Luck of the Draw part 2 of 2

 

 

Lunch proved to be easier than Elliot had anticipated, at least after he got over his battered alpha-male ego and finally relaxed.  In fact he had a lot less trouble swallowing the tasteless prison food than Beecher did, something that left him feeling fairly culpable.  All things considered, his second meal in Oz was a hell of a lot more comfy than the first just knowing someone had his back.

 

That he found Beecher to be good company surprised him.  The man was educated, funny, and quite frankly better looking than most of his contemporaries.  And he obviously cared very deeply for Chris.  Weighing this against the other options Chris might or might not have during his fifty-plus years of incarceration, Elliot approved of his choice in partners and vowed to do whatever he could not to screw up the potential union while he was filling his brother’s boots.  Provided of course that Toby kept his hands to himself until the real Keller returned, otherwise, all bets were off.

 

Other than sitting a little too close, Beecher did behave as he ate.  Clearly happy in spite of his physical discomfort he engaged Elliot in a conversation that ranged from sports to politics to Busmalis’ impending nuptials that had been canceled due to the broken pipe.  

 

Just as Elliot finished his overcooked beef stew Ryan O’Reily sauntered over from the kitchen and took the seat opposite him.  “Hey, nice hickeys,” he told Beecher with a friendly leer.  Toby huffed affably but kept eating.  “I hear you’re gonna see Gloria twice a day now,” Ryan went on in the same tone as he turned to Elliot.

 

“What?  Is it published somewhere?” Elliot asked, totally spooked by the rapid movement of information inside the gray walls.

 

“I also hear you saw her this morning behind closed doors, just the two of you.”

 

Elliot pushed his empty tray back and tried not to show his rising apprehension.  “So?  Being poked and prodded isn’t really my idea of a good time.”

 

“Since when?” Beecher smirked knowingly.  The comment earned him grunts of disgust and irritation from Ryan and Elliot respectively that made him grin even broader.

 

“Look, O’Reily, you still got nothin’ to worry about,” Elliot appeased, sending a sideward glance of exasperation Beecher’s way.  “I got nothin’ but respect for the doc.”

 

Ryan nodded skeptically as he got up.  “You just keep it that way,” he cautioned before stalking off.

 

“Putz,” Toby muttered into his Jell-O as he shoveled it in.  “He keeps forgetting just who in Em City helps him look out

for Cyril.”

 

“Hello, Sweetpea,” a melodic voice crooned from behind causing Toby to tense up as he turned around.  Elliot shifted in his seat to get a look at the balding but trim middle-aged man who was smiling at them benignly.  His blue eyes twinkled with mirth but the two thugs behind him scowled fiercely.

 

“Hi Vern, I thought I smelled shit,” Toby greeted in a tone dripping with contempt.

 

“I see you two are back together.  Isn’t that special?  How are you, Christopher?” the man continued, resting his hand lightly on the back of Elliot’s neck.  “I understand you got your brains scrambled by the FBI.”

 

Beecher slapped the hand back before Elliot could even form the thought to push it away.  

 

“Leave him alone,” Toby warned with a dangerous sneer, showing a decidedly darker side of his personality.  Probably the side that could bite off a man’s dick Elliot thought with a shudder.  

 

“Oh, getting a little possessive, are we?  I thought that was Keller’s gig?”

 

Elliot was certain this unremarkable man was somehow very important to his brother.  He scrambled to remember the details of the impromptu briefing knowing he hadn’t been shown a picture to back up his memory.  Then it came to him.  Vern Schillinger, the neo-Nazi Chris had shared more than a cell with when he should have been going to the prom.  Before he knew what he was doing he was on his feet lunging at the man with a growl of rage.

 

“Chris!” Beecher screamed, grabbing him the around the chest and holding him back with every ounce of his strength.

 

“You bastard!  How the fuck could you do that, you son of a bitch,” Elliot railed at the old man, wishing he had his gun.

 

“Easy there, Keller,” Vern laughed, stepping out of harm’s way.  “Is this a side effect of the brain damage?”

 

“I ought to kill you for what you did to him,” Elliot rasped out hoarsely, struggling until another pair of arms had to help Beecher hold him back.

 

“Keller,” a hack warned as he stepped between the two groups.  “Settle down or you’re going to Ag Seg.”

 

“Chris,” Toby begged in his ear.  “Let it go, it’s over.”

 

“Move along,” the hack instructed, wielding his nightstick threateningly to the gathering crowd as Chris stopped fighting and gasped for breath.  

 

“See ya, Beechball,” Vern called over his shoulder as he strolled away, taking his entourage with him.  “Bye-bye, Chrissy.  Thanks for the entertainment.”

 

The next thing Elliot knew he was being pushed back into his seat.  He dazedly accepted the bottle of juice that appeared under his nose and realized Ryan had a firm grip on one bicep while Beecher squatted next to him and rubbed a soothing hand up and down the other.  Cyril hovered expectantly, ready to take someone out at the drop of a hat as Halstead stood on the periphery looking just plain scared to death.

 

“I said break it up,” the guard repeated.  “Keller, you really need to calm down because you’ve got a visitor.”

 

Ryan slapped Elliot on the shoulder in the universal ‘hey, man, I love ya’ gesture and reluctantly pulled Cyril back to the kitchen with him.  Beecher shooed Dwayne away but didn’t budge himself as the table slowly began to empty.

 

“The warden sent me to get you,” the hack proclaimed impatiently.

 

Elliot chugged the contents of the little juice bottle then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  “Send ‘em away.  I don’t want to see anybody,” he murmured.

 

“It’s not your call.  A police detective came all the way from New York City to see you and Warden Glynn says you have to.”

 

“A policeman?” Elliot questioned dumbly, his brain still not quite functioning after his outburst.  “Not the FBI?”

 

“No.  And it’s a policewoman, actually,” the hack supplied with a grin.  “She’s a real looker from what I hear.  From the NYPD’s Special Victims Unit no less.”

 

“The sex police?” Toby asked.

 

“Jesus,” Elliot sighed, closing his eyes.  He wasn’t sure if he should be thrilled or pissed off but one thing was certain, he really, really wanted to see Olivia.  Staggering to his feet he motioned for the hack to lead the way then followed without looking back.

 

Toby stared after them for a minute then gathered both trays and took them to the trashcan where Ryan inexplicably appeared next to him.  “I don’t know,” Toby said quickly before O’Reily could start in with the questions, keeping his suspicions to himself.

 

***

 

While it was true that Elliot had been in enough detention centers to recognize an interrogation room, from antiquated and decrepit to sleek and modern, he’d never anticipated seeing one from the point of view of a detainee.  He wasn’t surprised to find how much he preferred the experience from the other side.  The fact that the guard brought him here instead of to the visitor area was telling.  Even if he wanted to strangle her, he knew Benson had not compromised his cover.  To any casual observer she was just a cop doing her job and he was the con she had come to interview.  

 

The blinds were closed when they entered the room and Olivia stood next to the table trying not to gape at him.  “You can go,” she told the hack with as much indifference as she could muster.  

 

The guard glanced at Elliot before backing out of the room with an unconcerned shrug.  “Yeah, sure.  I’ll be right out here.”

 

As soon as the door was closed they went to each other, Elliot enveloping Olivia in a hesitant hug, trying not to let on just how glad he was to see her.  “What are you doing here?” he asked roughly without letting go.

 

“Cragen sent me,” Olivia breathed into his shoulder, keeping her eyes closed as she clutched him back.  “We heard about the delay and we don’t trust that Fuller knows what he’s doing.  But we wanted to check with you before we stir up any trouble.  Are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine,” Elliot muttered unconvincingly as he released her and held her at arms length so he could see her face.  “It’s only for another day or two.  I can do it.”

 

“Elliot… are you sure?  You look like hell.”

 

“Thanks,” Elliot responded with an amused snort.  “I just need some sleep.  They woke me up every two hours last night.  Doctor Nathan was really worried when I told her it was Keller’s notoriously hard head that hit me.”

 

“You broke your cover?”

 

Elliot shook his head.  “Not exactly.  She had already busted me by then.  Apparently Chris has a couple of scars on his back that she feels kind of proprietary about.  Fuller brought her in the rest of the way.  I trust her.”

 

“You’re sure?”

 

“I’m positive.  She cares enough about Chris not to rat me out.  So how’s he doing?”

 

“He’s fine except for the hole he’s digging for himself with the FBI,” Olivia reported unhappily.  “He threatened to kill both Fuller and Taylor if they don’t stop this operation.”

 

“He’s just blowing off steam.”

 

“I’m not so sure.  I don’t know what he’ll do if something happens to you.  Seriously, partner, you’re looking a little rough around the edges.  And I think it’s more than a lack of sleep.”

 

“I admit I might be a little stressed,” Elliot replied as he pulled Olivia over to the table.  “It’s nothing a good nap wouldn’t cure.  Come on, take a load off.  You can stay for a few minutes, right?”

 

“I’m in no hurry to get back.  And the way I look at it, the longer you’re in here with me the less time you have to spend on the block with them,” Olivia reasoned as she took a chair.  “With the plan on hold it’s not like you’ll miss anything.”

 

“That’s true,” Elliot agreed, feeling worlds better just not having to pretend to be someone else.  “You must really miss me to drive all this way,” he teased.

 

“You forget I’ve been hanging out with your carbon copy.  It’s almost like you never left.”

 

Elliot managed a weary smile.  “Yeah, you probably know him better than I do by now.  What’s he really like?”

 

Olivia shrugged and paused to ponder the question for a minute.  “He’s like you in a lot of ways,” she finally answered.  “Only… sexy.”

 

“What?” Elliot huffed in surprise.  “I’m not sexy?”

 

“I don’t know, Elliot,” Olivia winced.  “We have to work together; I try not to think of you that way.”

 

“So you’ve got the hots for my brother.”

 

“God no,” Olivia denied a little too quickly.  “He’s just… well he… I don’t know how else to put it.  He’s very sensual.”

 

“I’ll just take your word on that,” Elliot replied before he reluctantly asked his next question, one professional to another.  “Do you like him as a rapist?”

 

“No, I don’t,” Olivia answered truthfully.  “Chris’ game is seduction.  It’s all about making someone want him.  That’s where he gets off, having the upper hand emotionally.”

 

“So he actually is a sexual predator of a sort.”

 

“I didn’t say that,” Olivia hedged.  “But he is a charmer.  I’m just saying he makes it really easy to fall in love with him.”

 

“Oh?” Elliot questioned, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Four ex-wives,” Olivia responded holding up four fingers.  “Well, three, but there’s gotta be something about him if one of them married him twice.”

 

“Right.”  Elliot stared her down for a minute then stifled a huge yawn.

 

“Am I boring you?”

 

“Not at all.  This is just the most relaxed I’m been since I got here.”

 

Olivia nodded and got up.  “I’ve got an idea,” she said as she went to the door and opened it, holding a brief conversation with the hack in the hall.

 

“What?” Elliot questioned as she closed the door again.

 

“I just ask him to make sure we’re not disturbed for the next forty-five minutes.”

 

“Okay.  Why?”

 

“Come on,” Olivia encouraged as she moved to the wall and sat down on the floor.  “Get over here,” she added with a long-suffering sigh when he didn’t budge.

 

Elliot finally shuffled to his feet but stood over her uncertainly when he got to the wall.

 

“I want you to rest undisturbed for a few minutes before I have to go,” Olivia explained, patting her lap. “I’ve got your back.”

 

“That’s a given,” Elliot said gratefully, grunting as he got down on the floor next to her.  He balked slightly when she tugged his head to rest on her thigh but he trusted her and gave in to his exhaustion.  “This is weird,” he muttered as he got comfortable.

 

“Shut up, Stabler,” Olivia said affectionately as she rubbed his shoulder in small circles in an attempt to get him to loosen up.  Several minutes later she was rewarded with soft snores.  She checked her watch and passed the time by mentally breaking down their current cases; hoping inspiration might strike on one of them while she watched over her partner.  

 

***

 

Beecher kept his eyes on the gate as he dealt the cards.  He’d made an excuse to leave work early but Sister Pete had seen right through him.  That she’d let him go anyway only increased his concern.  If Pete was worried about Keller, too, it was worse than he’d originally thought.  And now, hours later, Chris was still conspicuously absent from Em City after not showing up to dinner at all.

 

The buzzing gossip mill didn’t help Toby’s state of mind any either.  Chris’ odd behavior had not gone unnoticed and prisoners and staff alike weren’t quite satisfied with the simple head injury explanation.  Even Toby had doubts.  Nothing stayed secret in Oz for long and he’d already received a few not-so-subtle inquiries from people who normally didn’t give a rat’s ass about Chris Keller.  Even Pancamo had expressed an opinion that ‘something is hinky’.  The rumors ran the gamut from conspiracy theories to abduction by space aliens to the less outlandish and far more frightening idea that Chris had been raped while out visiting with the FBI.  

 

That one, Toby hated to admit, actually made a peculiar sort of sense.  It certainly explained a lot of things.  Including why a sex crimes detective had come for a confidential interview that had dragged on much longer than it should have.  And why Chris had been found cuddled up in the female cop’s lap when the hack finally busted in on them.  The word that came down from the guard tower said the policewoman had been extremely protective and had insisted on going to the infirmary with Chris when they’d had trouble waking him.

 

“Yo!  Beecher, I said three,” Hill’s voice finally broke into Toby’s troubled thoughts.

 

“I heard you,” Toby lied as he counted out the cards and slid them along the table.  “I hope you choke on that pair.”

 

“Easy, that’s the only pair Hill’s got,” O’Reily taunted, taking a swig of bottled water the prison had so thoughtfully provided.

 

“Fuck you, O’Reily.”

 

“Fuck me?  Fuck you, ya fucking freak of nature.  You know, you’re really starting to stink.”

 

“How can you tell?  Your ass don’t smell like roses either.”

 

“This whole place is a sea of body odor,” Toby added his complaint, pondering why so many people had chosen to go to the gym knowing they couldn’t shower afterwards.

 

“Pee-yoo,” Cyril wholeheartedly agreed without glancing up from his magazine.

 

“Yeah, we’re gonna have to hose Hill off in the yard if we don’t get the water back on soon,” O’Reily grumbled.

 

“Fucking mick.”

 

Toby huffed as he studied his cards apathetically and let the ruthless banter wash over him, wondering just when half-felt insults had become comforting and normal.  He wondered if normal even applied to anything about Oz.  When he looked up again all thought stopped.

 

“Shit,” Hill exclaimed as he followed Toby’s line of sight to the gate.  “We lost Beecher.  Wanna play gin, O’Reily?”

 

“Fuck no,” Ryan muttered, tossing his cards into the middle of the table as he, too, turned to stare along with everyone else.

 

Keller looked surprisingly well as he sauntered past the tables on his way to the stairs, refreshed somehow.  He also looked like he’d recently bathed and shaved.

 

“How the fuck did you manage a shower?” O’Reily spat out irritably.

 

“Well they got water in the infirmary,” Chris supplied with a shit-eating grin, pausing to stand between the O’Reily brothers’ chairs, directly across from Toby.

 

“Hi Cwris,” Cyril greeted.

 

“Hey, Cyril.  How you doin’, buddy?” Chris asked as he affectionately patted the other man on the shoulder in a very un-Keller-like gesture.

 

Cyril beamed under the attention but everyone else at the table gawked.

 

“What?” Chris asked, dropping his hand warily.

 

O’Reily leered.  “You’re in a good mood.”

 

“So?”

 

“Got your wick dipped, huh?  By that lady cop?”

 

Keller’s grin faltered slightly as he glanced Toby’s way but then came back full force.  “I don’t kiss and tell,” he jeered as he turned to go.

 

“Fuck!” O’Reily swore enviously as he got up.  “Fucking fag gets all the pussy.”

 

“Kiss my ass,” Chris snarled, whirling back around and getting in Ryan’s face.  “Maybe it wasn’t the cop.”

 

“Back the fuck up, K-boy.  You’d better not even be looking at Gloria,” O’Reily warned dangerously as he kicked his chair away.

 

Cyril whimpered as he dropped his magazine and jumped to his feet.  Clearly distressed by the confrontation, he put himself right in the middle of it.  

 

“Its okay, Cyril,” Chris soothed, “We’re just fucking with each other.”  He glared at Ryan once more before walking away.

 

Having been almost completely ignored, again, Toby just sat and watched Keller go before gathering the cards and shuffling them.  “Who’s in?” he asked tersely.

 

“Who are you trying to kid?” Hill smirked.  “If you’re not up in Keller’s pod in the next five minutes I’ll eat my footrest.”

 

Ryan snorted his agreement before stalking off with Cyril following diffidently along behind him.  Toby dropped his head and sighed.

 

“Go on,” Hill urged.  “You’re the only one who can get close enough to find out what really happened.  Besides, he didn’t fuck anybody.  Robots don’t have dicks,” he mocked.

 

“Trust me,” Beecher told him wryly as he got up and handed over the cards, “This one is anatomically correct.”

 

“For real?” someone asked from the next table over.

 

Toby shook his head in amazement as he took off after Chris to a chorus of catcalls.  As always, everyone knew exactly where he was going but he didn’t really give a shit.  Something was going to give, one way or the other.  When he reached his temporary home Chris was talking to Dwayne.  

 

“You gotta stay aware of your surroundings,” Chris scolded with what appeared to be real concern as he examined Halstead’s blossoming black eye.  “Things change around here too damn fast to get complacent.”

 

Dwayne nodded.  “Yeah, yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.  Thanks.”  

 

They both looked up at Toby just as McManus’ voice came over the loudspeaker. “Listen up.  The water will be turned back on in a couple of minutes.  We’re gonna hold off on lockdown long enough for everyone to get a shower, you people reek.” Cheers erupted from all around and Em City burst into activity.  

 

“Yeah, you really do,” Chris teased his roommates, his good mood resurfacing.

 

Toby stared at him distrustfully.

 

“Quiet!” McManus went on louder to be heard over the rising cacophony.  “Showers will be limited to three minutes and there will be COs present to head off any bullshit.  You can shave in your pods afterwards.  Anyone causing trouble will be provided with luxurious accommodations in the hole for the next week.  Please proceed in an orderly fashion.  That is all.”  

 

Dwayne bit his lip as he longingly glanced down at the rush of bodies already heading for the shower room.  

 

“You might as well,” Chris encouraged.  “With guards present it’ll probably be the safest shower you’ll ever take at Oz.”

 

“What about you?” Dwayne asked hopefully.

 

“Nah, I’m good.”

 

“Okay,” Dwayne muttered unhappily, still hanging on to the hope of gaining a protector.  He undressed and wrapped a towel around his waist before grabbing his soap and leaving.  Meanwhile Toby stood wordlessly by the door with his arms crossed over his chest.

 

“Aren’t you just Chatty Kathy tonight?” Chris commented as he located a clean, long sleeved shirt.

 

“You missed dinner,” Toby said quietly.

 

“Nathan got me a tray while I was in the infirmary.”

 

“Was that before or after your private shower?”

 

“After,” Chris replied, giving Toby an assessing look.

 

“What’s really going on, Chris?”

 

Chris paused as he grabbed the bottom edge of his wifebeater.  “What do you mean?  Toby?” he pressed when he didn’t get an answer.

 

“Toby,” Beecher echoed cynically.

 

“What?”

 

“Before your memory problem you hadn’t called me Toby since…”

 

“Whoa, we had a deal,” Chris butted in a little too hastily, releasing his shirt to hold up his hands as if warding off Toby’s words.

 

“You call me Beecher or Beech or bitch, but you hardly ever call me Toby anymore.”

 

“I used to, though, right?” Chris asked cautiously.  “Back before… whatever.”

 

“Back before I accused you of killing my child.  Yes.”

 

As the air rushed out of his lungs Chris fell against the wall for support.  “I didn’t…” he stammered, his face suddenly pale.

 

“God, no!” Toby hastened to assure him.  “Schillinger set you up.  Nevertheless, I should have known you had nothing to do with it.  I don’t blame you for feeling betrayed.  After all, I did try to kill you.  But I was out of my mind with grief; they sent me my son’s hand before they killed him for Christ sake.”

 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Chris managed through his shock, his eyes suspiciously bright.  “Parents should not have to outlive their children.”

 

“Part of me died with him,” Toby said with a sniff, stunned by Chris’ grasp of that particular concept as he wiped at his eye with the back of his hand.

 

“Beecher…”

 

“Oh, it’s Beecher again.”

 

Chris dropped his head back and looked at the ceiling with a sigh of frustration.  “What should I call you then?”

 

“Look, people are talking about you.  Just stop trying to do what you think everyone expects and be yourself.  And don’t tell me you don’t remember how.”

 

“Fuck you, Beecher,” Chris growled, ripping his shirt off and tossing it into his footlocker as he moved back into the center of the pod.  “Is that better?” he asked sarcastically as he turned to face him.

 

As Toby dipped his head dolefully he found himself staring at Chris’ perfect right pec. Hiding a gasp as he turned away to clutch at the glass, he choked back a hysterical laugh.  With all the talk of aliens and robots and ironically, pod people, how fucking ridiculous, how fucking wrong was it that Chris’ ugly red gunshot scar had also mysteriously disappeared.  Nobody healed that well.  Nobody.

 

“I’m sorry, Toby,” Chris sighed again, his voice sounding slightly muffled as he pulled the fresh shirt over his head.  “I just don’t know what you want from me.”

 

Almost overcome with panic, Toby panted slightly as he tried to calm himself down.  He’d already seen Chris naked since he got back, but he hadn’t noticed anything then except for the other missing scars.  Thinking back, Chris had been far too reticent in the shower, carefully keeping his back turned just so.  That should have been enough to trigger some warning bells.  Of course he’d been a bit preoccupied at the time trying to score a kiss, especially when they’d stood face to face.  

 

Since he didn’t believe in aliens or robots, conspiracy seemed the next best bet.  He didn’t know why or how, but he did know the man behind him was not the man he loved.  Suddenly furious, he put a lid on his tumultuous emotions and slowly turned back around to face his very own Stepford Keller.  

 

Knowing made all the difference as he scrutinized the charlatan.  The navy thermal fit in all the right places, hiding the sins of omission.  But the bewildered facial expression was off, inquisitive and analytical where it should have been rigid and irate.  There was a haunted quality to the eyes, like someone who cared too much, too often and got burned, not the self-possessed passion of a predator.  How could he have looked into those eyes and ever thought this man was Chris?  How could he prove he wasn’t?

 

“Kiss me,” Toby demanded suddenly, placing his body between the imposter and the door.

 

“No,” came the uneasy answer.

 

“One kiss and I’ll never bother you again,” Toby goaded with a wicked smile, knowing he’d already won; beat the con man’s con.

 

“Fuck off.”  

 

The fear was back, Toby could smell it as he leisurely advanced.  It made him bolder, more confident in his analysis.  Right up until the man stood his ground and refused to back away.  In anger the face transformed back into something more familiar, more… Keller.  

 

Toby hesitated, tipping his hand and letting his certain victory slip through his fingers.  “Who are you?” he asked with barely any breath behind the words.  

 

An instant later the tables were turned as he was shoved against the wall and his lips were claimed in a savage kiss, not in ardor but desperation.  Wrong, wrong, wrong, Toby thought as he bucked, wrenching his head away.  Hard fingers grasped his chin roughly and the mouth was back, even more demanding.  With his throat still smarting from the last attack Toby stilled and allowed the invasion of tongue and teeth.  

 

As soon as he stopped fighting the assault came to an abrupt end as the aggressor attempted to flee.  But Toby captured the man’s head and pulled him back, slowing and gentling the kiss, controlling it.  Once again, he had the upper hand and used it to his advantage.  As far as Toby was concerned, Chris Keller was the best kisser on the planet.  Though not bad, Toby doubted this mouth had ever touched another man’s lips intimately.  He sought to remedy that even as he catalogued the discrepancies.

 

The taste was somehow different, the tentative style and pressure was wrong, the motionless hands that rested firmly on either side of Toby’s head while keeping their bodies apart were laughable … everything was off.  When he loosened his hold and pulled back breathlessly, the illusion of Chris was dispelled.  “Who are you?” he asked again with the strength of his conviction.

 

The now seemingly unfamiliar features fell making it obvious he’d thought for a second that he’d actually fooled him.  “What the fuck are you talking about?” the stranger asked softly as he wiped his mouth and tried to slow his respirations, never quite meeting Toby’s eyes as he moved away.  

 

When Toby followed, he flinched.  “It’s okay,” Beecher soothed deceitfully.  He reached out and grasped the hem of the dark Henley and tugged it off, surprised the man didn’t fight him.  “Chris was shot in the chest not that long ago,” he explained, fingering the smooth skin.

 

“Stabbed and shot,” the look-a-like cringed, giving up the masquerade as he pushed the hand away.  “Jesus.”

 

“Is Keller okay?” Toby questioned, comforted to see how much the other man seemed to care.

 

“Yeah, he’s uh, in an FBI safehouse busy trying to charm my partner.”

