Someone Like You 30/50: Monsters - Beecher/Stabler
Someone Like You
by Dr Squidlove
drsquidlove @@@ livejournal.com
Oz/Law & Order: SVU crossover
Tobias Beecher's trying to rebuild his family in the shadow of the man he was in prison. Elliot Stabler's struggling to continue in the wake of divorce while his job eats away at his soul. It makes for an odd friendship, but it works.
Rated R for violence and explicit references to sexual violence.
Wordcount this post: 3088
Full headers are on chapter 1.
Oz is the property of Tom Fontana and HBO. Law & Order: SVU is the property of Dick Wolf and NBC. The characters are used without permission, but with much appreciation.
Someone Like You
chapter 30: Monsters
by Dr Squidlove
Previously, in chapter 29, Interrogation:
Elliot was ready to defend Toby if the FBI was chasing him for Hank Schillinger's murder. He wasn't ready for Agent Taylor to ask if they were fucking. Or to find out that Chris Keller might be a serial murder-rapist. And he definitely wasn't ready to find out he and Chris were doppelgangers. Elliot pretty thoroughly lost the interrogation battle.
Olivia insisted on driving Elliot, while Elliot's brain whirled with excuses for Toby's lies.
As soon as Toby saw Elliot had Chris's mugshot, he knew their relationship was destroyed. In typical Toby fashion, he took a terrible situation and made it explode. Holly arrived just in time to see Elliot punch Toby. 'Cos she was in need of another dose of trauma.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Elliot pulled his feet up a step, staring across the dim backyard. They should have got rid of the swing set years ago. It only got used when Kathy's sister's family came to visit, and they'd be outgrowing it soon.
His phone buzzed again, shaking against the step. He'd turned off the ring. Didn't know why he didn't turn it off altogether. Maybe he just needed to know someone still gave a damn.
Everything made sense when he lived here. If he'd been a better husband, he'd still be living here. With Kathy, where there were no secret histories, not much in the way of secrets at all. Marriage wasn't easy, but it made sense. You took care of your wife, you took care of your kids. You got the bills paid and tried to keep the kids from irreversible disasters.
In all the mess he'd made, he'd never once had to doubt that Kathy chose him.
The phone buzzed.
"Are you going to answer that, or let Olivia worry all night?"
Elliot tried to answer, but it stuck in his throat. He hadn't meant to bother her. He just wanted to sit here, try to remember what it felt like to have solid ground under you, to know who and what the hell you were.
The screen door opened behind him, Kathy's soft footsteps coming close, and then she was beside him, warm and familiar. He wished he could go back to this. Kathy. His family, all in one house. It was too late now. He'd burned his bridges in the divorce, and Toby stood like a wedge between then and now.
"She called me twenty minutes ago, looking for you. She sounded worried."
After a moment Kathy leaned forward, and got a good look at his face. Which looked pretty bad, judging by her expression.
"Elliot, what's happened?"
"I'm sorry I fucked up our marriage."
There was barely a breath of laughter, and no humour in it. "Now you want to say that? Whatever's got to you tonight, it isn't our divorce."
The phone buzzed.
"Are you going to answer it?" When Elliot didn't move, Kathy leaned across him, god, the smell of her, of home and safety and certainty, all the best years of his life, and she picked up the phone. "Hi, Olivia. It's all right. I have him." She looked at him. "I don't know." A short pause."Can you clear him with Cragen tomorrow? I'm going to put him up here tonight. I don't think he'll make it in." Another pause. "I'll try. Thanks, Olivia."
She hung up and put the phone behind them, reached to squeeze his hand. He tensed and she drew it into the light instead with a whole new wave of concern. "Elliot? Did you hit a wall, or someone's face? Are you in trouble?"
He punched someone he loved. In front of his eleven year-old daughter. Because Toby looked at him and saw a pervert and a murderer.
Elliot put his head down on his knees. "When did I become a monster, Kathy?"
"You're not a monster. What the hell is going on in your head? Talk to me, El."
