needing to hold him close. "I like you a lot, too, if you really need
to know that." 

"Yeah?" 

"Umm hmm. We can pass each other notes and exchange friendship rings and
have sleepovers - whatever makes you happy," Toby said, hoping a sliver of
humor might come in handy now. 

Apparently it did, because while Chris drew back to give him a doubtful
look there was no trace of haunted sadness in his eyes now. "You are
nuts," he said, wry affection in his voice and eyes. 

"Oh yeah, and like you're the poster boy for mental health," Toby returned
just as affectionately, punctuating it with another kiss on his mouth.
"Thinking of sleepovers, though..." he danced his fingers along Chris'
spine, slipping his hand under the wifebeater and caressing bare skin,
pausing to nip at an earlobe, "...what do you think?" he nodded his head
over at the bunks, searching Chris' eyes for the answer. "It can be just
sleeping," he added when Chris seemed to hesitate an instant too long. 

"Yeah?" 

Toby's mouth quirked up with a happy/sad little smile and he kissed his
again. "Yeah," he said, rubbing their noses together before getting to his
feet and hauling Chris up with him. The rest would come in time.  

Chris sat on the edge of his bunk, watching with some bemusement as Toby
knelt and unlaced his boots, tugging them off. This wasn't exactly what he
had been looking forward to when Sister Pete had brought him the news he
would be back with Toby tonight. It was sweet, Toby getting him ready for
bed and all - but sweet wasn't exactly what he needed. 

On the other hand, he wasn't sure either of them was up to much after this
roller-coaster ride. He did want to signal Toby it would be all right to
want sex, though. It would be just like Toby to start obsessing over that
now, thinking Chris needed wooing or something. He had what he needed now
- fuck, Toby's declaration was a lot more than he would have even thought
to ask for. 

When Toby reached for his zipper, Chris caught those efficient hands and
shook his head. "C'mere," he said, sliding back onto the bunk, stretching
out along the hard, lumpy mattress and patting the spot beside him. After
a moment's hesitation, looking like he was waging some little war with
himself, Toby eased himself down there, snuggling back as Chris spooned up
behind him. "That's better," he murmured, holding him, one hand splayed
over Toby's chest. 

"You're sure?" Toby said on a happy sigh that managed to contain a note of
anxiety. 

Chris nuzzled his ear. "Umm hmm." Sometimes he thought this was what he
had missed most of all. Sex was good; sex with Toby was incredible, but
this - he'd never had this before. "How come we work together?" he said
after a few more blissful moments of just being quiet and hearing Toby's
breath. 

"What do you mean?" Toby shifted around to face him. 

"I mean..." Chris shrugged, not exactly sure how to put it into words. "We
got nothing in common - `cept Vern," he said, frowning pensively over that
connection for a moment. "So how come it works?" 

"I don't know." Toby looked serious, like he might have spent some time
thinking about this, too. "I think we sort of... I don't know," he shook
his head, kind of frustrated, like he didn't quite have the words, either,
which had to be one of those once in a blue moon deals. "I think we shore
each other up," he said at last, making a face like he realized that
sounded sort of goofy. 

"Shore each other up?" Chris repeated. 

With a small huff, Toby returned, laughter in his eyes, "All right - we
complete each other. You like that better?" 

"Mmm - keep workin' on it." 

"Smart ass. Anyway," Toby made himself more comfortable, hiking Chris'
wifebeater up just a bit, hand curving along Chris' waist, "maybe it
doesn't matter if we know each other's favorite color and both like
sushi--" 

"I hate sushi." 

Toby gave him a hard look. "Pizza, then. We both like pizza. Okay?" 

"Okay," Chris said mildly, trying not to laugh. 

"The point I was trying to make," Toby said, sliding his hand up over
Chris' ribs, "is that anyone can have stuff like that in common but it's
no guarantee they will strike sparks--" 

"Do we strike sparks?" Chris murmured, nuzzling his temple. 

"Sometimes I think we're going to spontaneously combust," Toby sighed,
reaching his other hand around the back of Chris' head and bringing him in
for a kiss, a nice, long, getting to know you kind of kiss. "Knowing your
favorite color's pistachio," he said, kind of breathless when they finally
parted, "and you have a mint collection of Hallmark Christmas ornaments
isn't going to give that anymore zing." 