 

“So that was the woman who came to see you,” Toby mused as he sorted it out in his head.  “So you’re a cop then.”

 

“A dead cop?”

 

A harsh rap on the glass startled both of them and halted the conversation as they turned to watch Murphy enter the pod.  “Fucking or fighting?” he inquired as he leaned against the doorframe.

 

“What?” Toby asked as he handed Chris’ shirt back over to the man who’d been wearing it, watching as he quickly turned his tell-tale chest away from Murphy to put it on.

 

“Me and McManus have a bet since we didn’t see either one of you in line for the showers.  I said you were off somewhere fucking.  He said fighting.  So which is it?”

 

“Fighting,” the make-believe Chris blurted out, noticeably uncomfortable with the other option.

 

“Fucking,” Toby disagreed with an evil glint in his eye.

 

Murphy harrumphed.  “Either way I ought to separate you.  But seeing as how they won’t have the floor fixed until sometime tomorrow, I’ll let it slide this time.  Right now get your asses down to the showers, both of you.”

 

“I cleaned up when I was in the infirmary.”

 

“Dammit, Keller, I knew you was takin’ advantage,” Murphy grumbled.  “I’m gonna have a talk with Doc Nathan about that.  Come on, Beecher.  Grab a towel and your rubber ducky.”

 

Toby shot an unreadable look at his unidentified podmate as he quickly shucked out of his clothes.  The man didn’t glance off the way Murphy did, but he didn’t ogle him like Chris would have either.  “What are you going to do?” he asked Toby with barely concealed worry.

 

“I don’t know yet,” Toby said coldly as he shrugged out the door past Murphy, smirking as he felt the intense stare that followed him.

 

***

 

Elliot returned Murphy’s puzzled glance with a detached one of his own but as soon as the CO disappeared from the doorway he let out the breath he had been holding.  Practically collapsing against the top bunk, he wiped his mouth again.  It had been a huge gamble kissing Beecher and he’d lost spectacularly.  Worse, Toby had known the whole time that he wasn’t really Chris and it had all been for nothing.  He wished he’d gone with his first instinct and knocked the little shit out and hid him in a stairwell instead.

 

Pushing away from the bed, he made his way to the glass wall to stare down into the common area.  Toby soon came into view and looked right up at him as if he had known all along he would be there.  Elliot held his gaze for a minute then turned away to pace the pod.  The man literally held his life in his hands; he didn’t want to antagonize him.  Half expecting to be accosted by a mob of angry prisoners any minute, Elliot rolled into the bottom bunk to think.  

 

If things got too rocky he could follow the plan and fake a seizure to get sent to the relative safety of the infirmary.  He trusted Nathan completely and now she had a direct line to Olivia.  Seeing his partner had done wonders for his morale and the nice, safe nap had taken the edge off as well, even if he’d had a difficult time coming out of it.  He’d played it down and lied about his ever present headache, but Nathan was still concerned.  If he played the wrong card she would pull the plug.  

 

And then there was Murphy.  He seemed like a standup guy who would do whatever he could to help a brother in blue but he was probably also loyal to a fault.  He wouldn’t sit on the information without going to McManus, who would almost certainly go to the warden.  However since Fuller had been so adamant that someone in admin was on the take he’d keep that option as fallback.  

 

But he still had a job to do and didn’t want to bug out until he knew what Beecher was up to.  Toby had once been a productive member of society, if you set aside the fact that he had not only been a lawyer but also a drunk.  Maybe he could be reasoned with.  He hadn’t shouted ‘cop’ yet and he genuinely cared about Chris.  Elliot was sure that was the key so he did the only thing he could do without blowing the operation.  He waited for Beecher to return.

 

***

 

Having stayed at the prison longer than she’d intended, once she hit the city Olivia drove straight to the safehouse.  Seeing Elliot alive and allegedly well had been a huge relief and the doctor had promised to do her best to look after her stubborn partner.  She was still far from appeased but he had been adamant, he wanted to continue in spite of the setback.  Chris was not going to take the news well.

 

The thought of Chris did something funny but not entirely unwelcome to her stomach.  She had to admit to a certain amount of… interest.  And it was getting harder and harder to chalk it up to his semblance to Elliot.  In fact it was the differences that intrigued her most; the blatant flirtation, the way he undressed her with his eyes.  The way he’d undressed in front of her with utter abandon, daring her to enjoy it.  And God help her, on some level she had.

 

The ultimate bad boy versus the honorable hero, if she could combine the two and keep the physical package she knew she’d have the perfect man.  And if wishes were horses beggars would ride she thought with a degree of melancholy that surprised her.  Nevertheless, she allowed her mind to go places with Chris on the long trip back that had always been strictly off limits with her partner.  But now, standing on the outside looking in she found it hard to switch off the feelings those images had fostered.  

 

“Let me in,” she finally told the guard after ten minutes of watching Chris lounge on the cot thumbing through a magazine.

 

“Hey, gorgeous,” Chris greeted when she entered the cell.  He dropped the two year old copy of Newsweek to the floor as he sat up.  “I was just about to give up on you.”

 

“Yeah, uh… feel like a smoke?”

 

“You bet,” Chris replied, glancing at the mirrored wall.  “Hey, how ‘bout a cigarette break?” he called out before turning back to Olivia.  “They’ll have to clear it with the head dickweed, what’s his name… Fuller.  You must have worked hard today.”

 

“Actually, I hardly worked,” Olivia replied as she stood near the table trying to look like she hadn’t been recently fantasizing about him.  “Sorry I’m so late.  Did you get something to eat?”

 

“Sure, but the company was lousy,” Chris flirted as he sidled up to her, touching her elbow.  There was a thump on the glass and he smiled and waved.  “Speak of the devil.”  The buzzer sounded a second later and two agents came in.  “This is Eddie and that’s Frank,” Chris introduced as he assumed the position without prompting.  

 

“I’m Special Agent Edwards and that’s Special Agent Franks,” Eddie corrected insipidly as if the joke was getting old.

 

Olivia stood out of the way while Chris was thoroughly frisked.  “Yeah, baby,” Chris grunted obnoxiously as Franks patted down his front pockets, giving the routine procedure a gratuitously sexual slant.  Another image Olivia didn’t really need popping into her head at the moment.  She glanced away, deciding to impart the basic information and get the hell out of Dodge before she embarrassed herself.

 

Franks glared at an amused Chris and cuffed his hands behind his back roughly.

 

“Ladies first,” Chris offered with a smile as the agents flanked him.  Olivia gladly led the way and several minutes later they passed through the kitchen and out onto the porch.  

 

Franks unlocked Keller’s right hand and snapped the freed up end of the cuffs around the handrail.  “Fuller said fifteen minutes and then its bedtime for Bonzo.”

 

“It’s not even dark yet,” Chris complained, accepting a new pack of cigarettes and the lighter from Edwards.

 

“It will be by the time we go back in.”

 

“Why don’t you boys buzz off so I can talk to the lady,” Chris requested, frowning when the agents didn’t immediately jump.  “Seriously, Eddie, you’re cutting into my action here.”

 

“Like you stand a snowball’s chance,” Franks scoffed as he moved away.

 

“Behave yourself, Keller,” Edwards cautioned humorlessly before heading to the opposite side of the yard to stand by the gate.

 

“Liv,” Chris said as he held out the pack.  “Hold these for a sec, would ya?”

 

“What did you call me?” Olivia asked in surprise as she took the cigarettes from him.

 

“Uh… Liv. What?  You don’t like that?”

 

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s just… that’s what Elliot calls me.”

 

“Huh.  Stand back,” he advised as he stuck the lighter in his front pocket and placed both hands on the rail to vault over it, landing gracefully in the grass beside the steps.

 

“Keller!”

 

“What?  I’m right here.  I still can’t go anywhere,” Chris retorted as he twisted out and away from the chain then pulled it back towards the door and down to where it connected to the porch.  “There,” he said as he settled sideways under the handrail on the middle step, fairly comfortable with his arm out to the side instead of hanging over his head.  He turned to Olivia and patted the low stone wall around the flower bed that ran parallel to the house, shrugging his eyebrows suggestively.

 

Olivia smirked as she came over to sit catty-corner to him in the shadows.  She handed him the cigarettes which he deposited on the top step as he deliberately moved his leg until their knees were touching.  “Don’t blow our cover,” he advised with a wink as he laced the fingers of his free hand through hers.

 

“Chris,” Olivia started to protest, a little disconcerted by the strong, warm hand.

 

“So.  What did you want to tell me that you don’t want Fuller to know?” he questioned quietly.

 

“Oh, uh,” Olivia stammered as she got her mind back on business.  “I went to Oz today to interview a prisoner.”

 

Chris blinked at the unexpected news. “Anyone I know?” he asked evenly.

 

“Mmm hmm.  He says he’s fine.”

 

“He’s a fucking liar.”

 

Olivia sighed and readied herself for the coming explosion.  “He doesn’t want us to terminate the operation.  It’s still a go.”

 

“Goddammit,” Chris boomed in frustration, drawing the attention of the guards.  “Fuck!”

 

“We’re okay,” Olivia appeased as she pulled her hand out of Chris’ grasp and stood up to show that there really wasn’t a problem.

 

“It doesn’t look like you’re smoking to me,” Franks noted as he came closer anyway.  “You can talk inside.”

 

Chris grabbed the pack and used his teeth to open it.  “Happy now?” he asked as he irritably shoved a cigarette into his mouth.  

 

He stood up to fish the lighter out of his pants and in his haste accidentally brushed his forearm against Olivia’s backside.  “Sorry,” he apologized with a lopsided grin around the filter as he retook his seat.  

 

Olivia eyed him skeptically but didn’t comment as she sat a bit further away this time.  Franks watched him light up then shook his head and went back to the fence.

 

“Cocksucker,” Chris muttered darkly as he blew out the first lungful of smoke.  “Sorry,” he told Olivia again as he tried to drive away the tendrils of gray that curled towards her with the hand that still held the cigarette.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Olivia replied, trying not to cough.  “How do you know I’m not a closet smoker?”

 

Chris studied her attentively as he took another deep drag then turned his head away to release the smoke slowly through his mouth.  “I smelled you,” he finally drawled as he moved the cigarette to his cuffed hand and reached for her again.  “The first time we met.  Your scent is too fresh to have such a nasty habit.”  

 

Against her better judgment Olivia willingly slid her hand into his, for once not seeing her partner as she watched Chris watching her in the fading light.  The intensity of the stare was exhilarating, intoxicating in its fervor.  It made her feel like she was the only woman on Earth.  She swallowed expectantly as he gently tugged her forward.  When he leaned towards her she parted her lips, breathing through her mouth in anticipation of a moment she’d spent far too much time imagining on the drive back from Oz.

 

“We’ve got to get him out of there,” Chris said in a low voice instead of moving in for the projected kiss.

 

“He doesn’t want us to do anything,” Olivia argued as she tried to pull back, unnerved by the force of her disappointment.

 

“Shh,” Chris soothed, caressing her cheek with their entwined hands.  “There are a million and one ways he can get caught and we sure as hell haven’t thought of them all.”

 

“If we interfere he’ll never forgive us,” Olivia insisted.  “I respect him too much to go against his wishes.

 

“I can live with that,” Chris swore softly, extending a finger to stroke her lip.  “I can’t live with Elliot’s death.  He’s the only family I’ve got.”

 

“Stop playing me,” Olivia blurted out as she jerked away from his touch.

 

“What?”

 

“You’re trying to manipulate me,” she accused, angry at him, angrier at herself for falling for it.  “You think if you hold my hand and whisper in my ear I’ll do whatever you want.”

 

“Just because I want what’s right for my brother doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you, too,” Chris placated, hitting closer to the truth than Olivia wanted to admit.

 

“Well I’ve got news for you,” Olivia said coldly, “We’re not going to be together.  Ever.  Not in any sense of the word.”

 

“No?” Chris asked with a cynical smile.

 

“You can make book on it.”

 

“So you weren’t just sitting there waiting for me to kiss you?”

 

Olivia felt her face flush.  “You arrogant prick.  If you really believe that you probably think I’m going to sit around and wait for you to get out of prison, too.”

 

“We both know I’m gonna be rotting in Oz for the next fifty years.  Gravity will have my balls halfway to my knees by then if I live that long.  I’m not thinking about forever, Liv.  I’m only thinking of this very minute.  It’s all I’ve got.”

 

“I don’t want to hear it,” Olivia warned.

 

“This may just be a bonus I haven’t earned, but it’s the last time I’ll ever sit at dusk with a beautiful woman and watch the stars.”

 

“The stars aren’t out yet,” Olivia pointed out sullenly as her resentment waned under the weight of his poignant tone.

 

“That’s what you think,” Chris whispered as he gazed into her eyes.  When he leaned in again she pulled away.

 

“Good night, Chris,” Olivia sighed as she stood, exhausted by the emotional tug of war between her desire and her common sense.

 

Chris tightened his grip on her hand.  “Get him out, Liv.”

 

“No.” She refused to be baited again.  “Try to have a little faith.”

 

He let her go and reached for his cigarette that had burned down almost to the butt.  “Right,” he mocked as he took a final puff before crushing the ember out in the grass between his feet.  “Faith comes so easy for me.”

 

Olivia started to go but hesitated as he flipped out another smoke.  When he looked up at her she bent to buss his forehead.  Before he could comment on her change of heart she pressed her lips to his.  He dropped the unlit cigarette and buried his hand in her hair as she let him take the kiss as deep as he wanted.

 

“Keller!” Edwards shouted, already rushing towards them to protect her.

 

Breaking contact with a gasp, Olivia turned to shield Chris from any possible repercussions.  “Take it easy.  I kissed him.”

 

“Why?” The breathless question came from Chris.

 

“Because I wanted to,” Olivia answered honestly, still tasting the smoke on her tongue.  “Just this once.”

 

“It’s time for you to go, Detective,” Edwards ordered, obviously confused by the confession.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Olivia told Chris as she trotted up the steps and went into the house without looking back.

 

“What the fuck was that all about?” Franks asked when the door slammed shut behind her.

 

Chris shrugged as he located his fallen cigarette and lit it.  He gazed up solemnly as the first few stars began to twinkle overhead.

 

***

 

“What a madhouse that was,” Dwayne began timidly when he returned from the showers. His still dripping hair gave testament to the speed at which he had returned to the pod.

 

In spite of his own worries Elliot couldn’t stop himself from inquiring, “Did anyone bother you?” He knew he wasn’t responsible for the safety of his hapless cellmate but he was finding ‘to protect and to serve’ was not something he could simply shut off.  

 

“No, it was okay.”

 

“Good.” Elliot propped his hands behind his head and studied the toe of Chris’ boot as Dwayne puttered around the pod in his towel and prepared to shave.

 

“It’s funny,” Dwayne went on, still treading lightly but obviously eager for a conversation that didn’t involve threats of bodily harm.

 

“What’s that?”

 

“It’s like everyone down there is giddy or something,” Dwayne explained as he slathered shaving cream on his light beard. “Like an extra hour not locked up in a glass cage makes any difference in a five to ten year stint.  Or a lifetime.”

 

Elliot shrugged as he stared pensively down toward dwindling line in front of the shower room.  “It’s a break in the routine.  That can be precious when every day is the same.”

 

“I guess I didn’t think of it that way,” Dwayne said as he started to shave.  “You’re not at all what I expected,” he added quietly without turning around.  “You’re smart.  And you’re the only person here who’s even tried to be nice to me in this hell hole.”

 

“Dwayne,” Elliot sighed culpably. “Don’t expect too much, okay?  You can’t rely on me; you’ve got to learn to stand up for yourself.”

 

“I know.  I just wanted to say thanks.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Elliot mumbled.  “Maybe I’ll find time tomorrow to show you some self defense moves.”

 

“Really?” Dwayne asked in amazement, finally daring a look over his shoulder.

 

“Sure,” Elliot said soberly, wishing he could do more.  They grew quiet as Dwayne finished up at the sink.

 

“Count!” Murphy yelled a few minutes later from the guard station.

 

While Dwayne put on some clothes, Elliot rolled off his bed and ambled out to the landing to rest his forearms on the rail.  He spotted Beecher among the last few stragglers from the showers and followed his movement across the quad.  A cold fear settled in his gut as Toby looked up at him and smiled wickedly.  When Dwayne came out to stand next to him Elliot used it as an excuse to break the uncomfortable eye contact and turned to him to make small talk.  Toby arrived several minutes later and squeezed in between them still wearing nothing but a towel and a conspiratory grin.

 

Elliot leaned in close.  “What did you decide?” he asked, but Toby’s only answer was a dangerous chuckle that set the hair on the back of Elliot’s neck on end.  Making an abrupt decision, Elliot straightened and called to the approaching hack “I need to speak to Murphy.  Now.”

 

“Relax,” Toby advised toning his gleeful expression down to a smirk.

 

“Can’t it wait ‘til tomorrow?” the hack asked with an annoyed scowl.

 

“Yes,” Toby answered.  “It can wait.”

 

“Shut up, Beecher, I’m talking to your boyfriend.”

 

“It can wait,” Toby assured seriously, addressing Elliot directly this time.  “I swear.”

 

“Yeah, it can wait,” Elliot backed down reluctantly.

 

“Gee, that’s swell, Keller.”  Unconcerned with the dramatics and already behind, the hack began count.  “97B412…”

 

As their numbers were called and the CO moved on the prisoners peeled off to go into their pods.  Elliot headed straight to the back wall and crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against it, never taking his eyes off Beecher who hummed maddeningly to himself as he gathered his clothes.  

 

Oblivious to the tension, Dwayne grabbed a book and climbed up to his bunk.  “I’ve got to admit, I feel a lot better after taking a shower.”

 

“You should try it more often, Stone,” Toby taunted as he pulled on a pair of boxers.  “Your smelly ass kept me awake last night.”

 

“Leave him alone,” Elliot grumbled as he jumped to the underdog’s defense, unwittingly using the opportunity to vent his own fear and anger.

 

Dwayne’s head shot up but Toby snickered acrimoniously.  “Leave him alone?  You’d better watch out there, Chris, you’re out of character.”

 

“You know, I can understand all the other assholes around here picking on him,” Elliot continued to rant in opposition to the little voice inside his head that screamed for him to just shut the hell up.  “But you I don’t get.  You come from his world, not theirs.  From what I hear, you were just like him when you got here.”

 

“Oh is that what you hear?” Toby retorted.  “Well I wasn’t like him; I fucking was him.”

 

“So why do you bust his chops?” Elliot asked irritably.  “Oh wait, wait a minute,” he laughed as a figurative light bulb came on.  “I get it.  I see.  He wants a piece of what you consider yours.  You’re just trying to protect your interests.”

 

Toby harrumphed and bared his teeth in anger.  “Who are you to judge my intentions?  Hmm?  Who are you?” he baited.  “If anything I’m trying to toughen him up.  If I make him wary, that makes him less vulnerable to attack.  Your coddling gives him a false sense of security that’s sooner or later gonna get him fucked up the ass.  Or worse.”

 

“I know that,” Elliot spat as he advanced on Toby who accepted the challenge and got right back in his face.  “I know,” he said again a little softer as Dwayne jumped down from the bed to hide behind him or back him up, he wasn’t sure which.  He wasn’t sure if Dwayne knew either.  “I’m working on it.”

 

“Keller?”

 

“It’s okay, Dwayne,” Elliot soothed, still staring Toby down as the cell doors engaged to Murphy’s vigorous cry of ‘lockdown’.

 

“It’s not okay,” Toby insisted obstinately.  “He made his bed; he has to lie in it just like every other cum stain in this place.  Welcome to Oz, baby.”

 

Elliot shook his head peevishly as he turned to a wide-eyed Dwayne and grasped him by the shoulders.  “I need a favor.”

 

“Anything,” Dwayne uttered breathlessly, clearly frightened out of his wits.

 

“Oh please,” Toby muttered behind them in disgust.

 

“Look, I know I might as well be a asking for the moon with the three of us crammed in here like sardines,” Elliot admitted, “But I need to have a private conversation with Beecher.”

 

“Huh?  What, uh, what do you want me to do?”

 

“I want you to get back on your bunk and read your book.”

 

“Yeah, just tune out any state secrets or plots to overthrow the government,” Toby added sardonically.  

 

“I trust him,” Elliot said, narrowing his eyes as he turned back to Toby.

 

“Hey, it’s your life.”

 

“Yeah, it is.  Just keep your voice down and try not to be too specific about anything.”

 

“Yeah, that’ll work,” Toby mocked with a sniff.

 

“I won’t listen,” Dwayne promised as he awkwardly patted Elliot on the shoulder then climbed back into the top bunk.  He opened the book then after a long stare from both of his podmates he turned it right side up and pretended to read.

 

“Read it out loud,” Elliot ordered gently.  “And face the other way.”

 

“Okay,” Dwayne rolled to his side away from them and started to read in a low, stuttering murmur.

 

Elliot took a deep breath and resumed his position against the wall meeting Beecher’s glare head on.  “I have kids, too,” he began softly, putting aside his emotions to bring the confrontation down to a more manageable level.

 

Completely caught off guard by the non sequitur, Toby didn’t have a sarcastic comeback.  “Oh,” he muttered as he let the unexpected information sink in.

 

“Four of ‘em,” Elliot elaborated with a wistful smile.  “I miss them.”

 

“Do they know where you are?”

 

“No,” Elliot responded guiltily, noting that the intermittent pauses in Dwayne’s reading were already getting longer.

 

Toby slowly dropped the attitude and finally just stared.  “Surgical?” he asked after a while, circling his face with his hand.

 

“Genetic,” Elliot explained knowing Toby would follow.

 

“He never mentioned you,” Beecher said after another moment of thought, still sounding a bit skeptical.

 

“I’m not surprised.  We weren’t raised together.  I didn’t even know he existed.”

 

“And he agreed to this… this… whatever it is?”

 

“God no,” Elliot laughed.  “He didn’t want me in here.  He put up a hell of a fight.  In fact this is his handy work,” he added pointing to his bruised forehead.

 

With a wince of sympathy Toby came a little closer and lowered his voice.  “So what exactly are you doing here?”

 

“I can’t tell you that.”

 

“Tell me or I’ll out you,” Toby threatened, but there was no heat behind his words.

 

“If you do, I won’t last a day,” Elliot replied calmly.  “How’s he gonna feel about that?  I know you still love him and he doesn’t strike me as the forgiving type.”

 

“Must be a family trait,” Toby agreed, indicating his own colorful throat.

 

Elliot smirked and scratched his ear.  “Ya think?”

 

Toby grinned cheekily.  “All right, don’t tell me.  But I think maybe tonight you’ll suck my dick.”  Dwayne faltered and began the same paragraph for the third time.

 

“Maybe I’ll rip off your nuts and feed them to you,” Elliot quipped with a menacing smile of his own.  

 

“Maybe we’ll just be friends,” Toby conceded easily as he massaged his tender neck.

 

“So I can trust you not to rat me out?”

 

“Chris is okay?” Toby asked again seriously, just to make sure.  “You’re not here to fuck him over?”

 

“He’s my brother, I’m trying my damnedest not to mess things up for him.  And yeah, I promise, he’s fine.  He might as well be on vacation.”

 

They stopped talking when they realized Dwayne was no longer reading.  “Dwayne?”

 

Toby huffed, “So much for confidentiality.”

 

“Dwayne.  Look at me,” Elliot insisted.

 

The smaller man slowly turned to face them, shielding himself behind his book.  “You’re not him,” he stammered.  “You’re a… a cop?”

 

Elliot shared a pained looked with Toby, thankful he didn’t say ‘I told you so’. “Yeah.”

 

“You’ll protect me?”

 

“He doesn’t owe you anything,” Toby butted in crossly.

 

Dwayne swallowed convulsively, obviously not used to making threats. “I could tell what I know.”

 

“I thought we had an understanding.  Do you want to watch them kill me?” Elliot asked as he waved a hand to encompass Emerald City.

 

“I don’t want to get beat up, or f… fucked.  I don’t want to die.”

 

“Dwayne,” Toby argued impatiently.  “This is probably the only innocent man in Oz, how are you going to live with yourself if you get him murdered.”

 

“What do you care?  He’s not even really your, ah, your boyfriend.”

 

“No, he’s not,” Toby said as Elliot met his gaze silently asking the same question.  “But he’s practically my brother-in-law.”

 

“Jesus,” Elliot chortled under his breath.  “That’s sick.”

 

“Why?” Toby demanded, looking hurt and on the verge of losing his temper.  

 

“You know why,” Elliot explained uncomfortably as he motioned to his own crotch.

 

“Oh you mean because we had sex,” Toby inferred, a devilish glint coming to his eye as Elliot’s posture stiffened defensively.  

 

“We did not have sex.”

 

“We sorta did, remember?  I jerked you off.”

 

Used to people forgetting about him in the middle of conversations, Dwayne watched the exchange with a fascinated revulsion.  