He had to fight to pull in his next breath, and Kathy wrapped an arm around his back, and Elliot wished he knew how to unwind time so he wouldn't wish Toby was the one here to hold him right now.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Elliot pushed, elbows shaking, lungs bursting until his shoulders locked, the barbell steady above him.
A moment to breathe and then down again, straining against gravity to keep it controlled.
He'd lost count long ago.
The clank of weights kept the quiet away. The concentration it took not to drop the weight on his neck kept his mind tied up.
Push. Up, up, muscles burning, palms sweating.
If he did this long enough, he might sleep tonight.
The doorbell rang, and Elliot swore, dropping the barbell onto its stand. He sat up, breathing hard, dazed. His tank top was soaked through. His hands were cramped.
The kids all assumed he was at work today. It had to be Olivia. But she would have called. Kathy was working. Toby wouldn't dare. Surely he wouldn't dare.
The pounding rush of blood in his veins throbbed even harder.
Fucking Toby. That fucking liar.
Through the peephole Elliot saw familiar light brown hair, his unwanted guest looking back toward the stairs. He hadn't thought he'd ever see Toby again, let alone on his doorstep two days later. He threw open the door. "You can't believe I want to-" Elliot caught sight of the dark bruise on Toby's jaw, the swollen lip, and stopped. He felt sick. That was his handiwork. "Is Holly all right?"
"She's okay. You should keep a safe distance. I told her it was my fault, but..."
"I shouldn't have hit you."
"I gave you plenty of reason."
"There's no reason. In front of your daughter, as if she hasn't seen enough violence in her life."
Toby finally backed down, not willing to argue that.
"I should have just left." He should have just walked away as soon as he saw that photo. "What the hell are you here for, Toby? We're through."
Toby dipped his head. Actual regret, or just playing contrition? How could Elliot tell? "I know. I just needed you to know... I wasn't... I was so busy torching whatever trust we had left, I forgot to tell you that you're nothing like him."
"Well, thanks for that, Toby."
Toby put a hand up as Elliot started to close the door. "You deserve an explanation." He looked around the dingy stairwell. "Can we not do this out here?"
Elliot didn't want Toby in his home. He didn't want Toby near him. Even now, staring right at the ugly grey swelling he'd left on Toby's mouth, Elliot could feel the rage tightening his spine. But he'd been sacked out on his couch for two days trying to make sense of it all and he was going crazy. He almost didn't care if Toby fed him another pile of lies, as long as it made sense.
So he left the door open and walked inside, backed up against the wall and folded his arms.
Toby hovered, looking awkward on his feet. "It was about Chris at first. It was uncanny. I saw you outside the club and it was like some storybook genie had granted me a wish."
Elliot shouldn't have invited him in. He didn't want to hear this. "Olivia was right. You were fixated on me back in the interviews."
"You looked so much like him." The longing in his tone turned Elliot's stomach. "You sounded like him. But underneath you were nothing alike. I kept trying to find him in you, the gestures, the mind; I was waiting for that little smile that let me in on the joke but... Chris was a selfish, arrogant sonofabitch. All he gave a damn about was protecting what was his and hurting anyone who got in his way."
"But you loved him."
Toby's voice rose, defensive. "You don't know. You can't imagine my life in there. After months of rape and humiliation he was the first person to show me any tenderness. Whatever he did before Oz, while he was in there he saved my life and he saved my kids."
"Do you have any idea what Chris Keller was capable of?"
"Of course I do," Toby snapped. "He did it to me."
There. That was what Elliot suspected. He took a step closer, unfolded his arms. "What did he do to you?"
"It doesn't matter."
"An explanation, Toby. Isn't that what you're here for?"
Toby moved further away, squeezed the back of a chair. "He broke my arms. He laughed while he broke my arms with his bare hands, and then he held me down while Vern broke my legs."
Elliot couldn't speak. Toby's mythical lover, that Elliot could never measure up to, broke Toby's bones? In league with his rapist?
"They were working together from the start. It was a big game: make Bitcher fall in love, and then break him. His whole seduction was a lie."
Elliot was paralysed.
Toby came closer, to just a few steps away. "So if you think I don't know what I've done to you, if you think I don't know just what a piece of shit I am, you're wrong. I'm sorry, Elliot."