"For the record," Chris had to draw in a couple of shaky breaths himself,
"my favorite color ain't pistachio and the only thing I ever collected was
baseball cards." He drew back a bit and gave Toby a suspicious look. "You
got a mint collection of Christmas ornaments?" 

"Maybe." 

He had to check again and make sure. "Christmas ornaments?" 

Looking back defiantly, Toby declared, "They're pretty," in a tone that
invited him to just try and make something of it. 

Laughing softly, Chris reached for him, bringing him close enough for
another long kiss. With a long, contented sigh, he settled back, holding
Toby, idly playing with his hair. "Is there stuff you want to know about
me?" he said, venturing out along that delicate limb. 

"You know there is. Are there things you want to tell me?" 

"Sometimes, maybe." He could admit that much. 

"Maybe we can start small." 

"Like...?" 

"Like... What's your favorite movie?" 

"I don't know." Brows drawing together, he thought about that. "Body Heat
was kind of cool." 

"Yeah? What did you like about it?" 

"You mean besides Kathleen Turner being naked?" He smiled at the sharp
nudge in the ribs that got him. "I don't know - it was sexy, and you
didn't know exactly how it was going to come out for a long time, and
there wasn't any kinda fake happy ending." Toby gave him a really
interested look at that, like he might want to pursue that. Preferring not
to just at the moment, Chris said, "So what about you?" 

"It's perfectly acceptable, you know," Toby said like this was something
he might get huffy about, "to enjoy something just because it makes you
feel good." 

"Yeah? So - what, your favorite movie's, like, Mary Poppins?" 

Yep - there it was, that tiny hmph, followed by, "No, it isn't Mary
Poppins." 

"So...?" Chris trailed his fingers down Toby's arm and back again, rubbing
his thumb over the collarbone. 

"You want me to say I've seen Grease a hundred times?" 

"Have you?" 

A deep sigh, then, "Just about, yeah." 

"It's a good movie," Chris said, not quite able to smother his laughter
this time. 

"Mock all you like," Toby replied with a sniff. 

Chris kissed his mouth. "I'd never mock you, baby. What's your favorite
part?" 

"The end, when Olivia Newton John goes after John Travolta and knocks his
socks off." 

It was Chris' turn to give him an interested look, wondering if there
might be some deeper significance there. "When she's wearing the black
leather and stuff?" he said, betting Toby would look like a sin come to
life in tight black leather. 

"Uh-huh." Toby leaned in and kissed him again, pushing the wifebeater
higher. "You're the one that I want," he whispered, smiling. 

Chris laughed outright then, head pressed back into the pillow - the
laughter dying in his throat as he felt Toby's mouth there. "Christ,
Toby..." He reached for him, burying his hands in golden silk as Toby's
mouth feasted on him. Oh Jesus... He groaned as that wicked tongue darted
out at his lips and slipped between them. 

Drawing back, Toby gave him a concerned look, running a gentle hand down
his torso. "Is that all right?" 

"Toby..." Chris gave him a fondly exasperated look. "Yes, it's all right.
I want you to touch me, Toby, I need you to touch me." 

"How?" Toby offered his hand, and Chris looked at it thoughtfully,
clasping it and pressing it to his chest, right over his heart. 

"Here, touch me here," he whispered, a heartfelt sigh escaping as that
golden head bent and Toby's mouth pressed there, giving the nipple an
almost casual lick. 

And like that last night together, it wasn't 9.9 on the Richter Scale sex
- but it was everything Chris needed right then, maybe everything they
both needed. And it was no hardship to just lay back the way Toby wanted
him to, to let Toby finish getting him out of his clothes and then simply
luxuriate in the feeling of Toby's body, just as naked, pressing against
him there on that narrow bed. It was everything he wanted, every brush of
lips and hands telling him how Toby felt, like he had been just as starved
for this. He hoped his own touch said as much. He thought it did. Toby's
body trembling against him, collapsing against him in the aftermath and
not wanting to move for a long time afterward even if they were hot and
wet and sticky - that told Chris as much as words ever could. 

They were together. It couldn't be forever - but it could be enough. 

the end, for now  Please send feedback to Riley Cannon.