 

“No,” Elliot disputed heatedly, “you took advantage of me while I was asleep.  I didn’t even… finish.”

 

“But you enjoyed it while it lasted,” Toby baited cheerfully, holding a finger erect and slowly letting it droop.

 

“Fuck you,” Elliot muttered when realized Beecher was only yanking his chain.  “What I enjoyed was watching your eyes bug out while I choked you.”

 

Toby faked an exaggerated shudder.  “You know, the thought of Chris as a cop is just too fucking scary.  Why don’t you just beat the crap out of Stone here and be done with it?”

 

Dwayne made a strangled noise in the back of his throat as he flattened himself against the glass wall behind the bunk when Elliot turned to him.

 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Elliot promised as he let out a noisy breath of frustration.  “Let’s make a deal, okay?  If you keep your mouth shut I’ll look out for you while I’m here.  When I leave I’ll have them put you into protective custody while I try to arrange to move you to a minimum security facility more appropriate to your crime.”

 

“Will they go for that?” Dwayne queried hopefully as Toby huffed petulantly and turned away.

 

“Yeah, I think I can get the FBI to pull some strings.  They owe me, big time.  What do you say?”

 

“You’re a bigger idiot than I think you are if you don’t take that deal,” Toby swore a little bitterly as he wandered to the front of the pod and stared out into space.  “I would have taken it in a heartbeat.”

 

“Okay,” Dwayne accepted, reaching out tentatively to shake Elliot’s hand.  “Do I still have to read out loud?”

 

“Please don’t,” Elliot smiled, relieved to have brought one fire under control but also happy to help the poor guy out of the perilous mess he was in.  He shook Dwayne’s hand then patted him on the head and ducked into the bottom bunk to study Beecher’s rigid back.  

 

A few minutes later Toby sighed quietly as the tension drained away from his body, apparently done with his pity party. “You still have to sleep with me,” he said before turning around.

 

“Beecher…”

 

“I’m serious,” Toby persisted.  “I’m not fucking with your head this time.  No one will buy me and Keller in different bunks when we have the hacks’ blessing to share.”

 

“They’ll just think we had a fight.”

 

Toby shook his head.  “When Keller and I fight, nine times out of ten one of us ends up in the hole.  I won’t try anything, I promise.”

 

“Okay,” Elliot gave in grudgingly.  “I trust you with my life; I guess I can trust you with my dick.”

 

Having already heard too much man on man sex talk, Dwayne rolled onto his stomach and covered his head with his pillow.  Half a second later he flopped onto his back instead.

 

“You’re learning,” Toby praised before dismissing him altogether and addressing Elliot.  “We’ve still got two and a half hours to kill.  You wanna play chess until lights out?”

 

“Sure,” Elliot answered as he sat up and dragged the footlocker around to use as a table.  “I, uh, ran across it in here yesterday.”

 

Toby moved the chair closer while Elliot located the game.  “Look, I’m sorry, I can’t keep calling you Chris.”

 

“Call me Keller then,” Elliot replied as he began to set up.  “It’s not entirely inaccurate; it was my name for a couple days right after I was born.”

 

“So you were given up,” Toby surmised, reaching out to help.

 

“Yeah.  But I’m starting to think I got the better end of the deal.”

 

“You’re probably right.  Chris doesn’t ever talk about his childhood,” Toby muttered solicitously.  “You go first.”

 

Elliot made his standard opening move, trying to remember the last time he’d played chess.  He’d always meant to teach Dickie.  “Chris knew you would figure me out,” he replied offhandedly as Beecher studied the board.  “When he spoke to me about you, he referred to you as Toby.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Toby smiled softly to himself.  “In the cafeteria, when you attacked Schillinger, that wasn’t an act.”

 

“No.”

 

“At the time I thought it was because of me and I loved you for it.  Then later, after you kept ignoring me, I thought maybe it was for Cyril.  But you were really defending Chris.”

 

Elliot looked up uncertainly but didn’t answer.

 

“I’ll do whatever I can to protect you,” Toby vowed, making his move.  

 

***

 

The artificial dawn came abruptly with the ringing of a bell followed by a harsh buzzer and the intrusive overhead lights.  Usually able to hop out of bed fully alert Elliot blinked open his eyes but didn’t move as he wondered when the simple act of waking had become so complicated.  He groaned as he finally rolled into the warm spot behind him where Beecher had been a moment before.

 

“Not a morning person, huh?” Toby asked as he stood at the toilet taking a leak.

 

That he’d slept well didn’t really seem to help Elliot clear his mind and a minute later he was startled by a hand on his shoulder as a worried Toby knelt by the bed.  “What?” he asked in confusion before realizing he must have dozed back off.

 

“What’s wrong with him?” Dwayne asked, hovering a little further away.

 

“I don’t know,” Toby answered apprehensively as he felt Elliot’s forehead.  

 

Elliot snorted and he pushed the hand away.  “I don’t have a fever.  Why the hell do we have to get up so early?” he griped to cover his little relapse.  “And if you say ‘welcome to Oz’ again I’m going to pop you one right in the mouth.”

 

After a brief glance at Dwayne, Toby grinned in relief.  “He’s grumpy but he’s fine.”

 

“Let’s go you morons,” Mineo shouted from just outside.  “Move your asses.”

 

Toby grasped Elliot by the arm and helped lever him to his feet and they made their way out to the landing with Dwayne close behind them.  

 

“Keller?  Are you high?” Mineo questioned suspiciously.

 

“No,” Elliot denied automatically even as he swayed.

 

Mineo came closer and Elliot flinched when he reached out to lift first one eyelid then the other as he looked him over.  “Good thing Nathan still wants to see you first thing every morning,” he muttered.  “You look like shit.”

 

“Feel like shit,” Elliot agreed as he rubbed his aching head.

 

“Be ready to go in five minutes,” Mineo advised.  “I’ll send you out with the cafeteria workers.”

 

When they finished count Elliot took some Tylenol then brushed his teeth while he waited for Dwayne to use the toilet.  He put on a fresh shirt and finally got to pee, the pod seeming especially small with the three of them moving around in it.  As he sat on the bed and laced up his boots Mineo appeared back at the door.  

 

“I gotta go,” Elliot said to Dwayne as he got up.  “Just stay with Toby for now and I’ll meet you at breakfast.  Okay?” he asked turning to Beecher for confirmation of the plan.

 

“Yeah,” Toby nodded.  “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Today, Keller, today.”

 

Elliot let out an exasperated breath as he pushed the door open and followed Mineo.

 

“Hi Cwris,” Cyril greeted as he and Ryan came out of their pod and joined them at the top of the stairs.

 

“Cyril.  Ryan.”

 

“So you’re on your way to see Gloria,” Ryan surmised, falling in behind Elliot.  “You be sure and tell her I said hello.”

 

“I can do that,” Elliot shrugged casually with no real intention of harassing the doctor for O’Reily.  “Hey, you think they might finish the floor today?” he asked Mineo when he spotted the workmen coming in through the gate.

 

“Yeah, I think they’ve stretched it out as long as they can.  They get paid by the hour, you know,” Mineo replied disdainfully at the perceived lack of work ethics.  “Things should be back to normal by lunchtime.”

 

“What’s the matter?” Ryan mocked from over Elliot’s shoulder.  “You getting’ tired of Beecher already?”

 

“It’s a little crowded,” Elliot answered carefully, kneeling down when they got to the ground floor on the pretense of tightening his bootlace to let Ryan and Cyril get ahead of him.  He wasn’t in the mood for playacting and decided he’d better back off before he let something slip.  Ryan eyed him skeptically but kept moving and fell into line with the rest of the kitchen staff.

 

“This one’s going to the see the Doctor Nathan,” Mineo pointed Elliot out to the hack in charge of the group as the gate was opened again.

 

The short walk seemed to revive him a little and by they time he was dropped off at the infirmary Elliot felt a little better.  Nathan wasn’t in yet so he sat on the end of a bed in the ward to wait.  Across the aisle an ironically black and blue Aryan glared at him but couldn’t speak with his jaw wired shut.  Elliot grinned and blew him a kiss for spite.  

 

“Keller,” Rebadow called from a few beds down as he wandered over.  “Are you still having troubles with your head?”

 

“Nah,” Elliot denied, keeping a wary eye on the skinhead who still glowered as he shifted around in bed.  “The doc’s just being cautious.  How are you doing?”

 

“I’m fine.  But Doctor Nathan insisted on keeping me here until my pod is fixed.  She’s a wonderful woman.”

 

“Yeah, she is,” Elliot agreed.  “So where did your buddy end up?”

 

“They finally sent Busmalis to solitary,” Rebadow exclaimed sadly.  “Warden Glynn is extremely upset with him.  I don’t think he’s going to let him marry Norma.”

 

“That’s too bad.  But maybe it’ll teach him to stop digging.”

 

“Good you’re here,” Nathan greeted Elliot breathlessly as she breezed into the room.  “Sorry I’m late, I had a flat tire.  Is everything alright?”

 

“Sure,” Elliot replied with a calculated smile.  “Can I go?”

 

“No.  So quit whining and get your butt into the exam room,” Nathan admonished as she borrowed a stethoscope from a passing nurse.  “Good morning Rebadow,” she called over her shoulder following as Elliot unenthusiastically obeyed.

 

“Good morning, Doctor.”

 

A minute after they were gone Ryan O’Reily appeared at the door holding up two burned fingers.  “Where’s Keller?” he asked Rebadow as he entered the ward and looked around.

 

“He’s in with Doctor Nathan,” Rebadow replied with a spark of mischief. “She doesn’t examine him out here.”

 

“Is that right?” Ryan asked darkly.

 

“Yes, she always sees him in private.  She seems to be very at ease with Keller, considering.”

 

“Considering what?”

 

“Considering that he’s a cold blooded killer.”

 

O’Reily smirked as he stared at the closed door down the hall.  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

 

***

 

“So how are you really?” Nathan asked as soon as they were alone.  She walked past him to the other side of the table while he stayed in the corner by the door.

 

“I’m okay,” Elliot tried to assure her.  “My head still hurts and I’m having a little trouble waking up,” he added truthfully at her disbelieving stare.

 

“Nausea?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Blurred vision?”

 

“Not at all.”

 

Nathan nodded as she propped her forearms on the exam table.  “How’s your other problem?”

 

“Other problem?  Oh, you mean…” Elliot flushed slightly as he leaned against the door and crossed his arms over his chest.  “Are you trying to get me out of my pants again?  Because if you are I feel I should remind you; I am a married man,” he said with a grin.

 

“Your virtue is safe with me, Detective,” Nathan laughed.  “I just feel like I haven’t done enough to ensure your wellbeing.”

 

“Are you kidding me?” Elliot asked incredulously.  “You’ve been great.  I don’t know how I’m ever going to be able to repay you for all you’ve done.”

 

“I meant medically.  I should have sent you for a head CT at the very least,” Nathan argued.  “Ultimately, your health is more important that whatever this mission is.  Isn’t it?”

 

“I don’t know,” Elliot responded as if he hadn’t thought of it that way.  “I guess that depends on what I find out.  If the information saves lives or protects innocents then I’d have to say no.”

 

“That’s crap,” Nathan disagreed.  “But I can see I’m not going to change your mind.  Are you safe?  Would you tell me if you weren’t?”

 

“It’s okay, I’ve got backup now.”

 

“They sent in someone else?  Fuller didn’t tell me anything.”

 

“No,” Elliot fidgeted as he debated if he should actually tell her.  “Beecher figured things out… and, uh, Halstead.”

 

“Jesus,” Nathan exclaimed.  “We’ve got to get you out of here.”

 

“Beecher’s cool as long as Chris is okay.  And I made a deal with Dwayne.  I need you to start the ball rolling by getting in touch with Fuller for me.”  

 

“What does he want?”

 

“He wants to be moved to a minimum security facility.  Look, the floor will be finished today so they’ll begin transfers again.  I could be out of here by tonight.”

 

“From your mouth to God’s ear,” Nathan prayed.

 

“You getting tired of me, Doc?”

 

Nathan sighed and smiled.  “What is your name anyway?”

 

“Elliot,” he answered, feeling he owed her that much.

 

“You’re a good man, Elliot.  I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

 

“What’s your favorite flower?” Elliot asked unexpectedly.

 

“Flower?”

 

“Yeah, what’s your favorite?”

 

“I’m, ah, partial to daisies.”

 

“Daisies,” Elliot repeated as he committed it to memory.  “Can you do one more thing for me?  Can you see about getting Halstead moved to protective custody?”

 

“That’s going to be hard considering I haven’t seen him.  What reason can I give?”

 

“Tell them I told you he’s in danger.  He is.  He’s a walking invitation to get slammed.  I can’t believe he’s gotten off so easy this long.”

 

“I’ll work on it,” Nathan promised as she straightened up.  “Do you want me to order a breakfast tray for you?  Do you want a shower?”

 

“No thanks, Murphy already thinks I’m taking advantage.  I don’t want to get Chris on his bad side.  Besides, I have a breakfast date with my co-conspirators.”

 

“If I don’t get to talk to you alone again…” Nathan said as she came around the table and held out her arms.

 

Elliot hugged her and whispered into her hair.  “Thank you.  For everything.”

 

***

 

O’Reily couldn’t hear anything through the door and the nearest hack was giving him the evil eye so he backed off a little and positioned himself in the hall across from the now hated exam room to wait.  When the handle turned he straightened, his whole body alert and ready to spring into action.  

 

Gloria’s soft laugh drifted out as the door opened.  “You know Gerald begged me not to discharge him since he knew you’d be coming twice a day, you heartbreaker you.”

 

“Stop it,” Keller grumbled good-naturedly in return.

 

Ryan’s fears were confirmed as he caught a glimpse of Gloria’s hand patting Keller’s abdomen as the lying son of a bitch removed his arm from around her.  As they stepped out they both froze uneasily when they spotted him.  Keller glowered and started to move forward but Gloria shifted into his path, pressing her shoulder against his chest to keep him in line.  

 

“I can handle this,” she whispered in an intimate tone she had no business using on anyone but him as far as Ryan was concerned.

 

“What the fuck?” he asked icily.

 

“What are you doing here?” Gloria demanded instead of answering.

 

Ryan held up his injured fingers, never taking his infuriated gaze off Keller.  “I burned myself.”

 

“How convenient,” Keller replied, matching Ryan glare for glare.  “Get hurt a lot, do you?”

 

“Hey, the kitchen is a hazardous place.  In fact, this whole prison is getting more dangerous by the minute, don’t you think?”

 

“Ryan,” Gloria rebuked.  “Go wait for me on the ward.”

 

“What, you’re not going to take me behind closed doors?  Or is that something only for the privileged few?”

 

“If you want me to look at your fingers go wait on the ward,” Gloria stood firm as she stared him down.  

 

“Sure,” Ryan said with no intention of moving until Keller was gone.

 

Gloria turned to look up into Keller’s face. “I thought you had a breakfast date?”

 

“You’re okay?” Keller asked her gently, further raising Ryan’s ire.

 

“Yeah, I told you I can handle O’Reily.  Get out of here.  I’ll see you this afternoon.”

 

Keller looked at her and finally nodded as he moved away.  “Later,” he said to Ryan as he brushed by him.

 

“Count on it,” Ryan called back, still seething.

 

***

 

Elliot managed a smile for Cyril as he accepted the dregs of the scrambled eggs, wondering if the food was any better if you actually got it when it was fresh.  He spotted Beecher and Halstead right away and sauntered over to join them.  Dwayne lit up like a love sick puppy the instant he spotted him and Toby looked more than ready to hand over babysitting duties.  

 

“Everything okay?” Toby asked as Elliot settled in beside him.

 

“O’Reily’s turning out to be a royal pain in the ass,” Elliot replied as he picked up his plastic fork and started in on his food.

 

“O’Reily’s always been a pain in the ass,” Toby assured him with a smirk.  “I meant how did it go with Doctor Nathan?”

 

“Same as usual,” Elliot shrugged.  “Why?”

 

“Did you tell her how hard it is for you to wake up?”

 

“Yes, Mother, I told her.  Jeez.”

 

“Forgive a guy for caring,” Toby huffed before polishing off his juice.  “Look, I gotta go to work.  I’ll try to get Sister P. to release me early today so I can watch your back.”

 

“You think she’ll go for that?”

 

“If I approach her the right way, yeah I think so.”

 

“Why do I suspect you have the good sister wrapped around your little finger?” Elliot kidded between bites of toast he used to sop up the soggy egg.

 

“Not me,” Toby grinned back at him maliciously.  “That particular merit badge goes to you-know-who.  He had her ready to leave the convent.”

 

Elliot winced.  “I don’t wanna know the details, okay?”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Toby nodded in understanding as he got up.  “I’ll see you later.”

 

“What about me?” Dwayne leaned across the table to ask as soon as Beecher was gone.

 

“You have to go to your job,” Elliot said softly.  “There’s nothing I can do about that today.  Where do you work anyway?”

 

“The dress factory.  It’s not so bad, I guess.”

 

“Just keep your eyes open like I told you.  I’m working on getting you into protective custody,” Elliot promised.  “It’s just going to take some time.”

 

“I know,” Dwayne mumbled miserably.  “I just wish you could come with me.”

 

Elliot didn’t answer as he finished his meal.  “Let’s go,” he said a few minutes later, picking up his tray and getting to his feet.

 

“Hey Keller, you get a new pet?” Schillinger called out to him as Dwayne followed a little too close behind him to the trash.  “This one’s uglier than Beecher.  You need to shave his ass and make him walk backwards.”  

 

The rest of the gathered Aryans laughed uproariously at the tired joke in a massive display of ass kissing, offering their own versions of how hideous they thought Dwayne was.

 

Ignoring the taunts, Elliot ushered an extremely high strung Dwayne out the door in front of him.  “Keep your head up,” he advised once they were in the hall.  “Stay aware of your surroundings.  If anybody bothers you yell for a guard.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dwayne muttered feebly.  “I’ll be okay.”

 

“You will,” Elliot agreed as he patted Dwayne on the back and sent him on his way.  He watched until the dejected form disappeared around the corner then started back to Em City.  

 

As before the place was almost deserted except for the workmen who were finally repairing the hole in the floor.  Elliot decided to take advantage of the lull in activity to get a shower and headed up to his pod.

 

“Don’t you think it’s about time you got back to work?” Murphy inquired as Elliot climbed the stairs past the guard station.

 

“Talk to Nathan,” Elliot suggested without stopping.  “Get her to give me back gym privileges while you’re at it.”

 

Murphy sighed and waved him on.  “Hold your breath,” he replied distractedly as he returned his attention to the clipboard in his hand.

 

Elliot smirked to himself thinking he might be a lot like the Irishman if he were a CO.  He hoped he would anyway, but he doubted he would be able to hang on to the good humor for long dealing with the low life scum of Oz day after day.  When he reached the pod he located a towel and sniffed it before deciding it was clean enough.  Remembering the gunshot scar he didn’t have he opted not to strip out of his shirt this time so he grabbed the soap and headed back down without undressing.  If it was out of character, there wasn’t really anyone around to notice.

 

***

 

“I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything,” Olivia promised before hanging up the phone and moodily slumping back in her chair.  

 

Kathy was sick with worry and she couldn’t really blame her.  She didn’t tell her she’d been to Oz, mostly because she didn’t want to put the idea of a field trip of her own into her head.  But there was also the smidgen of culpability that she ‘the partner’ had been the one who got to comfort Elliot, hold him while he slept, and she wasn’t so sure ‘the wife’ in Kathy would understand.  Especially since she already felt left out.  Surprisingly, she was also pushing to meet her long lost brother-in-law; the one Olivia had shamelessly tongued only twelve hours before.  

 

Olivia pushed that thought away for the hundredth time as she rubbed her eyes and yawned.  She’d almost been glad when she got the early morning call to an alleged rape/murder because she sure as hell hadn’t been sleeping anyway.  Luckily there was nothing about the naked corpse that remotely resembled sexual abuse as ruled by the medical examiner and Captain Cragen had been happy to lob the case right back into Homicide’s court.  

 

Feeling a little guilty for being out of pocket so much for the last couple of days Olivia had come to the station to catch up on things instead of going home.  Not that she could really concentrate.  Her emotions concerning Elliot and Chris and ‘the kiss that never should have happened but she couldn’t stop thinking about’ were all jumbled and confused in her head.  She dreaded seeing Chris again.  And she couldn’t wait.

 

“Yo, baby, where are you off to?” Fin drawled with a laugh as he sat on the edge of her desk startling Olivia out of her thoughts.

 

“Hey,” Olivia greeted sheepishly, glancing at her watch.  “I didn’t hear you come in.”  

 

“You catch one last night?”

 

“False alarm.  I just stuck around to catch up.”

 

“Before you go see Elliot’s brother, you mean,” Fin surmised as he got up to get coffee.

 

“I’ll go later,” Olivia said, making the decision even as the words came out of her mouth.

 

Fin wandered back with the pot in hand and topped off Olivia’s cold cup without asking.  “It must be weird,” he mused.

 

“Yeah,” Olivia agreed knowing exactly what he meant.  “They are so much alike and they are so, so different.  But I think I can actually tell them apart now.”

 

“How?”

 

Olivia shrugged as she thought it out.  “Body language mostly, how they carry themselves.  And their eyes.  The real difference is in their eyes.”

 

Fin studied her for a minute then returned the coffee pot to its base.

 

“What?” Olivia asked suspiciously.

 

“I didn’t say anything,” Fin denied hiding a knowing smile as he turned away to fix his own cup of coffee.

 

“No, but you’re thinking something.”

 

“I’m just wondering how long later will be,” Fin grinned.

 

Olivia flushed, realizing she was already holding her keys.

 

***

 

Under different circumstances Elliot would have laughed at the sound of boots on the tile floor as he rinsed the soap from his chest and underarms.  It never seemed to fail, whenever he got naked in Oz somebody walked in on him.  Instead he tensed up, accidentally wetting the ace on his arm as he prepared to defend himself.  As he sent a cautious glance over his shoulder he was actually relieved to see it was Beecher.  

 

“Hey,” he said as he turned off the water and acted like he wasn’t still a tad spooked.  “I guess you didn’t have any trouble getting away.”

 

“Sister Pete has some… guilt,” Toby shrugged with a grin as he approached.  

 

“And you know just how to work it, right?” Elliot asked, moving closer to the waist high partition to grab the towel and dry his face.

 

“Well, yeah,”  Toby confessed as he leaned his elbows on top of the half-wall, making no attempt to avert his eyes from Elliot’s bare torso.  “I hate that scar, but I love it too, you know?  It’s part of him.  I don’t know how I didn’t notice it wasn’t there.”  

 

“I think the human mind has the uncanny ability to fill in the blanks for us,” Elliot responded with his best guess as he made a superficial pass at his wet skin with the towel.  He pulled a face when he realized just how wet the wrapping on his arm was.

 

“I can’t believe you ever fooled me.”

 

“You were expecting Chris so you saw Chris,” Elliot replied on exiting the shower, trading the towel for his underwear that lay across the top of the partition with the rest of his clothes.

 

“You don’t have a butterfly,” Toby noted as he continued to make comparisons.

 

Annoyed at the ongoing scrutiny, Elliot snorted and stepped into the briefs, yanking them up his damp legs.  “Yeah, that kind of threw me.  A butterfly.  What was he thinking?”

 

“I think it’s sexy.”

 

“I’m sorry, I just don’t get it,” Elliot finally came out with the thing that had been bothering him most about Toby.  “I mean, you were married.  You’ve got kids.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“So what’s the appeal?  What is it about Chris that made you want to switch teams?”

 

“You mean aside from the obvious?” Toby asked with a leer as Elliot bent to put on his pants.

 

“Uh, obviously it’s not so obvious to me,” Elliot retorted as he zipped up.  “You’re gonna have to give me a hint.”

 

Toby laughed and scratched his head as he thought it over.  “Um, okay.  You ever look in a mirror?”

 

Elliot nodded cluelessly, taking the question at face value.  When he caught on to what Toby was implying he shook his head in disbelief.  “You’ve got to be kidding me.  Please tell me you’re messing with my head again.”  

 

“Relax already; you don’t affect me the same way.  It’s more than physical,” Toby admitted to ease Elliot’s visible concern.  “Let’s just say Chris is a force of nature.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I don’t know how to explain it,” Toby sighed as he searched for the right words.  “He’s like a… a lava flow maybe.”

 

“Hot and dangerous?” Elliot scoffed, raising an eyebrow.

 

“I know you’re being sarcastic but that’s pretty close to the truth.  You’re drawn in by the beauty of the fire but you don’t realize how much trouble you’re in until you get close enough to sense the heat.  By that time you’ll do anything to feel the burn.”

 

“If you say so,” Elliot murmured as he began to unravel the sodden ace.  “Watch the door, would ya?”

 

“It’s not lust.  I’ve come to accept that my feelings for Chris are real,” Toby persisted as he checked to make sure they were still alone.  Then he watched curiously as the ink on Elliot’s forearm suddenly appeared.  “So that’s what this was about,” he replied as Elliot draped the bandage over his towel.  “You were a Marine?”