That was what Elliot wanted to hear, wasn't it? That Chris Keller was a monster, that Toby was another one of his victims, like those boys. Not responsible. But then what had he been looking for in Elliot? More abuse? "What did you do?"
"After two months in hospital? I caught him in a dark room and I stuffed a shank in him as deep as I could. Nearly punctured his lung."
Elliot couldn't imagine Toby shanking anyone. He couldn't imagine wanting to do anything less. He wished Toby had killed Chris.
"You can see why I'm not crying about you splitting my lip."
"You look at me and you see the lover who betrayed you."
Toby huffed, a bitter smile on his lips. "You don't understand. That was all before. First I shanked him. Then I forgave him. And then we became lovers."
He ran the timeline through his head, over and over. It didn't make sense. "You became lovers after he broke your arms? After you found out he was friends with your rapist?"
"I'll never ask you to understand."
He did. That fuck assaulted Toby and then took advantage. What the hell went on in that prison? The rage came bubbling back. "I've seen plenty of victims of abuse. I understand, all right."
"It wasn't like that."
"Oh, so it was a healthy relationship with a serial killer? That makes you what, his accomplice? You'd be better off saying you were his victim." Elliot stepped back, fighting the urge to shove him. There was no daughter this time to keep him in check and if he lost it he had no idea how he'd stop. "How could you protect a man like that from the FBI? How could you leave those parents waiting on news all these years, Toby? After what happened to your own son?"
"I loved him. He loved me."
Elliot's nails dug into his palms. "Animals like that don't love."
"You didn't know him."
"I know he raped and tortured and murdered three college boys. I've put dozens of animals just like him in prison, and I've seen how they manipulate people. Maybe he seduced you, Toby. Maybe he used you. He didn't love you."
"He confessed to ordering the hit on Hank Schillinger to save Holly's life. And mine. My whole family."
Elliot reeled at that. "Chris ordered the hit?"
Toby looked him straight in the eye. "No."
Elliot felt like he'd been punched. He'd suspected. He'd even condoned it. But now he knew Toby had committed first degree murder. Since he probably hadn't had thousands of dollars stuffed in his prison mattress, he must have made someone on the outside an accessory. His father, Elliot suspected. And Chris the psychopath had loved Toby enough to take the fall.
This was the explanation Elliot had been asking for. He was a stand-in for an abusive fuck, and Toby had probably been waiting for Elliot's fist from the very start. Maybe Toby had read him right, because even now Elliot was itching to put Toby into the wall, hurt him some more and ask him if he liked it.
It made Elliot want to crawl out of his skin, get as far away from the monster inside as he could.
"So the man that tortured your son was dead. And the man that tortured those boys was living happily ever after with you. You call that justice?"
That hit home. Toby curled in on himself. "Nothing in Oz had anything to do with justice. I never said Chris was a-"
"Why are you even here?" Elliot didn't want to hear another word about Chris Keller's good deeds.
Toby sat on a chair, uninvited. The chair where Lizzie sat, when the kids came for dinner. Elliot wanted to tell him not to touch it, not to touch anything in here. "I spent two months locked in plaster, imagining Chris and Vern laughing about stupid, gullible fucking Beecher, berating myself that I didn't see it, marinating in rage, and I don't want you to do that. I don't want you thinking this was a long con."
"Really, Toby? I should trust you on that?"
"I know. And I'm sorry." Toby looked up, blue eyes big and round and full of remorse that didn't put a dent in Elliot's anger. "I'm so fucking sorry. The truth is I was looking for him. I came to the courthouse, I called you to meet me because I wanted him alive and well and you were the closest thing I could find, and I kept being disappointed because you weren't even close to close. You were nothing like him, and at some point I didn't mind so much. At some point I realised I was relieved. I want you. I don't look at you and see him."
"Get the fuck out of my home." Elliot didn't believe it, and no way was Toby going to convince him. He went and opened the door.
