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Luck of the Draw
part 2

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."

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

"For real?" Hill asked, awed by the revelation.

Toby shook his head in a different sort of 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 pod 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…" Cheers erupted from all around and Em City burst into activity. "Quiet! You people reek."

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

Toby stared at him distrustfully.

"You can shave in your pods after lockdown," 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. 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’s 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. "Oh, Chris, what kind of life do you live?"

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

"Yeah, yeah, he’s um, busy trying to charm my partner in an FBI safehouse."

"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.

"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 the stubborn son of a bitch. 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. 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 as she twisted her hand free, "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 bastard. 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," he said as he recaptured her hand.

Olivia surprised herself by letting him get away with it. "I don’t want to hear it," she warned anyway.

"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 didn’t think of it that way." Dwayne grew quiet as he concentrated on a quick shave then rinsed and dried his face. "You’re not at all what I expected," he said courageously when he finished at the sink and turned around. "You’re smart. And you’re the only person here who’s even tried to be nice to me."

"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. "Get dressed, would ya? Maybe I’ll find time tomorrow to show you some self defense moves."

"Really?" Dwayne asked in amazement.

"Sure."

"Count!" Murphy yelled 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 common area. 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, relaxing as he caught on. Then a devilish glint came to his eye as Elliot’s posture stiffened defensively.

"We didn’t 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, holding a finger erect and slowly letting it droop.

"Fuck you," Elliot muttered, suddenly realizing Beecher was yanking his chain for the sport of it. "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 sighed. "Let’s make a deal, okay?"

"What kind of deal?" Toby asked seriously, the lawyer in him bubbling to the surface.

"If you keep your mouth shut I’ll protect you while I’m here," Elliot went on, speaking to Dwayne. "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 trying to mess 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 looking to 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 the one 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 as 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. Doctor Nathan insisted on keeping me here until my pod is fixed. She’s a wonderful woman."

"Yeah, she is," Elliot agreed. "So where’s your buddy?"

"They 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 well-being."

"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 back-up 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 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?" Ryan 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 headed 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.

Something inside told him he should feel guilty where Beecher was concerned but it was only a kiss and he hadn’t even instigated it this time, for the most part. And Toby certainly understood poor impulse control; it was a trait they both struggled with, at least according to Sister Pete. While he liked Olivia, and she certainly got his motor running, he couldn’t live without Toby. Still, he hoped he got the chance to say good-bye to her.

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 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 little roomie 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’re making 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 quietly 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, lost in his powerful gaze for a minute. "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 gently. "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 stabbed a half-eaten egg roll with a chop stick, leaving the rest of the feast untouched before flopping down on the cot. "Buzz me in," he 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