 

Elliot rubbed his arm, relieved to let it breathe for a minute.  “Yeah.  I keep thinking maybe if Chris had gone into the service…”

 

“They wouldn’t have taken him.  He already had a felony conviction by the time he was old enough,” Toby pointed out, picking up the ace to try to wring some of the water from it.  

 

“I know,” Elliot said unhappily as he pulled on his Henley.  “I’ve just got a lot of could’a beens running around in my head.  Do me a favor; don’t let me push up my sleeves until that thing dries.”

 

“Sure.  Someone’s coming,” Toby warned, stepping away as Elliot leaned his backside against a sink to put on his socks and boots.  

 

“What’s going on in here?” Murphy asked as he entered the shower room.  “This ain’t lover’s lane.”

 

“Sister Pete sent me to keep an eye on Keller,” Beecher declared as he turned, the poster boy for innocence.  “You can call her.”

 

 “Oh I will,” Murphy assured.  “Now beat feet out of here.  And stay out of close quarters so I don’t feel the need to separate you.”

 

“Come on, we’ll play chess in the quad,” Toby suggested as he led the way out past Murphy.

 

Elliot quickly rubbed his hair with the towel to catch a persistent drip and followed.  “They done with the floor yet?” he asked.

 

“Not yet,” Murphy groused as he brought up the rear.  “What is it with you and that damn floor anyway?”

 

***

 

Chris prowled his room like a pent-up tiger and cliché or not, that’s exactly what he felt like.  It was bad enough the FBI had conned Elliot into risking his life for the cause, whatever the fuck that might be.  But they were killing him too, slowly but surely with boredom.  The only things he had to look forward to were the visits from Olivia and after last night, he wasn’t so sure she was ever coming back.  

 

He knew he would have made a move on her eventually, that’s just who he was.  But she had surprised them both and beaten him to the punch.  Then she’d run off like a scared rabbit.  Flopping down on the cot he threw an arm over his eyes to think about the kiss, examining it in minute detail in his mind, wondering about someone else’s motives for a change.

 

***

 

Elliot watched with interest as the workmen finally removed the orange cones from around the newly patched linoleum and began to sweep up.  When he looked back to the game he smiled.  Beecher was in dire straights and didn’t even know it yet.  He scratched his nose, pushed up his sleeve and made his next move.  

 

“Tat,” Toby uttered distractedly as he studied the board.  “Fuck!  You’ve got me in three moves.”

 

“What’s a matter, Beecher?” Elliot smirked as he adjusted his shirt for the umpteenth time.  “You a sore loser?”

 

“No,” Toby all but pouted. “I guess I’m just expecting you to play like Keller.”

 

“What, Chris can’t play?”

 

“No, he’s very good.  But I taught him the game and I know what to expect from him even though he’s picked up a few sneaky moves from O’Reily.”  Toby conceded, tipping his queen.  “You win.”

 

“One more?” Elliot invited with a grin.

 

“No time,” Toby replied as he checked his watch. “You can beat me again later.”

 

“Is that thing dry yet?” Elliot asked as he reached over to feel the ace Toby had hung over the back of a chair.

 

Toby got up and tugged it out of his hand as he sat closer.  “Lower your arm,” he instructed as he rolled the bandage and looked around.  A few people were starting to return to Em City before lunch but no one was nearby at the moment.

 

Dropping his elbow, Elliot tugged his sleeve up and held his arm below the level of the table so Beecher could wrap it unobserved as they huddled together.  “Shit,” he swore when he spotted the workers from the dress factory coming through the gate along with Ryan O’Reily who seemed glued to Dwayne’s side.

 

“Too tight?” Toby questioned as he fastened the end.

 

“No it’s fine.  But I think we’re got another problem,” Elliot said in a low voice, keeping his head down. Ryan patted Dwayne on the back in a way that suggested a friendly threat as they started towards them.  

 

“What’s O’Reily doing back?” Beecher asked.  “He should be serving lunch in a few minutes.”

 

“He was in the infirmary earlier with what had to be self-inflicted burns on his hand.”

 

“Why do you think they were self inflicted?”

 

“Because he’s not just a stalker, he’s also a fucking malingerer.  This way he can combine the two,” Elliot said with disgust.  He tried to make eye contact with Dwayne but his roommate looked strickened as he made a beeline for the stairs refusing to even glance in Elliot’s direction.  “Christ, Halstead spilled the beans.”

 

“Don’t panic, we’ll play it off as a bet.”

 

“I don’t know, Toby.”

 

“We’ll baffle O’Reily with bullshit.  Just follow my lead,” Toby said softly, looking for Murphy without raising his head.  

 

The head hack had kept a distrustful eye on them all morning, waiting in vain for them to step out of line but at the moment he was upstairs in McManus’ office.  None of the rest of the COs seemed to be paying any particular attention so Toby leaned in and placed a flirty peck on the corner of Elliot’s mouth.

 

“Is that necessary?” Elliot complained without actually pulling back.

 

“Trust me, nothing throws Ryan like a little mano a mano,” Toby insisted as he nuzzled Elliot’s cheek.

 

“Aw fuck,” Elliot muttered resignedly before taking the plunge and kissing him back.  As expected, Toby met him full force, presumably to make it look good.  He threaded his fingers through Beecher’s hair and pulled him even closer.  In the battle of one-upmanship Toby breached his lips with tongue taking the kiss to a whole new level.  Whistles and catcalls sounded from all around.

 

“Hey!” Ryan protested, kicking the underside of the table to announce his arrival as he dropped into a chair.  “Knock it off.  We need to talk.”

 

“Keller!” Murphy shouted from up above as he rushed out to the landing having witnessed the spectacle from the window.  “Beecher!  This is your only warning.”

 

Toby grinned wickedly as he pulled back, reaching out to wipe Elliot’s glistening lower lip with his thumb.  “We’re done,” he announced.  “For now,” he added under his breath with a wink to Elliot.

 

“What’s up?” Elliot asked Ryan offhandedly as he caught Toby’s knee in a vice grip under the table to make him pay.

 

Ryan held his bandaged fingers up and to the side as if they hurt, but overall, he looked smug.  “I heard an interesting story today.”

 

Beecher winced and managed to wiggle free from the torturous hold as he repositioned himself next to Elliot, who leaned back and wrapped his arm around the back of Toby’s chair.

 

“Comfy now?  Can we get on with it?” Ryan grumbled, pissed that he couldn’t seem to keep their attention.

 

“What do you want, O’Reily?” Elliot asked in a tone that portrayed a perfect lack of interest as he played with the curls at the back of Toby’s neck.  “Can’t you see we’re busy?”

 

“Or so you would have me believe,” Ryan answered cryptically.

 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Toby queried, resting his hand high on Elliot’s thigh and massaging lightly.

 

“It means Halstead folded like a cheap lawn chair,” Ryan baited in a heated whisper, glancing at the marks on Toby’s neck. “After a little persuasion he told me all about how you attacked Beecher yesterday morning.”

 

“He misunderstood,” Elliot shrugged.  “We were just playing air games.  It got a little out of hand.”

 

“Fuck that, I know you’re not Keller.  You’re some fucking relative cop who’s here undercover.”

 

Elliot froze for a split second before turning to Toby.  They looked at each other then burst out into laughter.  “Fuck!” Elliot exclaimed as he reached into his back pocket to pull out the small wad of cash he had stashed there.

 

“I told you,” Toby proclaimed triumphantly, throwing back his head and laughing even harder.  “Pay up, bitch.”

 

Shaking his head as he made a sloppy attempt to straighten out the bills, Elliot counted the money.  “Sixteen, seventeen… Shit, that’s all I got.  I owe you three bucks.”

 

“We can work it out in trade,” Toby smirked as he gathered the money and shoved it into his front pocket.

 

“Yeah, three bucks?  I can take care of that right here,” Elliot said huskily as he pulled Toby in for another kiss.

 

“Enough,” Murphy decried as he came stomping down the last few stair steps.  “Keller, let him go or you’re going into the cage.”

 

Elliot held up his hands and leaned back with a guiltless smile.  “We’re cool.”

 

“You still owe me two-fifty,” Toby huffed in exasperation as he gave Murphy a dirty look.  

 

“As for you,” Murphy ordered, pointing a finger at Beecher, “Go get your stuff.  Now is the perfect time for you to move back into your own pod.”

 

“I want Keller to move with me,” Toby pronounced.  “Or let me move in with him.”

 

“You know how it works.  You gotta file the proper paperwork with McManus,” Murphy replied with exaggerated patience as he made shooing motions with both hands.  “In the meantime you’re going home and he’s staying put.  Did I say now?”

 

Toby shared an expressionless look with Elliot as he got to his feet.  “I’m going,” he said with a halfhearted sigh before headed for the stairs.  

 

Elliot watched him go, fully aware O’Reily wasn’t missing a thing.  He set his jaw and turned back to Ryan but neither spoke with Murphy still standing there.  The CO sensed something was up and eyed them charily for a minute before walking away.

 

“Don’t think I don’t know what this is about,” Elliot began gravely.  “You think I’m porking Nathan so you want to start a rumor that’ll get me killed.”

 

“I didn’t start no rumor, your new little butt-buddy did,” Ryan pointed out craftily.

 

“You bought into it,” Elliot accused, playing up his disbelief.  “Truthfully, I’m not all that surprised Halstead fell for it, but you know me.  I thought you were smarter than this.”

 

“Why the fuck would you feed Halstead that line of bullshit if it wasn’t true?” Ryan persisted, looking around as if he felt a little foolish.

 

Elliot sniffed as he glanced up at his pod, certain Beecher would shortly be ripping Dwayne a new one.  “I had to see if I could trust him.  Now I know I can’t.  Look, I know what you think you saw this morning in the infirmary.  But I’m not doin’ Doctor Nathan, I swear to God.”

 

“So what’s with all the secrecy when you go to the infirmary?”

 

“You saw Beecher’s neck,” Elliot said, making a point to shift uncomfortably in his chair.  “No lie, we got a little out of hand.  He’s not the only one who got hurt.  Here, let me show you…” he trailed off as he moved to unzip his pants.

 

“Whoa,” Ryan protested instantly.  “I don’t wanna see your shit.”

 

“Well Doctor Nathan has been really decent to me about the whole thing.  And you and me got too much to lose for me to turn on you now for a piece of ass,” Elliot took a shot in the dark without really knowing what he was talking about.  

 

“Don’t talk about her that way,” Ryan warned.

 

“Sorry.  But how many times I gotta tell you?”

 

Ryan finally chortled.  “I didn’t really believe him,” he lied.

 

“What a fucking loser, huh?” Elliot smirked, letting O’Reily think he was talking about Dwayne.

 

“What are you gonna do to him,” Ryan asked maliciously.

 

“Don’t worry about Halstead.  He’ll pay.”

 

“I’m sure he will,” Ryan nodded with a feral grin.  “What’s one more with a body count like yours?”

 

Elliot’s smile faded.  “Who’s looking out for Cyril?” he asked coldly.

 

“Shit, you’re right.  I gotta get back to the kitchen.  He’ll be all right as long as he stays on the job but I don’t trust him not to wander off.  No hard feelings.”

 

“Not by me,” Elliot said blankly, waiting for Ryan to leave before rubbing his eyes.  “Body count,” he repeated under his breath.  “Shit.”

 

***

 

In an effort not to give anything away to her overly perceptive colleague, Olivia put away her keys and waited until lunchtime to make her daily trek out to see Chris.  She picked up a variety of Chinese takeout and arrived a few minutes before noon, submitting to the usual meticulous search.  Plastering on a smile she didn’t quite feel, she braced herself for a smug welcome as she was buzzed into the cell

 

To her surprise Chris looked wary as he got to his feet.  “Olivia,” he greeted somberly.

 

“Hey you,” Olivia said as she set the large paper bag on the table and began to pull out little white boxes.  “I hope you like Chinese.”

 

“Sure,” Chris replied as he approached her with exaggerated care.  

 

Olivia frowned at the cool reception.  “What’s wrong?” she asked, suddenly apprehensive.  “Is it Elliot?”

 

“No, he’s fine,” Chris assured.  “In fact Fuller seems to think things are back on track.  They’ve already got tentative arrangements to make the switch tonight if everything goes according to plan.”

 

“Oh.  That’s good,” Olivia said, turning her attention back to the food to hide her mixed reaction.

 

“Yeah, it’s great.  I’ll be glad when this whole thing is over.”

 

“So what’s with the long face?”

 

Chris sighed audibly as he stepped up beside her, brushing her arm as he reached into the bag to help her remove the last couple of items and the handful of fortune cookies.  “I’m sorry about last night,” he said without looking at her.

 

“You didn’t do anything to be sorry about,” Olivia remarked as she eased into a chair to put a little distance between them.  “Can you eat with these?  I didn’t think to ask for forks,” she changed the subject as she held up a pair of chop-sticks.

 

“I don’t apologize very often,” Chris said with an impatient glower, “So I’d appreciate it if you would just shut up for a minute and listen.  I manipulated you.”

 

“And I called you on it,” Olivia responded bluntly, finally making eye contact.  “It’s okay.  Actually, I’m sorry, too.  Some of the things I said were uncalled for.  You just want what’s best for Elliot and so do I.”

 

“What about the kiss?” Chris asked, deceptively casual as he studied her, a hint of the anticipated smugness playing on his lips.

 

“I’m not sorry about that,” Olivia admitted self-consciously as she opened a carton of fried rice.  

 

Seemingly over his fit of melancholy, Chris nodded and finally took a chair.  “So who were you kissing?” he asked as he tore the paper off another set of chop-sticks and grabbed a box at random.  “No, don’t tell me.  I’m as vain as the next man; I’d like to believe it was me.  What the hell is this?” he asked, making a face as he sniffed the contents of the container.

 

“Look, I realize you think I’m using you as a surrogate for Elliot, but I know who I was kissing,” Olivia asserted, finding Chris’ more confrontational style of communication a relief in some ways over Elliot’s typical ‘if you don’t talk about it, it’ll go away’ method.  “That’s bean curd with oyster sauce,” she added as she traded boxes with him, falling easily back into their earlier rapport.

 

More satisfied with the rice Chris used the chop-sticks rather adeptly to shovel a couple bites into his mouth before exploring a few more boxes.  “Egg rolls?”

 

Olivia slid a greasy waxed bag closer to him.  “Here.”

 

“So are you gonna kiss me again?” Chris teased as he helped himself to an enormous bite of egg roll.  “Do I need to get a chaperone in here?  I’m sure Fuller’s not busy.”

 

“I think I can control myself,” Olivia smirked as she threw a fortune cookie at him.

 

“Oh.  That’s too bad,” Chris replied, catching the cookie and ripping into the plastic around it.

 

“Hey, that’s for dessert,” Olivia scolded playfully.

 

“‘Stop searching for happiness, it is right beside you’,” Chris read as he stuffed a piece of the crumbled cookie into his mouth.

 

“It doesn’t say that.”  

 

“It does,” Chris shrugged, handing the tiny strip of paper over to her.  “And it’s absolutely right… these egg rolls do make me happy.  Life is short, eat dessert first,” he added philosophically, offering Olivia her pick of the remaining four cookies.

 

Olivia hesitated, holding her hand over his.  “This one,” she finally chose, grinning at him as she opened it.  “You’re a bad influence.”

 

“Story of my life,” Chris agreed with a wink.  “What’s it say?”

 

“‘Don’t put all your eggs in one basket’.”

 

“That’s it?” Chris asked, encompassing her hand roguishly to wrest the fortune from her to read it himself.  “Huh.”

 

“You were expecting something a little more meaningful?”

 

“Well yeah.  Don’t put all your eggs in one basket?  It might as well say don’t take candy from strangers.”

 

“Also good advice.”

 

“Advice, yes.  But a fortune?  No.  It should warn you about a dark stranger.”

 

“You’re not all that strange,” Olivia said, reaching out to touch his hand.  “And I know you’ve gotten a little sun but I would hardly call you dark either.”

 

Chris studied her intently as he stroked the inside of her wrist with his thumb.  “I’m not talking about my skin tone, Olivia.  I’m a world away from Elliot,” he muttered.

 

Olivia paused for a minute, lost in his compelling gaze.  “You’re not as far apart as you might think.  Elliot has his share of demons.”

 

“I hope you’re right.  Or Oz will eat him alive.”

 

Averting her eyes, Olivia pulled her hand back and picked up her bean curds.  “I hate to think of him in that place.  I hate to think of you going back.”

 

“Aw, Liv,” Chris sighed.  “Don’t worry about me, baby.  I belong there.”

 

“I know you have to serve your time…”

 

“No,” Chris corrected quietly.  “I belong there.  I understand prison life.  I… function there.  Call it my comfort zone.”

 

“What about the danger?” Olivia challenged.

 

“Yeah,” Chris drawled in a low voice, a predatory zeal coming to his eyes that sent cold shivers up Olivia’s spine.  “There’s that, too.”

 

Overcome with a frightening clarity, Olivia realized how different the brothers really were.  The bad boy charm suddenly lost some of its luster.  She continued to poke at her lunch but her appetite was gone as the new insight into Chris’ nature forced her to re-examine her prior assessment of him.

 

Chris observed her reaction with the finely tuned skill of a con man and smiled to himself.  “I have a boyfriend, you know.”

 

Olivia blinked in surprise.  “No, I didn’t know that.”

 

“Well, at least I’m planning on getting him back as soon as I can.  We’ve been at odds for awhile but I’m sure that’s all behind us now.”

 

“Good for you,” Olivia managed as she set her food aside and got to her feet.  “I should go,” she said, making a show of looking at her watch.

 

“So I guess this is good-bye,” Chris said as he stood, remaining on his own side of the table.  “Take care of my brother for me.”

 

“I will,” Olivia promised, relieved when he didn’t come near her.  “Enjoy the rest of your lunch.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Let me out,” Olivia called out as she approached the door.  When the buzzer rang she bolted into the hall without looking back.  She held her breath until she made it to the viewing room, coming face to face with Fuller in her head long rush.

 

“Are you all right?” Fuller asked with concern.

 

“Of course,” Olivia lied, her eyes automatically drawn to the window where Chris appeared to be nonchalantly finishing his lunch.  After a minute, she realized Fuller was still standing next to her.  “I’ve got to go,” she said again, moving toward the stairs.

 

“It’s funny, Keller didn’t strike me as the noble type,” Fuller replied, stopping her in her tracks.  “I’m impressed.”

 

“What do you mean?” Olivia asked as she slowly turned back to face him.

 

“He didn’t have to give you a peek into his psyche,” Fuller explained.

 

“You saw that?”

 

Fuller laughed.  “You see me as a paper pushing administrator, but I was a pretty good profiler in my day.  Keller could have just let you pine away for him while he rots in prison.  He chose to push you away.”

 

Whether she liked it or not, Fuller was right.  Chris had played her again.  This time, she decided to let him get away with it.  She bit back the sharp retort on the tip of her tongue and merely turned and left.  

 

Fuller remained at the window for a minute watching as Chris finally snapped a chop stick in half and stabbed a half-eaten egg roll with it.  He left the rest of the feast untouched and flopped down on the cot.  

 

“Buzz me in,” Fuller ordered the guard.  “I feel like Chinese.”

 

***

 

Beecher soon stormed out of Chris’ pod and made his way back down the stairs with his armload of belongings.  A second later Dwayne appeared at the railing to stare down at Elliot, clearly desperate for a gesture of forgiveness.  

 

Too angry to offer any hope Elliot sniffed and looked away before getting up to follow Toby into his glass box.  “Water damage?” he asked as he looked around the disheveled cell, noticing the streaks of dried mud on the floor.

 

“I don’t think so,” Toby said as he sorted through the items still on his bunk.  “Looks like I just need to mop a little.  My stuff seems to be okay.”

 

Elliot nodded absently as he fingered the edge of the blanket that hung over the side of the bed frame.

 

“Halstead’s a mess,” Toby commented, not sounding particularly sorry for the guy.

 

“What’d you tell him?”

 

“I told him he fucked up.  I take it Ryan bought our act?”

 

“Who knows?” Elliot sighed expansively.  “That bastard is devious.  He says he didn’t believe the story anyway, but we both know he did.  I don’t trust him.”

 

“That’s probably a smart move,” Toby agreed as he bent down to deposit his still absent podmate’s things on the lower bunk.  Elliot took the opportunity to swat him across the back of the head.  “Ow!” Toby complained, glaring up at him as he rubbed the point of impact.  “What the fuck?”

 

“That was for enjoying it.”

 

Toby chuckled as he straightened up.  “But you’re getting so much better at it.  Your wife is gonna thank me.”

 

“Don’t,” Elliot warned, pointing a finger at him.

 

“Aw come on, Officer.  Consider it expanding your horizons.”

 

“My horizons don’t need expanding,” Elliot grumbled.  “And it’s Detective.”

 

“Oh, well,” Toby said sardonically.  “Pardon me, Detective.”

 

“Lunch!” Came the call from the guard tower.

 

“Let’s go eat,” Toby suggested.  “They’ll probably start the transfers in and out this afternoon.”

 

“Transfers?” Elliot asked innocently, eliciting a small huff of irritation from Toby.

 

“Yeah, that’s why you were so concerned with the floor, right?  Not just because you wanted me out of your pod?  I figure whoever you came to talk to isn’t here yet or you would already be gone.  Surely this isn’t long term?”

 

“You think too much,” Elliot muttered, impressed with Toby’s mental maneuvering even if he wouldn’t admit it.

 

“Good thing I’m on your side, huh?” Toby teased as he moved past him to the door.

 

Elliot caught him by the arm.  “Toby?” he queried in a voice heavy with dread.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Tell me about Chris’ body count.”

 

“Body count?  Jesus,” Toby reacted warily as he glanced down at the hand that held him in place.  “Who said anything about a body count?”

 

“O’Reily.”

 

Toby wiped his free hand down his face to buy a second to think.  “O’Reily’s just testing you.”

 

“I don’t think so.”

 

Toby twisted out of Elliot’s grip.  “Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to,” he cautioned as he moved back to face the sink.  “You promised you wouldn’t fuck with Chris.”

 

“I have to know.”

 

“No.  You don’t,” Toby insisted as he met Elliot’s gaze in the mirror, willing him to drop it.  

 

Elliot got the message but struggled with it for another moment before finally backing down.  “Let’s go to lunch,” he said in tacit agreement as he pushed the door open and stepped out.

 

Toby joined him and they started toward the gate together but neither spoke.  As the stream of bodies heading for the mess hall diminished they spotted Dwayne lingering just outside in the hall.  He fell into step behind them as they passed him.

 

“Stupid cunt,” Toby growled.

 

“Easy, Beecher,” Elliot scolded lightly as he allowed Halstead to catch up to them, clamping a hand firmly around the back of his neck.  “We had a close call but I think Dwayne has learned his lesson.  Haven’t you, Dwayne?” he asked, his anger still very close to the surface.

 

“Yes sir,” Dwayne muttered meekly, scared and eager to please.

 

“You can’t trust him.  Anybody looks at him the wrong way and he leaks information.  If he were a condom you’d be pregnant by now.”

 

“Nice visual, thanks,” Elliot complained, giving Dwayne’s nape a hard squeeze.  “I don’t have any other choice.  Besides, if he leaks again, he won’t have to worry about Chris coming back.  I’ll take care of him myself.”

 

A strange ‘ep’ sound escaped from Dwayne’s throat but he fervently nodded his understanding of the threat.  “I won’t let you down again,” he whispered hoarsely.

 

“That’s right, you won’t.  Or I’ll toss out a rumor of my own; see how well you’ll do after being labeled ‘short eyes’.”

 

“Short eyes?”

 

“Yep, that’s a child molester,” Elliot explained, “The absolute bottom of the food chain in prison.”

 

Dwayne gulped.  “I won’t even talk to anybody,” he swore adamantly.

 

“Good idea,” Elliot approved.  “Now walk behind me and shut the fuck up.  You’re officially my bitch until further notice.”

 

Toby let out a jubilant cackle.  “You’d better hope you can actually get Dwayne transferred,” he leaned in close to proclaim in Elliot’s ear.  “Cause if Chris inherits your prag, he’s gonna kill you.”

 

“I know,” Elliot muttered unhappily.  “Believe me, I know.”

 

***

 

As they approached the serving area Elliot was well aware O’Reily was watching them.  He picked up one of the cardboard trays and casually handed it to Halstead as he kept up light conversation with Beecher who was just ahead of him in line.  Dwayne accepted the tray without a word and took one for himself, carefully balancing both out in front of him to be filled as they moved along.

 

“So Halstead,” Ryan greeted condescendingly, “Heard any good fairy tales lately?”

 

“Uh uh uh,” Elliot cautioned Dwayne before he could utter a sound.  “What did I tell you about talking?”

 

Dwayne lowered his eyes and nodded minutely, keeping his mouth clamped shut.