Toby stayed right where he was. "I'm not asking you to forgive me for what I did. I came here today because I need you to believe that however it started, I care about you. You're not a fool. Don't blame yourself. I don't want that on my conscience."
Elliot sagged, a breathless laugh shaking his shoulders. He'd slept with this guy. He'd kissed him and confided secrets and curled up against him for comfort.
Toby stood up. "I know you probably think all this is bullshit, but I swear to you on Holly's life, every word I've said to you today is true." The pleading tone, the pleading eyes: it was unbelievable.
"You think I can forgive you, don't you?" Toby was actually holding out hope for it. That Elliot would forgive and forget like Toby forgave the psychopath that broke his bones and laughed about it.
"No." But Elliot could see he did. "I just know the poison running through your head right now. It's not going to get better until you forgive yourself."
"Really? You're going to be my counsellor now, you sick, serial killer-fucking scumbag?"
That hope dimmed. "I guess not."
"Get the hell out of my home before I have to throw you out." If Elliot put his hands on Toby, this was going to get ugly. Please, he wanted to tell him, please get the hell out.
Toby lowered his head, and, thank god, walked away.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Toby told Holly he had a headache, pretended he didn't notice her eyes drifting to his swollen face as he excused himself for bed.
He'd made it home from Elliot's this afternoon without stopping at a bar or corner dealer, and that seemed impressive enough. He'd cooked a balanced dinner and managed half an hour helping her practise using a combination lock for middle school and he didn't have the energy for any more good parenting. Luckily Holly wasn't expecting much these days, just watching him carefully with her wide worried eyes.
She'd wet the bed again last night, but she'd snuck the sheets down to the laundry herself sometime in the early hours, so Toby let her have the secret. If it happened again, he'd deal with it.
Toby curled on the bed, still dressed.
He'd thought he was fine. Another hope down the toilet, such was his life. He'd only meant to try to mitigate the damage, tell Elliot not to blame himself, not to feel the rage Toby had felt when he was locked in the casts, sick with Chris's betrayal. He'd planned out pieces of speeches, all the things he'd wanted to hear from Chris.
It lasted until Elliot opened the door. In that instant Toby had wanted to throw himself on his knees and beg Elliot to forgive him, to forget what Chris was. Offer to let Elliot break his arms. 'Break every fucking bone in my body; I'm not going to tell the hacks nothing.' As if that was a path to redemption. Fucking Chris, believing bones were the break that had to be forgiven.
Fucking Chris, lurking in Toby's memories, in his body, still filling Toby and surrounding him. He'd thrown himself off that balcony and he was still demanding Toby's loyalty.
How had Toby protected Chris, after what happened to Gary? Knowing what those parents were going through? It was prison mentality. You protected your own. You made your own justice. It hadn't been Toby's business to help those parents any more than it had been his business to help Cyril O'Reilly or Franklin Winthrop.
There was no place for heroism in Oz, just survival. You and yours. Chris had been his.
Three and a half years dead, and Chris was still fucking Toby over, sabotaging Toby from ever moving on, from building a life without him. Toby looked to the ceiling, wondered if Chris was up there, waiting for Toby to catch up so they could storm heaven together. "Fuck you, Chris." He wanted to yell it, but Holly was in the next room and what did it matter, anyway? If Chris was listening, he'd hear this just fine. "Fuck you, Chris. I choose Elliot. I choose him."
Except what was the point, choosing Elliot now? Elliot was gone.
Would Elliot go back to his wife? He still loved Kathy, and he'd be happier if he repaired things with her, got his family back. Happier than he could ever be with Toby. One day he'd look back on Toby as some kind of experiment-gone-wrong. A mid-life crisis, a learning experience.
Holly knocked gently on his door, and he ignored her.