 

“Good boy,” Elliot praised with a smirk to O’Riley as he patted Dwayne’s head like a dog.  “I may get him trained yet.”

 

“Yeah.  Good luck with that,” Ryan scoffed as he sloppily ladled out two helpings of soup to go with the baloney sandwiches Cyril dropped onto the trays.  “And a prag is born.  Now you be sure and don’t spill that, Sweetie Pie.”  

 

Sucking up the humiliation admirably, Dwayne followed Elliot and Toby to a table and put both trays down.  Elliot took the one with the least amount of spillage and nodded for Dwayne to sit before ‘accidentally’ dropping his plastic spoon on the floor.  Dwayne quickly handed over his clean one before retrieving it then waited for further instructions.

 

“He learns fast,” Beecher commented as he sunk his teeth into his sandwich.

 

“Eat,” Elliot advised Dwayne as he started in on his own lunch.  “You’re gonna need your strength tonight,” he leered for the benefit of anyone who might be paying attention.

 

Dwayne dug in as ordered, seemingly relieved to have someone else calling the shots.  Aside from a few off-color remarks from bystanders, lunch went off without a hitch.  When they were done Dwayne gathered the trash, including Toby’s, and deposited it in the receptacle then dutifully followed them back to Em City without a word.

 

Waiting for the afternoon activities back in Chris’ pod, with Dwayne posted outside the door, Elliot tried to make sense of what Toby was telling him.

 

“Let me get this straight,” Elliot asked, trying to keep his anger at bay as he sat up on his bunk.  “Chris wants to join the rehab group and Sister Peter Marie won’t let him?  He’s honestly trying and she turned him away?  What the fuck kind of psychologist is she?”

 

“I’m sorry I brought it up,” Toby said, holding up his hands up as he backed towards the door.  “I thought you’d be relieved not to have to go.”

 

“I am,” Elliot admitted grudgingly.  “It’s just the thought that Chris isn’t getting the help he obviously needs.”

 

“Look, Pete’s not a bad person,” Toby defended.  “Chris just really messed with her head.”

 

“See, I don’t get that either.  She’s the professional; she’s expected to keep herself above that kind of crap.  In a job like hers she should never have allowed herself to be in a position to be manipulated.  By anyone.  She’s a nun for God’s sake.”

 

“She’s human.  And Chris is… well, Chris. Just remember my volcano analogy.  It applies to Pete, too.  She got burned.”

 

“Nun’s aren’t supposed to burn, not that way,” Elliot insisted stubbornly, offended all the way to his Catholic roots.  “Is he using?  Cause if he is and she turned him away…”

 

“He’s not using.  He just said he’s getting urges,” Toby soothed.  “She’ll give in soon.  She’s worried as hell about him since she spoke to you.  Look, I gotta go.  The good news is O’Reily’s in the group and I can feel him out.”

 

Having already given up on the Tylenol Elliot lay back and covered his eyes, listening as Toby sighed and left.  He knew he should get up and watch for the transfers but he needed a minute to relax.

 

“Can I come in?” Dwayne asked softly.

 

“No.”  

 

“How ‘bout me?” another voice asked.

 

Elliot peeked out from under his arm then sat up.  “Murphy.”

 

“McManus wants to see you.”

 

“Oh, joy.  Can I bring Halstead?”

 

“Why?” Murphy questioned.

 

“Because if I let him out of my sight somebody’s likely to shank him,” Elliot provided seriously.

 

“Well from what I hear, you’re the source of his current woes.”

 

“No, he’s not,” Dwayne beat Elliot to the punch.  “I don’t mind the degradation as long as he keeps me safe.  I trust him with my life.”

 

Murphy looked at Dwayne like he’d lost his mind then slowly nodded his head.  “I think you’ll be all right for ten minutes.  Let’s go, Keller.”

 

“Just stay in the pod,” Elliot told Dwayne.  “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

 

“So you really went and pragged him,” Murphy muttered in disgust as he escorted Elliot out.

 

“What else could I do?” Elliot asked, stopping the hack at the rail.  “He’s a non-violent, white collar criminal.  He doesn’t belong in Oz.”

 

“So you’re taking care of him out of the goodness of your heart,” Murphy rejoined sarcastically.

 

Elliot shrugged.  “What can I say?  He’s like a helpless puppy or something.  This place is gonna kill him.”

 

“Let’s go,” Murphy urged, un-swayed by the argument.  When they reached the guard station halfway down the stairs he motioned for Elliot to continue without him.  

 

With a glance up at Dwayne who watched him from the pod, Elliot made his way to the main floor, across the quad and back up the stairs on the other side.  “McManus sent for me,” he told the hack stationed just outside the unit manager’s office.

 

The guy knocked on the door then leaned his head in for a minute before letting Elliot pass.

 

“What do you want?” Elliot asked McManus as he dropped into a chair.

 

McManus eyed him skeptically as he sat on the edge of his desk.  “I just spoke to Doctor Nathan.  She said you’re concerned about Halstead’s well-being.”

 

“He needs to go into protective custody.”

 

“Yeah, that would get him out of your hair,” McManus retorted.

 

Elliot pursed his lips and studied the other man for a moment.  “There’s a contract out on him.”

 

“Halstead tell you that?”

 

“Yeah,” Elliot began to spin his tale.  “You know as well as I do that it’s open season on geeks like him in Oz.  You think it’s just a mishap of justice that he got sent here?  He wouldn’t play ball with the FBI so they stuck him here as punishment, knowing he’d get whacked.”

 

“That’s a stretch,” McManus scoffed.

 

“Is it?  Maybe I know a little more about how the Feds operate than you do.  From recent experience, you understand.”

 

“Okay, even if you’re right, which I’m not saying you are,” McManus waffled as he tried to work the situation out in his head, “If Halstead didn’t rollover on anybody, who would want him dead?”

 

“Oh, gee, that’s a tough one.  Let me think… uh, one of his marks?” Elliot pretended to take a wild guess.  

 

“So this is all about money?”

 

“Dwayne may be a fuck up, but he’s a smart fuck up.  He pocketed a whole lot of loose change from a whole lot of not-so-nice people before he got caught.”

 

McManus pushed away from his desk and moved to look out over Em City.  “The geek thing… What happened to Beecher when he first got here, I feel a certain amount of responsibility for that.”

 

“Good,” Elliot responded heartlessly.

 

“I never broke any of his bones,” McManus spat out, spinning around to glare.

 

“So it wasn’t your dick.  That doesn’t mean you didn’t fuck him, too.”

 

McManus swallowed his anger and turned back to the window.  “I’ll see what I can do for Halstead,” he uttered in a voice full of remorse.  “He can stay with you this afternoon while I clear it with the warden.  I won’t send him back to the dress factory.”

 

“Thank you,” Elliot said, relieved how easy his task had turned out to be.  Then he decided to push his luck.  “What about Cyril O’Reily?”

 

“What about him?” McManus asked in surprise as he moved back to his desk to take a seat.

 

“He doesn’t belong here either.”

 

“Ya think?” McManus asked irritably.  “I’ve been trying to get him shipped out to the loony-bin almost as long as he’s been here.  His brother fights me every step of the way.”

 

“And we all know how much power Ryan O’Reily has around here.”

 

“Get out,” McManus ordered, pulling a sour face.

 

Elliot got up and moved to the door.  “Don’t drag your feet on this Halstead business,” he requested, ducking out before McManus could reply.

 

***

 

“You’re back,” Fin said in surprise as Olivia entered the squad room and went straight to her desk.

 

“So?” Olivia answered defensively, slamming things around a bit as she took a seat.

 

Fin exchanged a concerned look with Munch and they both headed over.  

 

“Well you’re usually gone longer,” John offered with a shrug.  “Do I sense trouble in the realm of the FBI?”

 

“No,” Olivia denied gruffly.  “Hopefully they’ll make the switch tonight and this whole nightmare will be over.”

 

“That’s good,” Fin replied as he sized her up.  “We’ll all be glad when Elliot gets back where he belongs.”

 

“I don’t think this has anything to do with Elliot,” Munch muttered in a not-so-quiet aside to his counterpart.

 

“I know that,” Fin confirmed in exasperation.  “I was just trying to show a little support without getting personal, unlike some people.”

 

Olivia glared at them both.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“Nothing,” they said in unison, every man for himself as they backed out of her space.

 

“So you’re going to be around this afternoon?” Munch treaded carefully, lingering at his desk and sharing yet another glance with Fin.

 

Running a hand through her hair, Olivia sighed and attempted to pull herself together.  “Yeah,” she finally responded.  “I’m not going back.  What do you need?”

 

“Wanna go over a particularly massive phone dump while we execute a warrant?”

 

“I’d love to,” Olivia said with a weary smile as she reached for the thick manila folder Fin held out to her, thankful for something to occupy her mind.

 

“Why are you two still here?” Cragen questioned as he passed through the bullpen.  “You got the warrant ten minutes ago.”

 

“I’m still waiting on Munch to get his bony butt in gear.”

 

“We’re on our way,” Munch assured with a disapproving frown to his partner as he ushered him out the door.

 

“No pressure, but don’t come home without the murder weapon in hand,” Cragen called after them before turning to Olivia.  “Good, you’re back.  Can I see you for a minute?”

 

“Sure, Cap,” Olivia responded, getting up to follow him into his office.  She crossed her arms over her chest as she leaned against the doorframe.  “What’s up?”

 

“You just missed Kathy Stabler.”

 

“Damn.  Okay, I’ll give her a call.  It looks like tonight’s the night.”

 

“Yeah, why don’t you hold off on that?” Cragen advised as he seated himself.  “At this point I don’t think she can take another set back.”

 

“You’re right,” Olivia agreed with an apologetic wince.  “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”  

 

“Well they didn’t make me Captain just because of my charm and good looks,” Cragen teased, keeping the atmosphere informal.  “By the way, Fuller called.”

 

Olivia straightened abruptly then made an effort not to slam the door as she shut it, silently cursing a certain gray haired FBI agent as she took a chair.  “He didn’t waste any time.  What did he say?” she asked apprehensively.

 

“He’s worried about you.  He thinks Keller scared you off.  I told him you don’t frighten that easily.”

 

“Keller did scare me,” Olivia confessed with a resigned sigh.  “And he did it on purpose.”

 

“Oh?” Cragen asked, his eyebrows climbing swiftly with his surprise.  “Do you mind if I ask what he did?”

 

“You know that expression Elliot gets in the interrogation room right before he tucks in his tie and starts to roll up his sleeves?” Olivia asked softly.  “The one that always makes me think he’s about to bitch slap someone?”

 

Cragen chuckled in understanding.  “I know the one you mean.  If I was a perp, that look would most likely get a confession out of me.”

 

“Well that’s about what I expected from Chris,” Olivia explained.  “I guess I thought their dark sides would be comparable somehow.  I felt like they were mostly the same but maybe Chris had just made a lot worse decisions in his life than Elliot had.”

 

“Obviously you don’t believe that now.”

 

“Now I know better.  We were talking about the dangers of prison life and Chris suddenly got this… this fire in his eyes.  He enjoys the violence.  He gets off on it.”

 

“That’s not unusual for someone who’s done as much hard time as Keller has,” Cragen reasoned.  “I think that’s just an unfortunate byproduct of our penal system.”

 

Olivia slowly shook her head.  “This is more than that.  Fuller said Chris gave me a peek into his psyche.  It was like he literally took away a mask for a second and there was something inside him I have never, ever seen in Elliot.”

 

“What did you see?”

 

“Something evil, I think.  Believe me, I hate to admit it, but Chris is everything Agent Taylor says he is.”

 

Cragen let out a breath then pinned her with a hard look, suddenly all Captain.  “It’s not that I doubt you, Olivia, I trust your instincts implicitly.  But why would he choose to show you that?  It’s certainly not in his best interests.”

 

“I let him get to me,” Olivia admitted reluctantly.  “Maybe I got to him a little, too.”

 

“Is that why you kissed him?”

 

Olivia faltered then snorted her indignation, not surprised how completely Fuller had ratted her out.  “I suppose.”

 

“He let you off the hook,” Cragen observed.  “That doesn’t sound so evil to me.”

 

“I realize that,” Olivia snapped before bringing her tone down a little.  “Look, I know the man is an enigma.  I was ready to lead the fight to clear his name from the FBI, but now I want to nail him to the wall.”

 

“Putting aside your personal feelings for a minute, aren’t you forgetting someone?” Cragen queried gently.  “How is Elliot going to feel if his partner brings down his brother?”

 

Olivia paused to consider the question.  “So what should I do?” she asked miserably.

 

“Stay out of it.  Even if the Feds don’t get him, the chances are better than not Keller will die in prison.  So unless the walls around Oz come tumbling down sometime in the next fifty years, he’s no threat to society.  It’s out of our jurisdiction anyway.”

 

After another minute of reflection Olivia finally let it go.  “Thanks,” she said.  “But what do I tell Elliot?”

 

“Welcome home?” Cragen suggested sagely.  “And I hope you get to tell him soon.”  

 

***

 

When Elliot got back to the pod Dwayne jumped to his feet, wringing his hands fretfully.  He cleared his throat but couldn’t quite manage to string together any words.

 

“Relax,” Elliot advised irritably as he rolled into his bunk, situating himself so he could watch the comings and goings of Em City below him.  “I told McManus there’s a hit out on you.  I think he bought it.  They should be moving you into protective custody soon.”

 

A gasp sounded behind him and Elliot couldn’t help but glance over to see Dwayne fairly drooping with relief.  “Thank God, oh, thank God.”

 

“I don’t think God had a lot to do with your mess,” Elliot smirked.

 

“Oh I know, I know,” Dwayne started his nervous chatter.  “I can’t thank you enough.  I thought for sure you were going to back out of our deal.”

 

“I should have,” Elliot muttered, turning away.  He might eventually forgive the betrayal, but he couldn’t afford to forget it.  “That little stunt could have gotten me killed.  Hell, it still might.”

 

“I’m sorry.  I am so sorry,” Dwayne said softly.  “I just… I…  I panicked.  O’Reily said things, he acted like he knew, and I thought he really knew.  I promise it won’t happen again.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

“No, seriously, you can count on me,” Dwayne insisted, dropping down to kneel next to the bed.  “Beecher was right.  If I got you killed, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.  From now on I’m going to watch your back.  Consider me your very own guardian angel.”

 

“Lucky me,” Elliot swore with a dubious chuckle, never taking his eyes off the target area below.  

 

“You’ll see,” Dwayne promised determinedly as he settled on the floor next to the bed to help Elliot wait.

 

***

 

Since Sister Pete had yet to make an appearance, the self-proclaimed addicts took their sweet time finding seats in the semi-circle of folding chairs on the stage, except for Hill of course, who merely rolled into an empty spot.  Ryan took advantage of the momentary wanderings and dropped into the chair next to Beecher, who didn’t even try to cover an annoyed grimace.

 

“So you like the rough stuff,” he began conversationally but in a tone slightly lower than the bullshitting going on around them.  “That surprises me.  You don’t seem like the type.”

 

“The type?” Beecher asked, appearing to think it over for a minute.  “Actually, Chris likes it rough.  I just like Chris.  Any old way I can get him,” he added lasciviously.  

 

Ryan wrinkled his nose in disgust, but he wouldn’t really be able to accept Keller’s story until he could compare it to Beecher’s version of events.  “I guess he kinda went crazy on your ass, huh?” he persisted.

 

“You could say that,” Beecher assured with a twitch of his lip that didn’t quite emerge as a full fledged smirk.  Even for a student of body language like Ryan, the nervy little bastard was hard to read in his saner moments.

 

“Yeah?” Ryan fished a little harder.  “It looks like he almost did you in.  But you got him back.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You weren’t the only one to get hurt,” Ryan prodded expectantly, giving only enough information to elicit a response, or enough rope for Beecher to hang himself.  And the Keller look-a-like, if that turned out to be the case after all.

 

“He showed you his dick?” Beecher blurted out loud enough that everyone stopped gabbing to look at them.

 

“No,” Ryan denied at once.  “You know I don’t roll that way,” he said for the benefit of the crowd, glaring as Beecher grinned triumphantly.  “Fuck.  I just wondered what you did to it, that’s all.”

 

“Well I didn’t bite it if that’s what you mean,” Beecher muttered with a haughty sniff.  “I just gave it a little… squeeze,” he replied as he cheerfully tightened his fist in front of him as a visual aid.

 

“Forget I asked, okay?” Ryan backpedaled, satisfied by Beecher’s reaction and more than ready to drop the matter.  Instead he turned his thoughts to how he was going to get even with Halstead for making him look like an idiot.  Only Beecher seemed to be warming to the topic in diametric opposition to his own disdain.

 

“I wasn’t tying to hurt him.  I was just trying to get his attention because I thought for a minute there he was actually going to snuff me, in the heat of the moment, you know.”

 

“Yeah, I don’t really want to hear the details.”

 

“You sure?” Beecher deviled.  “I can give you a blow by blow of the action,” he said, using his tongue and lips to enunciate each ‘blow’ suggestively.

 

“No thanks,” Ryan grunted, trying to keep his cool as he looked around to make sure no one else was still listening.

 

“Aw come on, it’s scintillating.  It’ll give you some nice images to whack off to.”

 

“Beecher, if I ever get that hard up, I swear to God, I’ll fucking kill myself.”

 

“Ryan, don’t swear,” Sister Pete gasped as she finally showed up just in time to catch his erstwhile proclamation.  “Is there something you’d like to talk about?  I’ll clear some time for you this afternoon.”

 

“That’s probably a good idea, Ryan,” Beecher promptly agreed, going from sex kitten to choir boy in under a second flat as he folded his hands in his lap.  “You’ve got issues.”

 

***

 

Elliot didn’t have a direct line of sight on the gate but he could easily catch any movement in the area from the reflection off the glass of the lower pods.  Shortly after settling in for what he considered an unusually comfortable stakeout he watched as a small group of prisoners was herded across the quad and out the gate, each burdened with his own scant belongings.  From the reluctance of their shuffling feet he gathered they weren’t soon-to-be-free parolees, just unlucky exiles from Emerald City.  

 

“I guess you pricks fucked up, didn’t you?” Elliot asked with an unsympathetic grin as he wondered what transgressions they might have committed to get kicked back to gen pop.  He didn’t get a reply from his guardian angel, who had fallen asleep propped against the end of the bunk, but he didn’t really expect one either.  He decided he liked Dwayne a lot better when he was unconscious, as long as he didn’t start to snore.  Then it would be a tough call, depending on how loud he got.

 

Toby had said the rehab group would meet for an hour but Elliot’s internal clock told him he hadn’t kept his vigil for much more than twenty minutes.  Nevertheless, the way time dragged in Oz he wished he had his watch if only for confirmation.  Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long before the gate opened again.  Elliot perked up as an old prisoner escorted a new one across the common area and into the pod Toby’s roommate had occupied until right after lunch.

 

“Wake up, Clarence,” Elliot said as he jostled Dwayne with his booted foot before jumping up and moving to the door.  “It’s time to earn your wings.”

 

“Huh?  Who’s Clarence?” Dwayne muttered as he jerked his head upright.  

 

“Come on,” Elliot ordered, not waiting around for the other man to get to his feet before heading for the stairs.  He had no doubt Dwayne would follow and wasn’t disappointed when he practically ran to catch up.  

 

With one catastrophe after another dealt with as best he could, it was finally time for the real action.  Freedom suddenly loomed before him but Elliot had to remind himself to stay focused.  Even though it had been days since he’d seen the file, complete with a mini-album of surveillance photos, he was positive Vincent ‘The Stitch’ Franco had just arrived in Em City.  

 

Once tailor to the mob and sometime assassin, Franco was a little older than most of the inmates, with the notable exceptions of Rebadow and Busmalis, but he appeared to be in excellent shape.  He wasn’t especially big or tall, but he moved with such a confident bearing he was hard to miss.  However something about his demeanor was off.  To Elliot’s mind, the man didn’t conduct himself like someone in the Mafia’s crosshairs.

 

“Act like you got a pair,” Elliot remembered Chris’ advice out loud, wondering if it would even buy ‘The Stitch’ another day.

 

“What?” Dwayne asked in his perpetual state of confusion as he nearly slammed into Elliot’s back when he paused on the last step.

 

“Let’s play cards,” Elliot decided, grabbing a deck off one table as he worked his way over to another empty one closer to the pod his mark would now be calling ‘home’.

 

“I don’t want to,” Dwayne objected as he anxiously checked out the handful of men scattered around the other tables.  

 

Elliot dropped into a chair and began to shuffle, casually glancing over to see Franco standing with his back to the door as he got acquainted with his new podmate.  “Yes you do,” he told Dwayne firmly.

 

Dwayne looked embarrassed as he took a seat and leaned in close.   “I don’t know how,” he explained in a strained whisper.

 

“You don’t know how to play cards?” Elliot asked in disbelief as he stopped shuffling to stare at him.

 

“No.”

 

“First you don’t know how to play chess and now you’re telling me you don’t even know one card game?”  At a loss as he scratched his eyebrow with his thumb.  

 

“I was an only child.”

 

“But you went to school, right?” Elliot grappled for an explanation he could comprehend.  “I mean you had to have some kind of social activity with other children.”

 

“I read.  A lot.”

 

“At least Jimmy Stewart had something to work with,” Elliot swore under his breath.  “Come on, Dwayne, think hard.  Ya gotta know some kind of card game.”

 

“Go fish?” Dwayne offered sheepishly.

 

“Any other time I might take you up on that,” Elliot laughed lightly as he took pity on the other man and began to deal.  “But I don’t really think ‘go fish’ is a wise choice here, my friend.  Pay attention, this is five card draw.”

 

“Poker?”

 

“Yeah, poker.”

 

Dwayne nodded thoughtfully as he studied his cards.  “So what do I do?”

 

“Pairs are good, three of a kind and four of a kind are even better,” Elliot lectured offhandedly, keeping an eye on the pod behind Dwayne.  “If all your cards are the same suit…”

 

“Suit?” Dwayne interrupted.  “Like hearts or spades?”

 

“Yeah, or diamonds or clubs or if the numbers are all in a row, those are good hands.  Look at what you’ve got and keep the good ones then discard the rest.”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“It doesn’t matter, we’re not playing for money,” Elliot reminded him tolerantly.

 

Dwayne made some funny noises and shifted his cards around in his hand.  “I’m not sure,” he sighed.

 

“Okay, let me see what you’ve got.”

 

“No,” Dwayne refused, looking scandalized as he held his cards to his chest out of reach of Elliot’s outstretched hand.

 

Dropping his arm, Elliot bit the inside of his cheek and counted to ten as he studied the ceiling high above.  Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly before meeting Dwayne’s stubborn stare.  “Have you got any fours?” he finally asked, tapping into a store of patience he didn’t know he had.

 

Dwayne blinked then a grateful smile spread across his face.  “Go fish,” he said softly.

 

***

 

That no one bothered them as Elliot trounced his less experienced opponent would appear to speak volumes about Chris’ street cred.  Except that as a whole the gathering in the common area was a lot more interested in sizing up the next round of newbies as they transferred in than they were about the two of them indulging in a child’s game.  When Halstead refused to play again after the first loss they continued to sit at the table.  Dwayne got in some much needed practice shuffling cards and Elliot pretended to coach him while keeping up his covert surveillance.  

 

“What’s Franco doin’ in there?  Telling his life story?” Elliot groused to himself as the minutes slowly ticked by.  

 

Hanging out in his pod was a pretty good defense strategy for someone with his head on the chopping block, but surely the other guy had somewhere to be.  Never being caught without a buddy was another good tactic for staying alive in prison and Franco seemed as determined to make a friend as Dwayne had been.  The difference being Elliot doubted the fallen Mafioso would go so far as to offer up his ass.  

 

Realizing he probably wouldn’t ever catch Franco completely alone Elliot decided to approach anyway and politely ask the podmate to step out for a minute.  It seemed like a good idea, elegant in its simplicity.  Unfortunately the rest of Em City’s resident Italians chose that moment to come through the gate after spending their morning and early afternoon managing the kitchen.  The last thing Elliot wanted to do was make them think Chris was in bed with a Mafia snitch so he aborted his plan for the moment, once again biding his time.

 

The ranking wiseguy in Oz settled at a table with his posse and soon they were involved in what looked like a three-handed game of pinochle.  No stranger to the weight room himself, Elliot couldn’t help but be a little awed by Pancamo’s physique.  The mobster was built like a brick shithouse.  A bottled tan set off the ripped body making him further stand out from the prison pallor of just about every other Caucasian slug in the joint.  As he played cards and joked with his men the animated face under the Elvis Presley hair belied the ruthlessness that had landed Chucky in prison in the first place.

 

But the most impressive thing about Pancamo was the noticeable devotion of his henchmen.  And they were diligent, too.  Both frequently scanned their surroundings taking in everything around them which freed their boss from the worry of security issues.  Elliot knew the instant Franco was spotted as one thug leaned in close to whisper in Pancamo’s ear.  A cool customer, the big man merely nodded without looking up from his cards, never letting on what he was thinking.

 

To Elliot’s alarm Franco decided to come out of hiding and audaciously headed straight to the Italianos’ table.  More surprising was the fact that no one challenged his approach, as if he wasn’t even worthy of their concern.  Admittedly, Franco did tone down the pompous air about him as he knelt next to Pancamo’s chair to speak to him.  Elliot strained to hear what he said but he was too far away and there wasn’t a reasonable excuse to move closer.  As he caught himself staring he realized that everyone else was watching the scene as well and turning away would only make him stand out.

 

Pancamo didn’t bother to look at Franco until he finished playing his hand.  When he finally did spare him a glance it was with an annoyed frown.  Then he publicly brushed off the smaller man’s attempt to kiss him on the cheek in the traditional display of respect.  The meeting was over before it began and Franco seemed beside himself when Pancamo waved him off.  Prudently, he didn’t argue and even stepped back before stopping to get his bearings.  His gaze came to rest on the small glassed-in room across the quad where the prisoners could make phone calls.  He hurried in that direction like his ass was on fire… and all by himself.

 

“Finally,” Elliot muttered, getting to his feet to follow.

 

“Well that was certainly interesting,” a voice noted from behind him.

 

“Not now, Rebadow,” Elliot said as he quickly pushed past the older man, not even pausing to wonder when he’d gotten out of the infirmary.

 

Releasing a sigh of frustration, Rebadow looked around for someone else with whom he could share his observations.  His usual confidants were still out of pocket, but most were due to return from drug rehab any minute.  Dwayne shrugged at him as he meekly trailed behind Elliot.  

 

A long-haired guy who looked like he really needed to be in Sister Pete’s group staggered out of the phone room and Franco practically ran him down in the doorway.  “Hey, watch it,” the man objected before aimlessly wandering away.

 

Elliot got there a second later and glanced around to make sure no one was looking their way.  “Wait out here,” he told Dwayne before he tugged the door open and stepped into the room.

 

Dwayne nodded nervously but did as he was told and positioned himself with his back to the glass.  Even so he appeared ready to duck inside at a moment’s notice as he glanced around furtively.

 

Out of the four phones, two were clearly marked ‘out of order’.  In a blind panic, Franco struggled to punch in his calling card number on one of the broken ones.  In contrast to his previous showing in the art of self-preservation, he didn’t even notice there was someone behind him until Elliot tapped him on the back.   

 

“That one doesn’t work.”

 

Startled, Franco grasped his chest with the hand still holding the handset as he whirled around, wrapping the metal cord around his shoulders.  “Back off, asshole,” he snarled in a voice rife with false bravado.  “I guess you didn’t notice who I was just talking to.”

 

“Oh you mean Mr. Pancamo?” Elliot asked as he leaned a shoulder against the wall.  “Yeah, I caught that.  In fact I saw him dis you in front of God and everybody.  That makes you fair game for every douche bag in the place and you know it.”

 

Franco’s face fell as the truth struck home.  If he’d thought he would somehow be able to ingratiate himself to Pancamo the delusion was now gone.  “What do you want?” he asked in defeat.  “Don’t hurt me, I can pay.”

 

“Relax.  I don’t want your money,” Elliot cut to chase, eager to get the conversation over with. “Fuller sent me.”

 

The expected relief never showed on Franco’s face.  Instead his fingers went white where he gripped the phone.  “What did you say?”

 

“Special Agent Fuller from the FBI, I take it you know him?”

 

“Sonofabitch,” Franco ground out between clenched teeth.  “Son of a hairy bitch!  This is his doing?”  

 

“He’s been trying to get someone in to protective custody to talk to you for weeks but all his efforts have failed.  He thinks there’s someone on the inside mucking things up …” Elliot trailed off as he caught the other man’s suddenly defiant glare.  “It was you,” he surmised, narrowing his eyes as he straightened up.  “You’re the one who’s been sabotaging the operation.”

 

“I warned him.  I told him to leave me alone.”

 

“Whatever deal you made with Fuller, you can’t just back out on it now,” Elliot pointed out furiously.

 

“Or what?” Franco laughed with a hysterical edge in his voice.  “Or he’ll dump me back out in the open?  Too late!”

 

“Look, give me something to take to Fuller and I’m sure he’ll put you back where you’re safe.”

 

“News flash, Jack,” Franco spat out, “I ain’t gonna live that long.”

 

“Give me something,” Elliot insisted heatedly, not ready to write the ordeal off as a total failure.

 

“Don’t you understand?” Franco practically begged.  “I don’t have any more information to give him.  Fuller bled me dry a long time ago.  I told him what he wanted to hear and then I started to make things up.  But I’m fresh out of bullshit.”

 

“So you got a deep cover agent killed to cover your own ass,” Elliot growled as he turned to go, angry at Franco, angrier at Fuller for sending him on a very dangerous wild goose chase.  

 

“You’ve got to protect me,” Franco pled, grabbing Elliot’s arm.  “I was never a made man, I lived my whole life on the outside looking in.  No matter what I did men like Pancamo never trusted me.”

 

“Save it for your tombstone,” Elliot retorted as he jerked his arm away.

 

“Wait!” Franco shouted, furious and desperate.  He struck Elliot in the middle of his bruised forehead with the handset of the phone as hard as he could swing it.  “Take that to Fuller, you fucking narc.”

 

The explosion of pain took Elliot down but he managed to throw up an arm to ward off a second strike.  He grabbed Franco’s leg and tried to lever himself up until the rapid onset of vertigo sapped his strength and sent him spiraling back to the floor.  As darkness overtook him he felt the force of the blow as Franco was slammed into the wall but Elliot didn’t stay conscious long enough to witness the ensuing struggle.

 

***

 

As he guarded the door Dwayne felt like his heart was beating faster than it had ever beaten in his entire life except, of course, for his first day in Em City when the mean men had taken his money, his watch, and what was left of his pride.  Or the day he met Tobias Beecher and heard all about his soon to be returning podmate.  Or the times he got smacked around in the laundry room, and the computer room, oh, and right in front of the TV.  But especially when Ryan O’Reily had shown up in the hall outside the dress factory to ‘share’ anecdotes about his good buddy Keller.  

 

Dwayne realized he was getting to an age when a man needed to start thinking about his heart.  He found a second to regret his penchant for fried foods back when he’d had a choice about what he ate.  Back before all his choices had been taken away.  Glancing over his shoulder he saw the cop leaning on the wall and looking like anything but one of the good guys.  If the real Keller was truly scarier than this man, Dwayne was glad he wasn’t going to be sticking around to meet him.

 

An instant later voices were raised inside the room and Dwayne risked another look.  Both men were angry but he was sure his big friend wouldn’t need any help with the arrogant little shrimp who was shouting at him.  Dwayne’s mind took another detour, this time wondering why so many of the phones always seemed to be broken in the otherwise nice facility.  Bad tempered men receiving bad news he decided.  Animals.

 

When he turned back toward the quad he nearly wet his pants when he saw three muscle-bound men heading his way.  And not just any men.  He’d heard rumors that these particular brutes had ties to the Mafia.  He didn’t believe everything he heard, anymore, but these fellows were actually Italian.  At least they looked Italian to him.  Worse, they looked like they intended to make a phone call and as he had no intention of standing in their way Dwayne fled to the only safety he knew.  

 

He yanked the door open and barreled through still watching behind him.  Tripping over his shoelace he tumbled headlong into someone.  He closed his eyes and hoped it was the small guy as they impacted with the wall.  Hard.  His feet got hopelessly tangled with something sprawled in the floor and he twisted away a hundred and eighty degrees.  As he fell in the opposite direction someone got caught up in his spinning momentum.  Trying to stay upright he grabbed a hard piece of plastic that jabbed him in the chin and held on tight as he seemed to dangle in mid-air.  Hands batted at him relentlessly as the most horrible noise he ever heard gasped and grated in his ear.  

 

The struggle seemed to last a lifetime but eventually the movement stopped and a dead weight slumped against him even as the arms dropped away.  Still out of his mind with fright Dwayne opened his eyes to stare into the lifeless ones of the man hanging by the phone cord above him.  He shrieked in terror as he released the handset and landed on the unresponsive form below him.  Unfortunately his own weight on the cord was the only thing keeping the corpse in place so when he let go it unwound its deadly coil and the body rolled right down on top of him.  

 

Too stunned to think, Dwayne lay in the middle of the carnage as he slowly turned his head to the glass wall in the hopes of finding help.  Just outside the Italians gaped at him incredulously.  Finally the biggest man nodded his approval and smiled before walking away.  Dwayne promptly passed out.  

 

Not more than a minute later there was a lot of shouting as hands tugged and pushed at him roughly.  “Move over you worthless piece of shit,” the words finally began to sink in.  “We need help in here!”

 

With every last ounce of his strength Dwayne heaved the body on top of him away and scrambled to a sitting position with his back against the wall.  The action freed up ‘Keller’ and Beecher grabbed him under the arms and quickly dragged him to the other side of the small room.  O’Reily stood in the doorway but stepped aside as the gathering crowd parted to let the hacks in.  

 

“What the hell happened?” Murphy questioned as he stormed into the room.  “Beecher?”

 

“I don’t know,” Beecher explained hastily as he shrugged off the hand of the guard trying to pull him away from the man everyone assumed to be his lover.  “I saw the bodies when we came down the hall.  Get off me!  I’m not leaving him.”

 

“It’s okay,” Murphy interceded, instructing the CO to let them be.

 

“This one’s dead,” another hack confirmed when he couldn’t find a pulse on the other victim.

 

Dwayne froze, staring at the man he had inadvertently strangled in front of the Mob.

 

“Halstead.  Halstead,” Murphy repeated as he knelt next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I think he’s in shock,” he reported to the newest arrival in the crowded room.  

 

“Keller told me there was a contract out on Halstead,” McManus replied, releasing a heavy breath as he stopped just inside the door.  “I guess it’s no coincidence he was attacked by a convicted assassin.”

 

“Where the hell are the medics?” Beecher cut in anxiously.

 

“Take it easy, Beecher.  They’re on the way,” McManus soothed.  “I guess we don’t have to put Halstead into protective custody now.”

 

“I don’t know, Tim.  Just because this one failed don’t mean the next one will,” Murphy pointed out, “Especially with Keller out of the picture.”

 

“He’s waking up,” Beecher announced as the man on the floor groaned.

 

“Dwayne?” came a hoarse enquiry.

 

“He’s fine,” Beecher assured with a grin as he continued to hover.  “In fact he’s a lot better than you are right now.”

 

Touched by the concern, Dwayne pushed away from Murphy and crawled over to his only friend.  “Are you okay?” he asked, finally finding his voice.

 

“You saved my life.”

 

“I guess I did,” Dwayne uttered in amazement.  “I killed that guy.”

 

“You killed him?” McManus questioned doubtfully.

 

“I had to,” Dwayne lied, liking the way it felt to be a hero.  “He was attacking… Keller.  He… he was trying to murder him.  I had to protect him.”

 

“Huh,” was all Murphy could manage.

 

“Oh my God,” Doctor Nathan exclaimed as she physically pushed Ryan O’Reily away from her and came through the door.  Beecher pulled Dwayne back a little as she dropped down next to Keller.  “That’s it,” she whispered fiercely.  “I’m pulling the plug right now.”

 

‘Keller’ glanced toward the body beneath the phone and solemnly nodded his agreement.

 

“What’s going on?” McManus asked.

 

“I’m sending him to Bench for a head CT,” Nathan covered quickly as her team moved in to load the patient onto a gurney.  “Have someone in the infirmary call for an ambulance,” she told one of the hacks who obeyed by speaking into his radio.

 

“Thanks, Stone,” Keller said groggily as they rolled him out.

 

Dwayne started to shake as the adrenaline rush faded but it didn’t slow the ear to ear grin that spread across his face at the nickname.  Keller stopped the gurney in the door by placing a hand on the wall as he reached back to Beecher with the other.  For a second Dwayne thought he was going to kiss him but he merely spoke softly in his ear when he leaned forward.  

 

Beecher swallowed once and nodded as Keller removed his hand and let the medical team wheel him towards the gate.

 

“What did he say?” Dwayne asked quietly.

 

“He said aloe is good for burns,” Beecher replied, allowing himself to smile.

 

***

 

Dressed in his brother’s gym clothes Chris rested on his stomach, red in the face and covered in sweat as he tried to catch his breath.  His arms and shoulders throbbed from so many pushups he’d lost count but he still felt agitated, like he was balancing on the edge of his sanity.  He wasn’t sure he could take another six minutes trapped in the tiny room, let alone the six hours Fuller predicted.  And if the operation dragged on for another day, he would go crazy.  When the buzzer sounded he pushed back up on his arms and got to his feet to face ‘the agent in charge’ as he stepped into the room.

 

“You’ve got thirty minutes.  Pack your stuff,” Fuller informed him, dropping a disposable razor onto the tabletop.

 

“You said we wouldn’t leave until tonight,” Chris countered suspiciously as he moved closer to the table to retrieve the razor.  

 

“Change of plans.  The op is over.”

 

Chris put a hand on the back of a chair to steady himself as his blood ran cold. “Elliot?”

 

Fuller seemed reluctant to answer but met Chris’ challenging glare head on.  “He’s at Benchley Memorial,” he said at last.

 

The attack was swift and precise.  Chris lunged past the table and captured the agent by the neck in one fluid movement, dragging him backwards into the corner as the guard burst into the room armed with a nightstick.  

 

“He’s alive,” Fuller managed in spite of the arm across his windpipe.  “I can’t say the same for my informant.”

 

“What happened?” Chris asked with an angry growl, confident his hands were the only weapon he needed.  By the look in his eyes the guard knew if he tried anything Fuller would be dead before he could get to him.  

 

“All I know right now is Stabler got hit in the head and Doctor Nathan used it as an excuse to get him out of Oz.  She says he’ll be fine.  Release me unharmed and I’ll take you to the hospital to say good-bye.”

 

“Yeah?” Chris flexed his forearm just enough to remind Fuller who was in the driver’s seat.

 

Fuller gasped in pain.  “Have I ever lied to you?”

 

Chris took his time to mentally sort through the various conversations they’d had and he couldn’t actually come up with an outright lie.  Not from Fuller anyway.  Taylor he wasn’t so sure about, but Taylor hadn’t been around in days.  “Have your boy back up.”  He eased his grip and patted Fuller on the chest but kept him in a loose embrace.  

 

With a nod to the irate guard Fuller straightened up and loosened his tie to rub his neck as Chris let him go.  “Thirty minutes,” he reminded as he headed to the door, furiously trying to brush off the other man’s sweat from the front of his suit coat.  The guard tapped his palm with his nightstick in a meaningful warning as he backed out as well.

 

Anxious and worried Chris cleaned up, dressed and packed in half the allotted time, leaving the razor in full view on the table when he was done with it.  “Let’s go,” he shouted, looking directly into camera.  

 

But Fuller ever true to his word let him cool his heels for another fifteen minutes before showing back up to watch two other agents roughly shackle Chris’ arms and legs to his waist.  One of them grabbed Elliot’s carryall and the other guided him down the stairs, a tricky proposition in the full set of chains as a tight-lipped Fuller trailed along behind them.

 

His mind otherwise occupied, Chris hadn’t even thought to ask for one last smoke.  He doubted that wish would have been granted anyway after the assault on Fuller and wondered if maybe they had expected the move.  Silently he cursed himself for being so predictable as he watched the scenery roll past.  But the drive gave him ample time to consider what he would do if Elliot wasn’t okay.  

 

A little more than an hour later he was given a hat and some sunglasses before they unloaded him still shackled at the service entrance of the hospital.  The few housekeeping employees who witnessed the bizarre parade to the back elevator raised eyebrows but minded their own business.  

 

“We’ve acquired an isolation suite,” Fuller informed him on the way up.  “That way we can control traffic in and out and maintain a greater degree of privacy.”

 

Private maybe, but hardly subtle Chris thought as they arrived on the infection control floor where one area was partitioned off with armed guards in front of a door.  Having been a guest at Bench a time or two himself, Chris knew it wasn’t SOP for prisoners.

 

“He just got back from X-ray,” one of the agents reported to Fuller as he opened the door and ushered the group into a little anti-room.  “The doctor is in with him now.”

 

The room was wide enough for a bed to be wheeled in and still allow the doors on each end to close at the same time.  Chris noticed a downward blast of air as he passed through the outer door.  There was a sink and some cabinets on one side of the doors and two chairs and a hamper on the other.

 

“Have a seat,” Fuller instructed Chris as he relieved him of his weak disguise, laying the hat and glasses on the cabinet.

 

Chris obeyed and shuffled over to the first chair to the soft clinking of chains as he sat.  Fuller watched him then tapped on the inner door with a knuckle before slipping inside.  The agent with the bag dropped it to the floor and nudged it out of the way before taking up a position near the sink.  The other one went back out into the hall.

 

A few minutes later the outside door opened again and Chris looked up to see an obviously stressed woman staring at him.  A boy and a girl held her hands on either side.

 

“Dad?” one of the children asked as they both rushed forward.

 

As Chris got to his feet they threw their arms around him.  He tried to still the swinging chains before a stray finger could accidentally get pinched as he glanced up again at the woman but his bewilderment passed quickly as he realized this was Elliot’s family, and by extension, his.

 

“Hey,” the woman told the kids gently as she tugged them back.  “This isn’t Dad; it’s your Uncle Chris.”

 

“Hi.” Chris grinned down at them as they stepped back in disbelief.

 

“Whoa,” the boy exclaimed with wide eyes as he gawked unashamedly.

 

“We’re twins, too,” the girl said, poking her brother.  “Like you and Dad.”

 

“Yeah? You don’t look like twins to me,” Chris teased.

 

“We’re fraternal,” the girl explained with an impatient sigh.  “Not identical.  Thank God.”

 

“That’s enough,” Mom declared as she stepped in tentatively to hug Chris, too.  “I’m Kathy,” she introduced herself.  “It’s nice to finally meet you.  This is Dickie and Lizzy.”

 

Flustered by the warm greeting, Chris didn’t know what to say but he smiled and tried to swallow the lump in his throat.  “I thought Elliot had four rug rats?” he asked, his voice slightly husky with unexpected emotion.

 

Kathy laughed.  “I’d already picked up the twins from school when I got the call from Agent Fuller so we drove straight here.  The older two, Maureen and Kathleen are home now.  They’re mad at me for not taking the time to go back and get them.”

 

“Sorry I missed them.”

 

“Some other time,” Kathy assured.  “I know they want to meet you.”

 

Fuller opened the door and cleared his throat as he stepped out.  “Mrs. Stabler?” he asked in surprise.

 

“Yes.”

 

“I didn’t expect you so soon.  The doctor is speaking with your husband.  Why don’t you go in?”

 

Kathy anxiously moved forward then stopped to look at the twins.

 

“I’ll keep an eye on them,” Chris offered hopefully.

 

“Okay,” Kathy agreed right away without any evident concern.  “It’ll give you a chance to get to know each other.  Be good for Uncle Chris,” she cautioned the kids before disappearing through the door.

 

Fuller didn’t seem too happy about the arrangement as he pushed the hamper out of the way and took a seat in the second chair, obviously not as trusting of Chris’ intentions.

 

Chris rolled his eyes at the unnecessary precautions and sat back down.  “Talk to me,” he encouraged the kids, delighted when Lizzy slid in to settle on his knee.  Dickie didn’t sit in his lap but stood close enough to examine the setup of the shackles.  

 

“So how old are you?” Chris asked Lizzy as she reached up to trace the faded bruise on his forehead.

 

“You don’t know?”

 

“No.”

 

“Guess.”

 

“I don’t know, like twenty-five?”

 

Lizzy giggled.  “No, we’re almost eleven.  In seven months.”

 

“Oh,” Chris nodded.  “So you don’t drive yet then, huh?”

 

“You’re silly.”

 

“Are you a bad man?” Dickie asked.

 

Taken aback, Chris managed a shrug.  “I’ve done some bad things.”

 

“Like what?”

 

Chris reluctantly met the inquisitive eyes and sighed.  “You mean why am I in prison?”

 

“You’re not in prison,” Lizzy corrected.  “You’re in a hospital.”

 

“Well, yeah, right this minute, smarty-pants,” Chris agreed as he tickled her with his bound hands.  

 

Lizzy laughed and squirmed away but came right back to snuggle even closer.  “Do you have to go back to jail?”

 

“Yeah, they’ll take me back right after I see your dad.”

 

“Are you a pedophile?”  Dickie questioned with a straight forward interrogative style reminiscent of his father as he crossed his arms over his skinny chest.  

 

“No,” Chris answered defensively shooting an angry look Fuller’s way as he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the inquisition.  “How do you even know what that is?”

 

“Dad puts pedophiles in jail.  He hates them,” Dickie explained.  “Did you kill somebody?”

 

“I robbed a grocery store and shot the clerk,” Chris admitted, slightly resentful of being taken to task by a little kid.  “He died.”

 

Seemingly content with Chris’ sanitized version of the truth, Dickie moved on.  “Do you hate Dad?  Cause he’s a cop and you’re a robber?”

 

“Of course not,” Chris denied vehemently.  “He’s my brother and he’s a good man.  I’m proud of him.”

 

“When will you get out jail?” Lizzy enquired as she slipped her hand into his.

 

“Not for a long, long time, sweetie,” Chris explained gently, leaning in to brush his lips across her forehead.

 

Dickie looked disappointed, too.  “You’re not gonna come for Christmas?”

 

Suddenly very sad, Chris shook his head.  “Maybe when you’ve got grandkids,” he mumbled, really wishing he could reach his eyes to wipe away the gathering moisture.

 

***

 

“Go,” Cragen told Olivia as soon as he got the call from the FBI.  And she did go without a second thought, even if the details were a bit sketchy.  All they knew for sure was the operation was a bust and Elliot had been sent by ambulance to Benchley Memorial.  

 

The hospital was a lot closer to Oz than Manhattan but it didn’t matter.  It was over and Elliot was out.  Come hell or high water Olivia was going to see her partner.  Not knowing his condition left her to imagine all sorts of horrible things on the way.  The drive seemed to take forever but after a brief stop for gas and directions the large, otherwise unremarkable white building finally loomed into view.

 

“Elliot Stabler?” Olivia asked as she rushed up to the information desk in the lobby.  “He was admitted today.”

 

The elderly volunteer behind the counter spelled Stabler to herself as she carefully entered each letter into her computer with fingers crooked by arthritis.  “No, no, I don’t have anyone by that name today or any other time.”

 

Olivia thought quickly, deciding they might have him under his brother’s name since he’d come straight from Oz.  “Try Christopher Keller.”

 

Dutifully typing in Chris’ name the woman once again shook her head.  “I’m sorry, dear, are you sure you have the right hospital?”

 

Releasing an exasperated breath and wondering why Fuller still felt the need to play it so coy, Olivia resorted to a little badge flashing.  “A prisoner was brought here from Oswald today,” she said as she stuck her ID under the woman’s nose.  “I don’t know what name they admitted him under but I’ll go room to room to find him if I have to.”

 

“A prisoner, you say?” the old girl clarified before tapping a little more swiftly on her keyboard.  “Why yes, we did receive a transfer from the prison this afternoon, a Mister John Doe.”

 

Certain she’d found him, Olivia’s mouth went dry as she asked her next question.  “What’s his condition?”

 

“He’s listed as stable.”  Olivia released a huge sigh of relief as the woman adjusted her glasses and continued to read the information on her computer screen.  “That’s odd.  He’s just in for observation but he’s in an infection control room.  They probably won’t be allowing visitors.”

 

“Where?”

 

“Room four twelve.”  

 

“Thank you,” Olivia said as she tucked her badge into her pocket and headed for the main bank of elevators.  

 

“You’ll have to sign in when you get up there,” the volunteer called after her helpfully.

 

A few minutes later Olivia walked into the isolation wing.  A familiar face in the corridor got her attention and she headed down the hall without announcing herself at the nurses’ station.  Agent Franks shook his head as she approached but opened a door without a word to reveal several people just inside.

 

When she realized the twins were with their father Olivia faltered in the doorway, not wanting to intrude on their moment.  She felt guilty for not even thinking of his family in her mad rush to the hospital and almost backed away to give them some privacy until Elliot raised his head to look at her.  If the clank of chains as he moved shattered the illusion, it was his eyes that confirmed the man wasn’t Elliot at all.  Chris was with the children and everything in her screamed to get them away from him.

 

“Lizzie, come here,” Olivia demanded in a knee jerk reaction as she caught Dickie by the shoulder and pulled him to her.

 

“Why?” the girl asked, frightened by the urgent tone as she huddled even closer to the source of Olivia’s alarm.

 

“Is there a problem, Detective Benson?” Fuller asked.  He looked almost annoyed by her sudden appearance as he stood from a chair only an arm’s length away.