Toby's chest hurt, and his throat hurt, and he wanted to put the pain off. If Holly wasn't standing guard, he'd be digging his slutty little dress out of the drawer. Or maybe he'd be headed for the street, cash in hand. If O'Reilly was here, Toby would have begged on his knees for something to send him somewhere warm and fuzzy for a while.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
end chapter 30
Feedback provides all the nutrients a growing squid needs. Concrit thoroughly welcome, warm fuzzies treasured. Here or at drsquidlove @@@ livejournal.com
The complete works of Dr Squidlove can be found at http://members.iinet.net.au/~tentacles/squidfic.html
S.
by Dr Squidlove
drsquidlove @@@ livejournal.com
Oz/Law & Order: SVU crossover
Tobias Beecher's trying to rebuild his family in the shadow of the man he was in prison. Elliot Stabler's struggling to continue in the wake of divorce while his job eats away at his soul. It makes for an odd friendship, but it works.
Rated R for violence and explicit references to sexual violence.
Wordcount this post: 3088
Full headers are on chapter 1.
Oz is the property of Tom Fontana and HBO. Law & Order: SVU is the property of Dick Wolf and NBC. The characters are used without permission, but with much appreciation.
Someone Like You
chapter 30: Monsters
by Dr Squidlove
Previously, in chapter 29, Interrogation:
Elliot was ready to defend Toby if the FBI was chasing him for Hank Schillinger's murder. He wasn't ready for Agent Taylor to ask if they were fucking. Or to find out that Chris Keller might be a serial murder-rapist. And he definitely wasn't ready to find out he and Chris were doppelgangers. Elliot pretty thoroughly lost the interrogation battle.
Olivia insisted on driving Elliot, while Elliot's brain whirled with excuses for Toby's lies.
As soon as Toby saw Elliot had Chris's mugshot, he knew their relationship was destroyed. In typical Toby fashion, he took a terrible situation and made it explode. Holly arrived just in time to see Elliot punch Toby. 'Cos she was in need of another dose of trauma.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Elliot pulled his feet up a step, staring across the dim backyard. They should have got rid of the swing set years ago. It only got used when Kathy's sister's family came to visit, and they'd be outgrowing it soon.
His phone buzzed again, shaking against the step. He'd turned off the ring. Didn't know why he didn't turn it off altogether. Maybe he just needed to know someone still gave a damn.
Everything made sense when he lived here. If he'd been a better husband, he'd still be living here. With Kathy, where there were no secret histories, not much in the way of secrets at all. Marriage wasn't easy, but it made sense. You took care of your wife, you took care of your kids. You got the bills paid and tried to keep the kids from irreversible disasters.
In all the mess he'd made, he'd never once had to doubt that Kathy chose him.
The phone buzzed.
"Are you going to answer that, or let Olivia worry all night?"
Elliot tried to answer, but it stuck in his throat. He hadn't meant to bother her. He just wanted to sit here, try to remember what it felt like to have solid ground under you, to know who and what the hell you were.
The screen door opened behind him, Kathy's soft footsteps coming close, and then she was beside him, warm and familiar. He wished he could go back to this. Kathy. His family, all in one house. It was too late now. He'd burned his bridges in the divorce, and Toby stood like a wedge between then and now.
"She called me twenty minutes ago, looking for you. She sounded worried."
After a moment Kathy leaned forward, and got a good look at his face. Which looked pretty bad, judging by her expression.
"Elliot, what's happened?"
"I'm sorry I fucked up our marriage."
There was barely a breath of laughter, and no humour in it. "Now you want to say that? Whatever's got to you tonight, it isn't our divorce."
The phone buzzed.
"Are you going to answer it?" When Elliot didn't move, Kathy leaned across him, god, the smell of her, of home and safety and certainty, all the best years of his life, and she picked up the phone. "Hi, Olivia. It's all right. I have him." She looked at him. "I don't know." A short pause."Can you clear him with Cragen tomorrow? I'm going to put him up here tonight. I don't think he'll make it in." Another pause. "I'll try. Thanks, Olivia."
She hung up and put the phone behind them, reached to squeeze his hand. He tensed and she drew it into the light instead with a whole new wave of concern. "Elliot? Did you hit a wall, or someone's face? Are you in trouble?"
He punched someone he loved. In front of his eleven year-old daughter. Because Toby looked at him and saw a pervert and a murderer.
Elliot put his head down on his knees. "When did I become a monster, Kathy?"
"You're not a monster. What the hell is going on in your head? Talk to me, El."