 

“You know damn well there is,” Olivia hissed at him angrily.

 

Dickie flinched out of her grasp and went back to Chris’ side to gape at her.

 

“It’s okay,” Chris told the kids softly, not even attempting to meet Olivia’s glare.  “You should go with her.”

 

“I wanna stay with you, Uncle Chris,” Lizzie pled as she burrowed her head under his chin, wrapping her arms around his neck like she’d known him her entire life.

 

Chris swallowed and closed his eyes as he leaned into her, whispering comforting words into her hair.  As if wary of any possible allegations he kept his chained hands in fists tight against his own abdomen.  Dickie took a protective stance in front of them, attempting to shield them from Olivia’s rage.  Olivia blinked in shock and took a step back.

 

“I knew I shouldn’t have called Cragen,” Fuller replied as he tried to usher Olivia back into the hall.  “Everything is under control, Detective,” he told her when she refused to budge.  “Their mother knows exactly who they’re with.  I hardly think it’s your place to second guess her.”

 

“He’s dangerous,” Olivia insisted in a harsh murmur too low for the children to hear.

 

Fuller laughed as he took her elbow and firmly escorted her out.  “You don’t have to tell me,” he said, fingering his own throat as Franks stepped inside and closed the door.  “His reaction to his brother’s inauspicious exit from Oz was an adventure to say the least.”

 

“So how can you allow this?” Olivia asked, yanking her arm out of his grasp.

 

“This?  This is family business.  I was dubious at first but I’ve been watching them.  I can say without trepidation that Christopher Keller will not harm those children.  The lion has a lamb inside.  He hasn’t so much as uttered a curse word since he’s been with them.”

 

Olivia blew out a breath and paced away a few steps before turning on him.  “You saw what I saw.”

 

“Yes.  But no one is wholly good or absolutely evil.  It’s a continuum for all of us,” Fuller explained, closing the distance between them to maintain the hushed nature of the conversation.  “The fact that Keller warned you off proves he’s not all bad.  I think he deserves this chance to get to know his niece and nephew a little, that’s all.  In the long run I think it will be good for him.”

 

“Okay, I guess that’s what I don’t understand,” Olivia resisted, shaking her head.  “Why do you care what Chris wants or needs?”
 

“I don’t know,” Fuller confessed with his brow wrinkling in thought.  “Agent Taylor insists that these men are products of their environments and the more I interact with them the more I’m inclined to agree.  He thinks their destinies were decided by the toss of a coin, I suppose that touched me somehow.”  

 

“That’s crap.  And it doesn’t change the fact that Lizzie is cuddled up with a murderer.”

 

“Like it or not, he is her uncle.”

 

“So you decided to give him time alone with the kids,” Olivia accused.

 

“No, Mrs. Stabler did and she knows he’s no saint.  And they are not alone, they are being closely supervised,” Fuller said, losing his polished manner for a second.  “Truthfully, I had hoped we would be long gone before she got here.  Never underestimate the speed of a worried wife.”

 

The door opened and a man in a lab coat emerged.  “Agent Fuller, I’m letting the children have five minutes with their father but then they’re going to have to leave.  That’s hospital policy and since I’m just a guest I can’t do anything about it.”

 

“He’s one of ours,” Fuller explained at Olivia’s questioning look.  “We arranged for temporary privileges here so he can look after Detective Stabler.”

 

“I can take the kids home if Kathy wants me to,” Olivia suggested instead of arguing further as she turned to the doctor.  “How is Elliot?”

 

“Mad as hell,” the doctor grinned.  “I’d hate to be in your shoes,” he told Fuller as he walked away, chart in hand.  

 

Fuller nodded sheepishly.  “It’s not going to be a fun debriefing.  At this point I would almost rather deal with Keller.  At least he’s in chains.”

 

“So what happened?” Olivia couldn’t help but ask even if she didn’t expect a straight answer.

 

“I was duped,” Fuller admitted.  “Please don’t feel the need to comment on my profiling skills.  I saw an opportunity and let my enthusiasm overtake my common sense.”

 

“You mean sending Elliot in as Chris?”

 

“That too, but Stabler tells me the informant wasn’t as committed as I was lead to believe.  The whole operation was based on a sham and now it’s all come down at my feet.  Oh well, I was starting to think about retirement anyway.”

 

“Will it come to that?” Olivia queried, feeling her animosity for the agent waver slightly.  

 

“Probably.  The cost of this mistake was far too high.  And I’m not just talking about the tax payers’ dollars.  We put Stabler and others in danger to get non-existent information, one of whom lost his life.  All I’m going to lose is a job,” Fuller added with a shrug.  “But don’t worry about Taylor; he won’t suffer any of the fallout.”

 

“Believe me, Taylor doesn’t even rate on my worry scale,” Olivia assured.

 

“And Keller?”

 

Olivia harrumphed softly but didn’t try to put her feelings for Chris into words.  

 

“Remind me never to cross you,” Fuller teased, his charm coming back in full force.  “I’m going for coffee.  Can I bring you anything?”

 

“No thanks.”  Olivia watched the older man walk away before opening the door again.  The kids were apparently in with their parents and the two agents stood talking by the sink.  

 

Chris sat staring at his hands and pointedly did not look up when she entered the room.  “They’re my blood,” he said crossly.  “How could you think I would hurt them?”

 

“They’re not your blood, they’re Elliot’s,” Olivia countered as she took the seat next to him.

 

“Same thing.”

 

Before getting into semantics with him Olivia bent to study Chris’ face.  She was surprised to find he wasn’t angry but deeply hurt and all the conman artistry in the world couldn’t cover it.  He looked away and Olivia swore she heard a sniff.  

 

“I haven’t been around a lot of ankle biters,” Chris began in a shaky voice.  “They seem so innocent.  So good.”

 

“You’re right, Elliot does have good kids.”

 

“Yeah?” Chris asked, finally looking up to let her see the raw emotion on his face.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I told them I shot a man and they accepted me anyway.”

 

“What, were you trying to scare them off, too?” Olivia questioned with a futile attempt to keep the bitterness out of her voice.  She didn’t want to let on how much she still felt the sting of being pushed away.

 

“They deserve to know the truth,” Chris answered miserably.  “I never had a family before.  I mean I had a mom, but she had her own problems.  Even when I was married I always felt like it was me against the world.  Maybe that’s why it never worked out.”

 

Something clicked in her mind and Olivia suddenly understood why she’d felt like a kindred spirit to the convict almost from the minute she’d met him.  From an early age they’d both made their way in the world alone.  She reached over and took his hand. “I know.  I never had a real family either.”  

 

Chris smiled at her.  Not seductive or even playful, just an honest, heartfelt smile with no strings attached.  As it faded he just looked tired.  “I’m not a monster,” he said.  “I’m just really self-absorbed.”

 

Olivia squeezed his hand and the ice in her heart towards him melted a little more.  “Who told you that?” she asked.

 

“I don’t know.  Some shrink along the way.  But I think he might have been right.”

 

“Monster, self-absorbed…” Olivia let go of his hand and pretended to balance the two.  “Okay, I guess I can buy that.”

 

“Take care of my brother,” Chris requested, nodding his head in the direction of Elliot’s room.  “He’s the only part of me that’s ever gonna get into heaven.”

 

Before she could answer the door opened and Lizzie and Dickie came tearing out to run straight to their uncle.  “Dad’s got an awesome bruise,” Dickie gushed.  

 

“It’s way worse than yours,” Lizzie added as she jumped back into Chris’ lap.

 

“Sorry,” Kathy sighed from the door.  “They get a little excited.”

 

“Nah, they’re great,” Chris grinned at her with a Keller special, obviously enjoying the attention.

 

“I’d be glad to take the twins home for you,” Olivia volunteered, even though she was no longer worried about their interactions with Chris.

 

“That’s okay,” Kathy replied.  “They’re going to keep Elliot over night and he needs some stuff from home.  I’m going to have Maureen meet us halfway.  He also wants to get his debriefing with the FBI over with and I’d just be in the way.”

 

“You’re leaving?” Chris asked, sounding disappointed.

 

Kathy leaned over and kissed his cheek.  “Elliot’s going to give you our number.  If you need anything, you call.  Understand?”

 

“Yes ma’am.”

 

“I’m going to make you a birthday card,” Lizzie announced as she stood and hugged him.

 

“I can’t wait to see it,” Chris told her with a pained smile.

 

“Bye Uncle Chris,” Dickie said as he unexpectedly gave him a hug, too.

 

“Bye, Dickie.”

 

“I’ll walk down with you.” Olivia got up as Kathy herded the kids out into the hall.  “Be right back,” she told Chris before walking out the door.

 

Chris turned to Franks.  “Can I go in now?” he asked a little anxiously.

 

***

 

That Elliot had known Chris was nearby at least a minute before Fuller had come waltzing into his hospital room left him a little unnerved.  He might chalk it up to stress if seeing Kathy and half his brood hadn’t settled him right down.  But since he still felt it, whatever the hell it was, he wondered if it might be some phenomenon other identical twins simply took for granted, something he wasn’t used to since he hadn’t spent more than a few hours out of a lifetime with the man who shared his DNA.  

 

When his ‘spider sense’ kicked up a notch Elliot had no choice but to open his eyes and turn towards the door, even if every little movement sent a needle of pain shooting through his skull.  As if on cue the door opened and Chris came shuffling in fully shackled with a Federal Agent in his wake.

 

“That’s gotta hurt,” Chris proclaimed with a wince as soon he caught sight of Elliot’s new bruise.  “Did ya have fun at day camp?”

 

Elliot snorted involuntarily.  “It was a thrill a minute.”

 

“Sit down and stay there,” the Fed ordered Chris, stopping in the doorway.  “We’re on the fourth floor and that window is sealed in case you get any bright ideas.”

 

Chris cut his eyes at the agent but obediently slouched into the chair next to the bed.  He waited for the man to close the door before turning back to Elliot to examine the IV in the back of his hand and the lighted clothespin thingamajig on his finger.  The bed rail was already down and the covers appeared well-wallowed by children.  “What’d the doc say?” he asked worriedly.

 

“Subdural hematoma,” Elliot shrugged as he removed the oxygen cannula from his nose and tossed it away.  “A really tiny one though and it already stopped bleeding.  It just hurts like hell on top of my concussion, thank you very much.   I’ll be fine.”
 

“You sure?”

 

“I’m sure, but they’re gonna keep me here a day or two to be on the safe side.  So how was your holiday?”

 

“Boring,” Chris said with an indifferent huff.  

 

“At least you were out of Oz.”

 

“I don’t know, Elliot,” Chris sighed as he looked over his shoulder to stare out the locked window at the cloudless blue sky.  “Sometimes a little taste of freedom is worse than no freedom at all.  It makes you want things you can’t have.”

 

“In that case I’m sorry,” Elliot apologized awkwardly.  “Especially since it was all for nothing.”

 

“No shit?” Chris asked as he turned back toward the bed.  “You didn’t get what you went in for?”

 

“The whole op was a cluster fuck from beginning to end,” Elliot said with a bitter laugh.  “Right off the bat Doctor Nathan pegged me as a plant because you have some scars that I don’t.  The Feds never even stopped to think I might get a physical.”

 

“I won’t bother to say I told you so since we both know I did,” Chris replied as he smiled knowingly and shook his head.  “Nathan didn’t give you up to the warden?”

 

“No, I talked her out of it.  She became a go between for me with Fuller so things looked good right up until the freakin’ water main broke.”

 

“I heard,” Chris commiserated.

 

“Then they put Beecher in with me and Halstead.”

 

“You shared a pod with Toby?  I told you not to go near him.”

 

“Yeah, I know.  It wasn’t my idea,” Elliot paused for a second. “You were right about him.  He figured things out pretty fast when we ended up sharing a bunk.”

 

Chris clenched his jaw almost imperceptibly.  “Did you fuck him?” he questioned quietly.

 

“No!” Elliot denied before launching into the story he didn’t particularly want to tell.  “There was one incident of inappropriate touching on his part, but he thought I was you at the time.  Still, I nearly strangled him for it.”

 

“Goddammit. You didn’t hurt him, did you?” Chris asked with concern, obviously not sure where to put his allegiance in this case.

 

“I did a little, but he’s okay.  He even helped me keep my cover by pretending you were back together with him.”  Elliot took a deep breath before going on.  “There was some kissing but rest assured it was strictly for show.”

 

As unpredictable as ever, Chris got over his fit of resentment and merely chuckled at Elliot’s unhappy confession.  “And you hated every minute of it.”

 

“It was weird at first,” Elliot admitted, “Kissing someone besides my wife.”

 

“Kissing a man, you mean?”

 

“That too.”

 

“You should’a let Beech suck you off to break the ice,” Chris decided with an evil grin.  “He’s really good.  You would have liked it.”

 

“Jesus, Chris,” Elliot complained as he gingerly rubbed his sore face.  

 

“Who the fuck is Halstead?”

 

“Oh right, you don’t know Dwayne.  He’s your new pod mate.  And… oh yeah, he’s your bitch,” Elliot added to take the air out of Chris’ gloating.  

 

“What?” Chris blurted out, losing his cool façade as he sat bolt upright.  “You’d better be shittin’ me.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Elliot said with a smirk of satisfaction at the response. “He should be gone by the time you get back.  McManus is an indecisive mother fucker but Fuller’s feeling guilty so he promised to put a rush on the arrangements.”

 

“I damned well hope so.  I got enough to deal with without taking on some fucking prag.”

 

“Look, Halstead may be a geeky little bastard, but he saved my life.”

 

“Yeah?” Chris asked distrustfully as he simmered down and eased back against the chair cushion.  “How’d he do that?”

 

“To tell you the truth, I’m not really sure.  You’ll have to ask Beecher.  There’s a lot of other stuff I should probably tell you but I’m kinda fuzzy on the details right now.”

 

Chris made a rude noise and waved his hand dismissively as far as the chain allowed.  “Don’t strain yourself, I like surprises.  They keep things interesting.”

 

“Liar.  You don’t like surprises any more than I do.”

 

“I doubt you did anything that’s gonna drastically change my life.”

 

“Well I did beat up a couple of Aryans,” Elliot remembered.  “Okay, Cyril O’Reily actually pounded one of them into the ground but I took the blame.”

 

“Good for Cyril,” Chris grinned approvingly.  “Don’t sweat it, stuff like that just strengthens my rep.”

 

“What if they try to get revenge?”

 

“The Aryans were after my ass anyway.  What else?  Because there’s something I need to talk to you about and Fuller’s not gonna give us all day.”

 

“Just a piece of advice,” Elliot said seriously.  “I know you and Ryan got up to something shady together, but I don’t think you can trust him.”

 

“Oh, believe me, I don’t.  There’s trust and then there’s O’Reily.  We only dance when it’s mutually beneficial.”

 

“I don’t want the details.”

 

“That’s probably for the best,” Chris agreed with a nod of his head as he leaned forward again.  “So I guess Taylor struck out then, too?”

 

“I can’t tell him anything he doesn’t already know,” Elliot assured, not mentioning how close he’d come to begging Beecher for the truth.  “You know, I used to wonder about these people I’d see in court.  How they came day after day to support a family member who’d committed some terrible crime.”

 

“Huh. And now look who’s in the hot seat,” Chris murmured without rancor.  “That’s sorta what I wanted to say to you.  It could be very bad for your career if anyone finds out about me.”

 

“I don’t care what you did,” Elliot managed with some difficulty.  

 

“You should.”

 

“It doesn’t matter now.  You’re my brother.  I’m not gonna treat your existence like some dirty little secret.”

 

“That’s exactly what you gotta do.  For both our sakes.”

 

“What?  Don’t you want to get to know my kids?  Lizzie took right to you and Dickie thinks you’re ‘bad’.”

 

“I am bad.”

 

“No, in ten-year-old speak I’m pretty sure that’s good.  You haven’t even met Maureen and Kathleen yet.”

 

“In a perfect world being part of your family would be great, Elliot.  Don’t get me wrong, I love your kids already just because they’re yours,” Chris stated with the tiniest quiver in his voice.  “But try to understand, I’ve got enemies.  And they would gladly take our feud outside Oz if they thought they found a way to hurt me.  If you don’t believe that just ask Beecher.”  

 

Elliot’s knuckles went white as he gripped the blanket.  He hadn’t considered that particular risk.  “Schillinger.”

 

“When I betrayed that cocksucker I didn’t have anyone on the outside to worry about.  Now that I do it makes me weak.”

 

“I protect my own and that includes you,” Elliot persisted, stubbornly searching for a way around the problem.  “We’ll get you transferred out of Oz and away from him.”

 

“I don’t want to leave Em City.  I know it’s still prison but it’s a hell of a lot better than any other cellblock I’ve ever been on.”

 

“And Beecher’s there.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Elliot blew out a breath.  “Toby’s not a lifer.  You can’t make this kind of decision without considering that.  Eventually he’ll get out and where will you be then?”

 

“Yeah, well I have to live in the moment, don’t I?  Listen, big brother, this situation is not forever.  One of these days Schillinger is gonna have a tragic accident and we won’t have to worry about him anymore.”

 

“Dammit, Chris,” Elliot grunted irritably.  “If something happens to Schillinger now what am I supposed to think?”  

 

“Hey, I didn’t say I was gonna whack him,” Chris retorted with a practiced innocence that didn’t escape Elliot’s notice.  “Vern has enemies, too, not the least of which is Ryan O’Reily for raping his brother.”

 

Elliot bristled at the reminder.  “I know.  I’d really like to do something about that but I’m afraid my hands are tied.”

 

“So we agree?  Until someone does Schillinger in, you need to stay the fuck away from me.”

 

“I just found you.”

 

“Look, I ain’t trying to be all noble and shit.  You make me vulnerable.  Worrying about your children will drive me out of my mind.  And God help me if anything ever happened to one of them because of me.  Please,” Chris begged.  “If you won’t do it for me, do it for them.”

 

There was a tap on the door and Fuller opened it slowly.  “Time’s up, gentlemen.  We need to get Mr. Keller back to Oz.  Agent Franks is going to release you so you can change,” he told Chris as Franks slipped into the room and motioned for him to hold out his hands.

 

Angry and hurt, Elliot looked away while Franks freed his brother from the chains.

 

“Thank God,” Chris exclaimed, stretching expansively before shrugging out of Elliot’s sweatshirt and tossing it into the chair he’d just vacated.  “Where are my clothes?”

 

“Probably in there,” Fuller pointed to the narrow closet next to the bathroom.  “We’ll give you ten minutes,” he added before motioning Franks out with him.

 

Thirty seconds later the door opened again and Olivia stuck her head in.  “Knock, knock.  Anyone home?”

 

“Nobody here but us chickens,” Chris called back to her flirtatiously as he pulled the neat stack of clothes out of the closet and set them down near Elliot’s feet.

 

Olivia flashed Chris a grin but went straight to Elliot’s side.  “Hey partner,” she said as she patted his wrist above the IV site.  “It’s good to see you.”

 

“Liv,” Elliot greeted warmly, reaching across with his other hand to give her arm a squeeze.

 

“I’m going to stay with you until Kathy gets back,” Olivia told him as she picked up the sweatshirt and sat in the chair.  A soft hissing sound caught her attention and she plucked the oxygen tube off the floor and held it out to him.  “Shouldn’t you be wearing this?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then why is it still on?”

 

“There you go thinking like a cop again,” Elliot protested as he pushed the cannula away.

 

“Are you wearing my underwear?” Chris broke up the imminent argument as he scattered the clothes across the foot of the bed as if looking for something.

 

“Yeah, but trust me, you don’t want this pair.  They’re ripped in the crotch.”

 

“Huh.  Wonder how that happened,” Chris smirked as he kicked off the running shoes and undid his pants.  “Do you want these back?” he asked, pointing to the blue bikinis as he unceremoniously proceeded to get all but naked in front of Olivia.

 

Elliot tried to raise an eyebrow but thought better of it.  “No, I’ve seen your wardrobe.  You need them worse than I do.”

 

“Can I keep the socks, too?”

 

“Sure.  Liv?” Elliot called out, trailing tubing and wires as he waved his hand in front of her face.

 

“Hmm?” Liv tore her attention away from the floor show.  “What?”

 

“Stop ogling my brother.”

 

“I wasn’t ogling.”

 

“Yes you were,” Chris said smugly, stepping into his dungarees and zipping up.  “Just like you always do.”

 

This time Elliot’s eyebrows did go up.  “Ow.  Always?”

 

“I can’t help it if he’s an exhibitionist,” Olivia insisted with a glare Chris’ way for telling.  “Forget underwear, you should send him a trench coat.”

 

“Don’t send me anything,” Chris disagreed abruptly as he pulled on the Henley.  “Postmark?  Return address?  It’s too dangerous.  Remember, Vern runs the fucking mailroom.  I probably wouldn’t get it anyway.”

 

Elliot nodded gloomily.  “I know.”

 

“Good.  Boots?”

 

“Closet.”

 

“God.  You men and your one syllable conversations,” Olivia grumbled.  “Actually, it’s kind of surreal having you both in the room at the same time.”

 

“Just think,” Chris offered as he found his boots and leaned against the footboard to put them on.  “If we had grown up together we might’ve had our own language.”

 

“Dickie and Lizzie did,” Elliot said pensively.  

 

“Really?” Chris looked up in amazement as he finished tying the laces.  “So they did all that twin stuff?”

 

“Come ’ere,” Elliot requested without answering the question, gesturing for Chris to come closer.  

 

Olivia glanced at Chris then pushed the chair out of his way as she got up and stepped back to give them a little privacy.  

 

Chris put his hands on either side of Elliot’s shoulders as he hunched over him.  

 

“Can you feel me?” Elliot asked uneasily, gripping Chris’ elbows.  “When I’m near?”

 

“I guess.  I mean, yeah, I think so,” Chris whispered in wonder as the realization struck him.  He lowered his forehead to Elliot’s, barely touching him as he closed his eyes.  “It doesn’t matter though.  You’ve got to forget about me.  ”

 

“I can’t.”

 

Chris leaned in harder, applying some carefully controlled pressure directly over Elliot’s injury, pinning him to the pillow.  “We’re no good for each other.  Promise you’ll stay away.”

 

Elliot hissed in pain but didn’t fight.  But Olivia jumped in immediately to try and separate them.  “Ease up,” she ordered as she tugged at Chris’ arm.  “You’re going to hurt him.”

 

“Stay away from me,” Chris begged Elliot without opening his eyes, now gripping his shoulders ruthlessly, locking them together to counter Olivia’s increasing efforts.  “I don’t want to have to make you hate me.”  

 

“I won’t ever hate you.”

 

“You will,” Chris insisted.  “I’ll fuck up and then you will.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because that’s what I do!” Chris yelled as he backed off a couple inches to glare into Elliot’s eyes.  A world of emotion passed between them as they stared each other down, two immovable objects going head to head.

 

When Chris’ eyes went cold Elliot physically flinched, fearing another head butt.  Instead, to his shock and horror, Chris kissed him on the mouth.  Not a brotherly peck but something deeper and darker, like he was trying to crawl inside him.  Elliot shoved at him but Chris’ fingers dug brutally into his arms as he hung on.  He could feel the force of Olivia’s blows to Chris’ back right through his body.  

 

“Chris, don’t do this,” Olivia’s voice kept repeating somewhere in the distance.  “Stop it!”

 

Elliot tasted blood before he realized he was biting Chris’ lip and then the assault was over.  Chris kept a grip on his arms as he pulled back only far enough to speak huskily into Elliot’s ear.  “Hate me now?”

 

“What the fuck!” Elliot spat out as he pushed Chris off of him and wiped his mouth roughly with his forearm leaving a smear of red.

 

Chris was already across the room.  “Stay away,” he warned one last time without looking back.  Then he was gone.

 

“What the hell was that?” Elliot asked, resisting Olivia’s frantic attempt to check him for injuries.

 

“Son of a bitch,” Olivia swore as she suddenly stopped and turned to look at the door.  “He did it again.”

 

***

 

“Liv,” Elliot called her back as soon Olivia started for the exit.  “Let him go.”

 

“He’s manipulating you,” Olivia replied heatedly, stopping just short of her destination.  “He’ll do or say whatever it takes to make you bend to his will, even if it means severing your relationship.”

 

“I realize that,” Elliot sighed, looking physically ill and emotionally drained as he lay back down.  “But as much as I hate to admit it, he’s got a point.  He has enemies that would put Kathy and the kids in jeopardy if they ever found out about us.”

 

“Even if that’s true you don’t have to cut him completely out of your life.  There has to be another way.  Just talk to him.”

 

“What good will that do?  He’s the most stubborn human being I’ve ever met.”

 

“Image that, your brother is stubborn,” Olivia retorted with a snort.  

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“At least don’t let him leave thinking you hate him.  As much as Chris likes to play the tough guy that would probably kill him.”

 

Elliot closed his eyes wearily.  “Okay,” he gave in at last.  “I guess I can do that.”

 

With a determined nod Olivia grabbed the handle and yanked the door open.  “Stop,” she ordered, startling the three men in the anti-room.

 

Chris stared up at her from where he sat in a chair while Franks secured the lower portion of the shackles.  “Stay out of this, Olivia,” he said irritably, rubbing his face briskly while his hands were still free.

 

“Shut up and get your ass back in there.”

 

“Detective Benson we don’t have time for this …”

 

“You can shut up, too, Fuller.  You weren’t worried about time when you dragged these guys into your screwed up operation.  It seems to me you stole whole days out of their lives.  The very least you can do is give them a few minutes to settle their differences.”

 

“There’s nothing to settle,” Chris growled as he stood up defiantly; looking ready for a fight.

 

“I’m not afraid of you anymore,” Olivia told him as she stepped squarely into his personal space.  “You project menace really well and maybe you do have a darkness in your soul but you’re more than that, aren’t you?  You said it yourself, you’re not a monster.  You’re just a spoiled child who’ll do anything to get your own way.”

 

“My way,” Chris roared, pointing a finger in Olivia’s face, “Will keep Elliot’s family alive.”

 

Olivia captured his hand between hers and drew it against her cheek.  “He knows that.  He just wants to talk.  Please, Chris.”

 

“I can’t go back in there,” Chris whispered urgently, the anger replaced by an almost embarrassed reticence.

 

“He doesn’t hate you.  Not yet.  But if you walk away from him like this I don’t know if he’ll ever forgive you.”

 

Chris glanced at Fuller as if looking for guidance rather than permission.  Fuller sighed deeply but waved a hand at the door.  “You’ve got ten more minutes.”

 

“Take all the time you need,” Olivia countered, speaking to Chris as she released his hand but daring Fuller to contradict her.

 

“What about the shackles?” Franks asked his boss.

 

“I would never hurt Elliot if that’s what you’re worried about,” Chris objected with an offended glower.

 

“Just leave them like they are,” Fuller advised.  “I trust him.”

 

Chris gave the older man a grateful look then opened the door.  “Give us a minute?” he requested of Olivia.

 

“Of course,” she agreed, patting his shoulder for encouragement.

 

***

 

After taking a deep breath to steady himself Chris stepped into Elliot’s room, closed the door, and then leaned his back against it.  “I didn’t leave,” he stated the obvious as he stared at the floor in front of his boots.

 

“I know,” Elliot assured him quietly.  “Apparently my radar is still tuned to you whether you’re a jackass or not.”

 

“I made my feelings known.  I don’t have anything to add,” Chris said still looking anywhere but at Elliot as he stuck his hands behind his back and promptly clammed up.

 

Elliot watched him for a minute or two before speaking again. “Toby’s a better kisser,” he finally declared to get his attention.

 

“What?” Chris asked, his head shooting up at the unexpected announcement.

 

“At least he didn’t make me bleed.”

 

Chris huffed and reached up to touch his sore lip.  “I believe that was my blood,” he argued lightly.

 

“Whatever.  You know, I tried the same shit with Toby.”

 

“You did?”

 

“Yeah, same tactic, same result… different reasons.  I was just trying to make him think I was you.  I wasn’t trying to fuck with his head.”

 

Chris narrowed his eyes as he absently fingered the chains hanging down his thigh but he didn’t bother to deny it.

 

“Do you really think I’m such a homophobe one kiss would send me running?” Elliot questioned.  “Or was it the incest angle you were going for?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Uh, brothers don’t generally kiss each other on the mouth,” Elliot pointed out emphatically.

 

“Why not?” Chris asked clearly at a loss.

 

“Why not?” Elliot echoed in disbelief.  “Because they don’t.  At least not in my family.”

 

“You’ve got another brother,” Chris realized, stunned into making eye contact.

 

Elliot nodded.  “Three of them in fact.  And two sisters.”

 

“Fuck,” Chris mumbled as he went to the window.  “I always thought you were mine.”

 

“When I first found out about you I admit I questioned my place with them.  But no matter what, they are my family.  We have history.”

 

“And you and me,” Chris said, sounding devastated, “We don’t.”

 

“No.  But we’ve got blood.  And my relationship with them doesn’t change anything between us,” Elliot promised.  

 

Chris put his hands against the glass and idly studied the window.  Franks was right, it didn’t open.  He concentrated on the parking lot below, watching the people come and go as they pleased.  “So how do you show affection to a brother?” he finally asked.

 

“You beat the crap out of each other,” Elliot explained with a shrug.  

 

“Okay, at least I got that right,” Chris brooded as he cast a glance at the mark on Elliot’s face, even if it was buried under the more recent bruise.  “So you’re saying brothers aren’t supposed to kiss.”

 

“How could you not know that?”

 

“How the hell would I know?  Ma’s the only one I have ‘history’ with except for a few stepfathers that blew in and out of my life.”

 

“Yeah, but you didn’t go around kissing your mother on the mouth.  Did you?”

 

“Our mother, you mean?  Well I didn’t exactly slip her the tongue or anything, but yeah, sure.  She kissed me a lot when I was little.  I was all she had at the time.  I presume you don’t approve of that either?”

 

“You were a kid,” Elliot said grimly.  “It wasn’t your fault.”

 

“You’re supposed to kiss the people you love,” Chris persisted, not willing to let it go.

 

“I guess we were just raised differently.”

 

“No.  Of all the shit I did wrong in my life, kissing the people I care about wasn’t one of them.  Even a priest told me it was okay.”

 

“What priest?” Elliot asked with a shudder as his gut went into overdrive.

 

“You know, when I was an altar boy.  It was weird at first but he convinced me it was a natural display of affection.”

 

Elliot sat up in the bed.  “Come over here,” he commanded abruptly.

 

“Why?”

 

“Just do it.  If you don’t come to me, I’ll come to you.”

 

“Shit, Elliot,” Chris muttered as he pushed away from the window and wandered to the bed.  “Don’t sweat it now, that was thirty years ago.”

 

Elliot grabbed his arm and tugged him down to sit beside him.  “Did he do anything else to you?”

 

“Well he tried,” Chris laughed.  “But I broke his nose when he stuck his hand down my pants.  I was only eight but even I knew that wasn’t kosher.  I’d already had a lecture and a couple slaps with a ruler from the nun who caught me playing doctor with a little girl in my Sunday school class.”

 

“Did you ever tell anyone what he did?” Elliot asked, mortified by the revelation but not particularly surprised.

 

“Hell yeah.  I told the nun since she seemed to have a problem with that kind of thing.  She told me to keep my fucking mouth shut.”

 

“So you weren’t kidding when you said you made a priest cry and a nun cuss.”

 

“Why would I lie about something like that?” Chris asked with genuine perplexity.  “You know, fucking up a priest gives you some jizz in Catholic school.  Course they kicked me out right after that, but still.  For a minute there I was cock of the walk.”

 

“Do you remember the priest’s name?” the detective in Elliot pushed for more information.

 

“Nah,” Chris replied as he patted Elliot’s knee.  “But he died a long time ago.  He ain’t bothering anybody in hell.”

 

“Good,” Elliot said with a vindictive sniff.

 

“Forget about it.  I did.  It didn’t make me gay and it sure as hell didn’t make me a serial killer.  Okay?  Contrary to popular belief, I’m not either of those things.”

 

“You’re not gay?” Elliot blurted out incredulously.  “You just fuck other men.”

 

“Yeah, well fuck you,” Chris swore, looking betrayed as he tried to get up.

 

“I’m sorry,” Elliot said quickly, keeping a tight grip on Chris’ arm to keep him from bolting.  “I’m not judging you.  But what about Toby?”

 

Chris set his jaw and his nostrils flared slightly with his elevated respirations.  “That’s different.”

 

“He loves you,” Elliot soothed.  “And if you have to be in prison I can’t think of anyone I’d rather see you with than Beecher.”

 

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter.”

 

“I’m not.  Beecher bent over backwards to protect me when he thought I was you.  And then when he found out he protected me anyway just because I’m your brother.”

 

“Don’t worry about me and Toby.  We’ll work things out one way or another.”

 

Elliot pulled up his legs to make more room for Chris and they sat together in silence for a few minutes.  “I’ll stay away,” Elliot said at last.  “No visits, no packages, no letters.”

 

“It’s not forever,” Chris agreed sadly.  “Just don’t forget me.”

 

“Like I could.”

 

“Kiss me.”

 

“No Chris …”

 

“Oh come on.  If I beat you up in your condition I’d probably kill you.  Please?  I don’t know when I’ll see you again.”

 

“That’s emotional blackmail,” Elliot protested.  “How about a hug instead?”

 

“I guess you’re not too big on those either.  All right.”

 

“Keep your mouth to yourself,” Elliot warned, situating his IV line out of the way.

 

“Fucking prude,” Chris complained as he wrapped his arms around him.  They closed their eyes and held on tight.  When Chris pressed his lips to his temple Elliot only sighed.

 

“Now isn’t this better?” Olivia asked from the door.  

 

They opened their eyes to glare at her but didn’t pull apart.  

 

“Fuller says you have to go now,” Olivia explained.  “I’m sorry, I tried to get you some more time.”

 

“Love you,” Chris whispered into Elliot’s ear before bussing his cheek.

 

“Ditto,” Elliot said with a final embrace.  “Stay out of trouble,” he added as Chris slid off the bed to the ever present jangle of chains.

 

“You only ask for the hard stuff, don’t you?” Chris noted as he moved across the room toward Olivia.  “See ya, gorgeous,” he said as he passed her, boldly patting her rear.  He grunted when she slugged him in the ribs but his grin never faltered as he ducked out the door.

 

“Nice upper cut,” Elliot approved tiredly.  He made a half-assed effort to straighten the covers as he stretched out.  

 

“Thank you.  You should see my right cross.”  Olivia pulled the chair back to the side of the bed and sat in it.  “You okay?”

 

“I will be.  Just next time I volunteer for anything smack some sense into me, would you?”

 

“Oh, trust me, I will,” Olivia assured.  She kicked off her shoes and propped her feet on the side of the bed.  “It’s been a hell of a day.”

 

Feeling a little lost, Elliot settled his hand on her ankle and gently rubbed the bone with his thumb.  “That could have been me,” he said guiltily.  “That could be my life.”

 

“Never,” Olivia disagreed, sounding certain in spite of the lump in her throat.

 

***

 

Fuller jingled the coins in his pocket as he watched Franks shackle Keller’s wrists.  “Halstead should be taken care of by the time you get there,” he offered just to have something to say.

 

Keller shrugged impassively, letting Franks slip the sunglasses on his face and then settle the hat onto his head.    

 

“I won’t say it’s been an honor meeting you, but it has been interesting,” Fuller said as a good-bye.  “I’m sorry you lost,” he added almost as a benediction.  He pulled out a quarter and tucked it into Keller’s palm before heading back into the lion’s den to debrief Stabler.

 

“I’m not,” Keller murmured as Franks tugged him out into the hall to begin the journey back to Oz.

 

***

 

And so we see, the sign of the twins is contradictory.  Adaptable, versatile, and witty verses cunning, inconsistent, and shallow.  Luckily most Geminis have the ability to use their above average intelligence to control and unify the duality of their natures, combining the parts that serve them best.  All things considered, even at their worst … they are never dull.

 

                                                                                                                        ---Augustus Hill

 

 

Fuller arranged for a van from the prison to pick Keller and his phony hospital records up at the ER thus getting him back into the system and out of the FBI’s hair.  Then a quick check in the infirmary, where Doctor Nathan merely took a brief glance at his forearm and nodded at him as she rushed over to another emergency, left Chris arriving at the gate of Em City a few minutes after lockdown.  

 

While he wouldn’t have traded the extra time with Elliot for anything, he was somewhat exasperated that Beecher was already out of reach for the night.  But Toby had waited this long, he would certainly keep for another twelve hours or so Chris consoled himself.  Besides, he wasn’t in the best of moods for a reconsolidation anyway.  Returning to Oz was like a shock to his system, poisonous and profound.  He really just wanted to hit something and he wasn’t too particular about what.  Or who.  Since most of the really desirable targets were locked away until morning, his tardiness was probably for the best he decided sourly.

 

As the bars slid aside Murphy met him with a bewildered expression on his face.

 

“What?” Chris asked him listlessly, keeping his current feelings of hostility for every living thing to himself.  

 

“I don’t know,” Murphy replied as he moved around to get another angle.  “You just look a lot better than you did when you left.”

 

“Ain’t medical science grand?” Chris deadpanned.

 

“What’d you say to Nathan?” Murphy asked, overlooking the sarcasm as he glanced at the clipboard in his hand.  “She didn’t even order us to wake you every two hours this time.”

 

“Maybe she thinks I need my beauty sleep.”

 

“Let’s go,” Murphy instructed with annoyance, finally getting enough attitude.  “You made it in the nick of time to kiss your girlfriend good-bye.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“I don’t know how, but Halstead made a deal with the Feds.  They’re shipping him to Edgecombe tonight.”

 

“Edgecombe?  That’s like a country club or a spa or some shit,” Chris remarked as he allowed himself to be herded towards the common area.

 

“Compared to Oz?” Murphy asked with a smirk.  “You bet.”

 

Chris glanced toward Toby’s pod but was disappointed to see no one at the door.  Then movement caught his attention and his eyes were drawn to the baby CO escorting an ugly inmate with a bag slung over his shoulder down the stairs.  

 

“Ugh,” Chris muttered with a grimace.  Thanks to Elliot everyone thought he had fucked that, which didn’t improve his mood any.  Then again, somehow the little shit had managed to save his brother’s life so as far as Chris was concerned, Halstead was golden.  As long as he kept his mouth shut.

 

The man moved nervously, appearing even more worried the closer he got.  

 

“Hold up a minute,” Chris requested when they passed at the foot of the stairs, receiving a little shriek of terror as he reached for Halstead.  “Easy there, chief,” he soothed as he caught him by the elbow.  “I just wanted to say I owe you one.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” the unlikely hero fumbled for words, literally shaking in his boots.

 

“Just don’t ever make me come looking for you,” Chris added meaningfully.

 

Halstead went ashen and stumbled when Chris released him, but nodded vehemently.  “Yes sir.  I mean, no sir.  I mean I’m going to forget everything about Oz, I swear to God.”

 

“Good boy,” Chris approved, knowing his message had been received.  

 

The young hack glared at Chris as he roughly prodded Halstead towards the gate.  For some reason the guard’s petulance struck him as funny and he felt his bad mood start to lift.  Moving forward with a little of his usual strut, he faltered when he glanced back to find Toby plastered to his door.  The sight was like balm to his soul.  He treated Beecher to a simmering gaze until Murphy lost patience and tapped him lightly on the back with his nightstick in warning.  

 

“Move your ass, Keller, or you might find it back in the hole.”

 

Chris grinned, never taking his eyes off Toby.  “I’m going,” he said before taking a deep lungful of the re-circulated air that smelled strangely of home.  

 

When he got to his pod he immediately went to the spot where he watched Toby night after night.  He wasn’t disappointed as Beecher was already in place.  “Soon,” Chris promised as he leaned his head against the glass to soak up the view.

 

***

 

For the first time in a long time the buzz and blare that heralded the lights startled Chris out of a sound sleep.  Another day in paradise, he thought acerbically as he made his way out to the rail.  But the rest of the world seemed to fade away as he watched Beecher and Beecher watched him.  And as soon as count was over Toby was on his way across the quad.  Deciding their reunion would probably go better in the relative privacy of his pod Chris opted to go ahead and take a much needed piss and let Toby come to him.

 

Two shakes later Beecher came tearing through the door to slam him against the wall.  “Jesus, Tobe,” Chris laughed, “I know you missed me but at least let me put it away.”

 

“Don’t bother,” Toby replied as he yanked Chris’ pants down a little further.  “What the fuck?” he gasped at the sight of the skimpy blue underwear.

 

“Yeah, you like these, don’t cha?”

 

“This,” Toby corrected with a satisfied sigh as he palmed the butterfly tattoo, rubbing the warm skin of Chris’ thigh.  “This is what I came to see.”  

 

Chris moved to grab Toby’s shoulders, intending to score a little welcome home kiss before the hacks showed up.  But Beecher pushed his hands away and practically tore his shirt off.  

 

“And this,” Toby uttered almost reverently as he nuzzled the healed gunshot wound.  

 

Aware his rapidly hardening dick was pretty much on display in the fully lit and see-through cell, Chris tucked himself in and fastened his pants before combing his fingers through Toby’s hair.  “I missed you,” he said quietly.

 

“Don’t ever leave me again,” Toby whispered into his chest.

 

“I need you to promise you won’t tell anybody about what really happened these last few days,” Chris requested as he slipped a hand under Beecher’s chin to lift his head.  He frowned sadly at the perfect fit as he placed his fingers in the corresponding marks on the bruised skin of his neck.  “No matter what goes down between you and me, don’t ever rat out my brother.”

 

“Is he okay?”

 

“Yeah, he’s got a hard head.  Swear it, Toby.  He’s got nothing to do with my shit.”

 

“I know, I swear.”

 

As he moved in for another try at a kiss a loud thump sounded on the door.  “What do you want, O’Reilly?” Chris groaned in exasperation.

 

“I just wanted to see if you’re okay,” Ryan said with a sly smile as he stepped inside.  “Oh, and to tell you Murphy’s on his way and he don’t look very happy.  I guess he saw Beecher’s mad dash up the stairs.”

 

“Fuck.”

 

“Welcome to Oz,” Beecher grinned manically.  “Baby.”

 

***

 

Epilogue I.

Edgecombe Minimum Security Correctional Facility

 

The normal clatter and chatter of breakfast fell silent as the newcomer entered the dining room and got in line.  Slowly the level of noise picked back up and swatches of conversations with the same key words could be heard all around.  Oswald.  Mafia.  Murder.  Stone Halstead.

 

“But what’s he doing here?” someone asked shrilly leaving the room in another stilted silence.

 

Taking his tray, the man scanned the room warily as he moved to a nearly vacant table.  The two inmates already seated there scattered as he sat down.  He ate with his head slightly lowered but kept an attentive eye on what went on around him, all the while projecting an aura of ‘don’t mess with me’.   And no one dared.

 

As he finished up a skinny, often mistreated man who’d been watching him eat, waiting for an opening, slipped into the seat next to him.  “Mr. Halstead?”

 

“What do you want?”

 

“Did you really kill a mob assassin with your bare hands?”

 

Halstead shrugged.  “No, I used a phone cord.  He was fucking with my friend.”

 

“Really.”  The man gulped slightly as he offered his hand.  “I’m Leroy.  And I want to be your friend.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“More than anything.”

 

A surprised smile appeared on Halstead’s face but he quickly wiped it away.  He cleared his throat and shook Leroy’s hand.  “You can call me Stone.”

 

***

 

Epilogue II.

Manhattan SVU Squadroom

One week later

 

“Hey,” Munch greeted cheerfully as he and his partner returned from court.  “Look who’s here.  Welcome back, stranger.”

 

“Thanks, John,” Elliot smiled as he cracked his knuckles and took a break from typing.  

 

“So the doc cleared ya?” Fin asked, settling in at his desk.

 

“Not exactly.  I got one week of desk duty first.”

 

“Two weeks,” Olivia corrected without looking up from her own work.

 

“Then I’m back in action,” Elliot finished with an annoyed glower at Olivia.  “In the meantime if you need anything I’ll be your researcher/clerk/typist/bitch.”

 

“Good for us, bad for you,” Fin laughed.  “I always wanted a secretary.  You can call in our lunch order.”  

 

“Oh, right.  As long as you’re not gonna take advantage or anything,” Elliot teased as he reached for the phone.  “Fuck!” he exclaimed as he knocked over his coffee.  He grabbed some folders out of harm’s way and pushed his chair back from the hot liquid dripping off his desk.

 

“Elliot,” Olivia admonished in surprise, jumping up to grab some paper towels.

 

Munch cast him an assessing glance over the tops of his glasses.

 

“What?” Elliot asked in confusion as he moved a little further to get out of Olivia’s way as she cleaned up his mess.

 

“You dropped the F-bomb,” Munch supplied helpfully.

 

“I did?”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Fin commiserated.  “I been deep cover.  It’s easy to go gangsta.  It ain’t so easy coming back.”

 

“Yeah,” Elliot agreed sullenly.  He grabbed the trashcan and held it out for Olivia to drop the soiled towels into.  “Thanks, Liv.”

 

“Fin’s right,” Olivia told him quietly as she dabbed at the splash on his knee.  “You were just playing a role.”  

 

“I know,” Elliot sighed, finally smiling as he got up.  “I’ve got an errand to run.  I’ll bring lunch back with me.”

 

***

 

Epilogue III.

Oz

 

Chris sat on the infirmary bed rolling the quarter across his knuckles.  Back and forth, up and down.  It was a trick Artie had taught him years ago.  Funny, until now he hadn’t ever thought of Artie as family, hadn’t much thought of him at all for a long, long time.  He idly wondered if the old man was still alive.

 

“Hey, sorry to keep you waiting,” Doctor Nathan said as she approached with a devious expression on her face, obviously up to something.  “Nice hickey.”

 

“Thanks.  Beecher got carried away,” Chris offered with his sexiest grin.  “Why’d you want to see me?”

 

“Come in my office.”

 

The doors burst open and a gurney was wheeled inside with a small, heavily made-up man lying on his side covered with a blanket, a spot of blood soaking through.  “Keller?  Oh my God, as I live and breath, it is you!” the inmate called out as soon as he saw Chris.  “Mmm, mmm, mmm.  Heaven on two legs.”

 

“Gerald,” Doctor Nathan scolded angrily as she lifted the cover to take a quick peek at his backside.  “You’re going to end up with a colostomy if you don’t stop.  Prep him for the anoscope and set up a suture tray,” she told the nurse.  “I’ll be there in a minute.”

 

“What can I say,” Gerald insisted as they rolled him to the treatment area.  “I like it rough.  Hear that Keller?  Any way you want it, big boy.”

 

Chris slid off the bed, pocketed the quarter, and followed Nathan into the wired-in office area.  “I don’t know that guy,” he said emphatically, thumbing over his shoulder.

 

“Oh, I know.  That’s just Gerald,” Nathan explained.  “Actually he’s in love with your b…” she stopped mid-statement as a hand was slapped over her mouth.

 

“Don’t say it,” Chris whispered dangerously, waiting for her to nod before dropping his hand.

 

“Doc?” a hack asked as he rushed over.

 

“We’re fine, it’s okay,” Nathan assured him.  The guard looked dubious but went back to his post to keep an eye on them from a distance.  “Sorry,” she told Chris when the hack was out of earshot.  “I won’t ever say anything.  Come on in.”

 

“Whoa.  That’s the biggest bunch of posies I ever saw,” Chris muttered in awe as he caught sight of the huge bouquet sitting on the doctor’s desk.

 

“They’re daisies,” Nathan told him with a smile.  “They arrived this afternoon from New York.”

 

“Oh,” Chris replied, instantly catching on to what she wasn’t saying.  He moved to the desk to run his fingertips lightly over the petals, a tangible reminder Elliot was out there somewhere, alive and well.

 

“They came special delivery with a package.  Since I don’t wear men’s bikini briefs, I have to assume these are for you,” Nathan said with a sparkle in her eye as she pulled out a plain brown wrapper from a drawer.

 

It had already been neatly cut open but in his haste to see the contents Chris ripped the paper nearly in half.  “Red, green, and … black,” he took inventory with a huge grin.  “Yeah.”

 

The doctor watched his childlike excitement with an indulgent smile before growing more serious.  “I think this is for you, too,” she said as she plucked a sprig of small blue flowers from the edge of the daisies.  “It’s a forget-me-not.”

 

Chris hesitated before taking it.  He cautiously sniffed the blossoms then trailed it along his cheek before reluctantly handing it back to Doctor Nathan.  “Hang on to it for me?” he requested meekly.  “I can’t very well walk around Oz with a fucking flower.  But I don’t want anything to happen to it.”

 

“Sure.  I’ve got an idea.”  Nathan went to a shelf and pulled out an enormous medical tome which she put on her desk and opened.  Laying the sprig between two pieces of white paper she pressed it in between the pages.  “There.  It’ll keep forever right there between neurophysin and normocholesterolemia.  Nobody ever uses that volume.  It’ll still be here when Oz is just a memory.”

 

“Thank you,” Chris said.  He reached out to touch the book, memorizing its cover so he would be able to recognize it.  “You know, for everything.”

 

“You’re welcome.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go sew up Gerald.  Again.”

 

“Why don’t you just sew his ass shut?” Chris suggested, using humor to hide the fact that he was feeling a little emotional.

 

“Shh,” Nathan shushed as she tried not to laugh at the bad joke.  She looked out the wire to make sure no one overheard her answer.  “I have to admit I’m leaning toward that option.”

 

“Only one way to make an important decision like that,” Chris replied with a sigh.  He dug the quarter out his pocket and flipped it to her as he walked away.

 

 

The End