He had to fight to pull in his next breath, and Kathy wrapped an arm around his back, and Elliot wished he knew how to unwind time so he wouldn't wish Toby was the one here to hold him right now.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Elliot pushed, elbows shaking, lungs bursting until his shoulders locked, the barbell steady above him.
A moment to breathe and then down again, straining against gravity to keep it controlled.
He'd lost count long ago.
The clank of weights kept the quiet away. The concentration it took not to drop the weight on his neck kept his mind tied up.
Push. Up, up, muscles burning, palms sweating.
If he did this long enough, he might sleep tonight.
The doorbell rang, and Elliot swore, dropping the barbell onto its stand. He sat up, breathing hard, dazed. His tank top was soaked through. His hands were cramped.
The kids all assumed he was at work today. It had to be Olivia. But she would have called. Kathy was working. Toby wouldn't dare. Surely he wouldn't dare.
The pounding rush of blood in his veins throbbed even harder.
Fucking Toby. That fucking liar.
Through the peephole Elliot saw familiar light brown hair, his unwanted guest looking back toward the stairs. He hadn't thought he'd ever see Toby again, let alone on his doorstep two days later. He threw open the door. "You can't believe I want to-" Elliot caught sight of the dark bruise on Toby's jaw, the swollen lip, and stopped. He felt sick. That was his handiwork. "Is Holly all right?"
"She's okay. You should keep a safe distance. I told her it was my fault, but..."
"I shouldn't have hit you."
"I gave you plenty of reason."
"There's no reason. In front of your daughter, as if she hasn't seen enough violence in her life."
Toby finally backed down, not willing to argue that.
"I should have just left." He should have just walked away as soon as he saw that photo. "What the hell are you here for, Toby? We're through."
Toby dipped his head. Actual regret, or just playing contrition? How could Elliot tell? "I know. I just needed you to know... I wasn't... I was so busy torching whatever trust we had left, I forgot to tell you that you're nothing like him."
"Well, thanks for that, Toby."
Toby put a hand up as Elliot started to close the door. "You deserve an explanation." He looked around the dingy stairwell. "Can we not do this out here?"
Elliot didn't want Toby in his home. He didn't want Toby near him. Even now, staring right at the ugly grey swelling he'd left on Toby's mouth, Elliot could feel the rage tightening his spine. But he'd been sacked out on his couch for two days trying to make sense of it all and he was going crazy. He almost didn't care if Toby fed him another pile of lies, as long as it made sense.
So he left the door open and walked inside, backed up against the wall and folded his arms.
Toby hovered, looking awkward on his feet. "It was about Chris at first. It was uncanny. I saw you outside the club and it was like some storybook genie had granted me a wish."
Elliot shouldn't have invited him in. He didn't want to hear this. "Olivia was right. You were fixated on me back in the interviews."
"You looked so much like him." The longing in his tone turned Elliot's stomach. "You sounded like him. But underneath you were nothing alike. I kept trying to find him in you, the gestures, the mind; I was waiting for that little smile that let me in on the joke but... Chris was a selfish, arrogant sonofabitch. All he gave a damn about was protecting what was his and hurting anyone who got in his way."
"But you loved him."
Toby's voice rose, defensive. "You don't know. You can't imagine my life in there. After months of rape and humiliation he was the first person to show me any tenderness. Whatever he did before Oz, while he was in there he saved my life and he saved my kids."
"Do you have any idea what Chris Keller was capable of?"
"Of course I do," Toby snapped. "He did it to me."
There. That was what Elliot suspected. He took a step closer, unfolded his arms. "What did he do to you?"
"It doesn't matter."
"An explanation, Toby. Isn't that what you're here for?"
Toby moved further away, squeezed the back of a chair. "He broke my arms. He laughed while he broke my arms with his bare hands, and then he held me down while Vern broke my legs."
Elliot couldn't speak. Toby's mythical lover, that Elliot could never measure up to, broke Toby's bones? In league with his rapist?
"They were working together from the start. It was a big game: make Bitcher fall in love, and then break him. His whole seduction was a lie."
Elliot was paralysed.
Toby came closer, to just a few steps away. "So if you think I don't know what I've done to you, if you think I don't know just what a piece of shit I am, you're wrong. I'm sorry, Elliot."
That was what Elliot wanted to hear, wasn't it? That Chris Keller was a monster, that Toby was another one of his victims, like those boys. Not responsible. But then what had he been looking for in Elliot? More abuse? "What did you do?"
"After two months in hospital? I caught him in a dark room and I stuffed a shank in him as deep as I could. Nearly punctured his lung."
Elliot couldn't imagine Toby shanking anyone. He couldn't imagine wanting to do anything less. He wished Toby had killed Chris.
"You can see why I'm not crying about you splitting my lip."
"You look at me and you see the lover who betrayed you."
Toby huffed, a bitter smile on his lips. "You don't understand. That was all before. First I shanked him. Then I forgave him. And then we became lovers."
He ran the timeline through his head, over and over. It didn't make sense. "You became lovers after he broke your arms? After you found out he was friends with your rapist?"
"I'll never ask you to understand."
He did. That fuck assaulted Toby and then took advantage. What the hell went on in that prison? The rage came bubbling back. "I've seen plenty of victims of abuse. I understand, all right."
"It wasn't like that."
"Oh, so it was a healthy relationship with a serial killer? That makes you what, his accomplice? You'd be better off saying you were his victim." Elliot stepped back, fighting the urge to shove him. There was no daughter this time to keep him in check and if he lost it he had no idea how he'd stop. "How could you protect a man like that from the FBI? How could you leave those parents waiting on news all these years, Toby? After what happened to your own son?"
"I loved him. He loved me."
Elliot's nails dug into his palms. "Animals like that don't love."
"You didn't know him."
"I know he raped and tortured and murdered three college boys. I've put dozens of animals just like him in prison, and I've seen how they manipulate people. Maybe he seduced you, Toby. Maybe he used you. He didn't love you."
"He confessed to ordering the hit on Hank Schillinger to save Holly's life. And mine. My whole family."
Elliot reeled at that. "Chris ordered the hit?"
Toby looked him straight in the eye. "No."
Elliot felt like he'd been punched. He'd suspected. He'd even condoned it. But now he knew Toby had committed first degree murder. Since he probably hadn't had thousands of dollars stuffed in his prison mattress, he must have made someone on the outside an accessory. His father, Elliot suspected. And Chris the psychopath had loved Toby enough to take the fall.
This was the explanation Elliot had been asking for. He was a stand-in for an abusive fuck, and Toby had probably been waiting for Elliot's fist from the very start. Maybe Toby had read him right, because even now Elliot was itching to put Toby into the wall, hurt him some more and ask him if he liked it.
It made Elliot want to crawl out of his skin, get as far away from the monster inside as he could.
"So the man that tortured your son was dead. And the man that tortured those boys was living happily ever after with you. You call that justice?"
That hit home. Toby curled in on himself. "Nothing in Oz had anything to do with justice. I never said Chris was a-"
"Why are you even here?" Elliot didn't want to hear another word about Chris Keller's good deeds.
Toby sat on a chair, uninvited. The chair where Lizzie sat, when the kids came for dinner. Elliot wanted to tell him not to touch it, not to touch anything in here. "I spent two months locked in plaster, imagining Chris and Vern laughing about stupid, gullible fucking Beecher, berating myself that I didn't see it, marinating in rage, and I don't want you to do that. I don't want you thinking this was a long con."
"Really, Toby? I should trust you on that?"
"I know. And I'm sorry." Toby looked up, blue eyes big and round and full of remorse that didn't put a dent in Elliot's anger. "I'm so fucking sorry. The truth is I was looking for him. I came to the courthouse, I called you to meet me because I wanted him alive and well and you were the closest thing I could find, and I kept being disappointed because you weren't even close to close. You were nothing like him, and at some point I didn't mind so much. At some point I realised I was relieved. I want you. I don't look at you and see him."
"Get the fuck out of my home." Elliot didn't believe it, and no way was Toby going to convince him. He went and opened the door.
Toby stayed right where he was. "I'm not asking you to forgive me for what I did. I came here today because I need you to believe that however it started, I care about you. You're not a fool. Don't blame yourself. I don't want that on my conscience."
Elliot sagged, a breathless laugh shaking his shoulders. He'd slept with this guy. He'd kissed him and confided secrets and curled up against him for comfort.
Toby stood up. "I know you probably think all this is bullshit, but I swear to you on Holly's life, every word I've said to you today is true." The pleading tone, the pleading eyes: it was unbelievable.
"You think I can forgive you, don't you?" Toby was actually holding out hope for it. That Elliot would forgive and forget like Toby forgave the psychopath that broke his bones and laughed about it.
"No." But Elliot could see he did. "I just know the poison running through your head right now. It's not going to get better until you forgive yourself."
"Really? You're going to be my counsellor now, you sick, serial killer-fucking scumbag?"
That hope dimmed. "I guess not."
"Get the hell out of my home before I have to throw you out." If Elliot put his hands on Toby, this was going to get ugly. Please, he wanted to tell him, please get the hell out.
Toby lowered his head, and, thank god, walked away.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Toby told Holly he had a headache, pretended he didn't notice her eyes drifting to his swollen face as he excused himself for bed.
He'd made it home from Elliot's this afternoon without stopping at a bar or corner dealer, and that seemed impressive enough. He'd cooked a balanced dinner and managed half an hour helping her practise using a combination lock for middle school and he didn't have the energy for any more good parenting. Luckily Holly wasn't expecting much these days, just watching him carefully with her wide worried eyes.
She'd wet the bed again last night, but she'd snuck the sheets down to the laundry herself sometime in the early hours, so Toby let her have the secret. If it happened again, he'd deal with it.
Toby curled on the bed, still dressed.
He'd thought he was fine. Another hope down the toilet, such was his life. He'd only meant to try to mitigate the damage, tell Elliot not to blame himself, not to feel the rage Toby had felt when he was locked in the casts, sick with Chris's betrayal. He'd planned out pieces of speeches, all the things he'd wanted to hear from Chris.
It lasted until Elliot opened the door. In that instant Toby had wanted to throw himself on his knees and beg Elliot to forgive him, to forget what Chris was. Offer to let Elliot break his arms. 'Break every fucking bone in my body; I'm not going to tell the hacks nothing.' As if that was a path to redemption. Fucking Chris, believing bones were the break that had to be forgiven.
Fucking Chris, lurking in Toby's memories, in his body, still filling Toby and surrounding him. He'd thrown himself off that balcony and he was still demanding Toby's loyalty.
How had Toby protected Chris, after what happened to Gary? Knowing what those parents were going through? It was prison mentality. You protected your own. You made your own justice. It hadn't been Toby's business to help those parents any more than it had been his business to help Cyril O'Reilly or Franklin Winthrop.
There was no place for heroism in Oz, just survival. You and yours. Chris had been his.
Three and a half years dead, and Chris was still fucking Toby over, sabotaging Toby from ever moving on, from building a life without him. Toby looked to the ceiling, wondered if Chris was up there, waiting for Toby to catch up so they could storm heaven together. "Fuck you, Chris." He wanted to yell it, but Holly was in the next room and what did it matter, anyway? If Chris was listening, he'd hear this just fine. "Fuck you, Chris. I choose Elliot. I choose him."
Except what was the point, choosing Elliot now? Elliot was gone.
Would Elliot go back to his wife? He still loved Kathy, and he'd be happier if he repaired things with her, got his family back. Happier than he could ever be with Toby. One day he'd look back on Toby as some kind of experiment-gone-wrong. A mid-life crisis, a learning experience.
Holly knocked gently on his door, and he ignored her.
Toby's chest hurt, and his throat hurt, and he wanted to put the pain off. If Holly wasn't standing guard, he'd be digging his slutty little dress out of the drawer. Or maybe he'd be headed for the street, cash in hand. If O'Reilly was here, Toby would have begged on his knees for something to send him somewhere warm and fuzzy for a while.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
end chapter 30
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