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Written for the fanfic100 challenge.

Over the Rainbow

by Riley Cannon

Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm. Toby focused on that mantra, backing it up with slow and steady breaths as he sat at the scarred, wooden table, waiting. This was a mistake, after all; everything would get straightened out and he would be on his way home in no time. He had to believe that.

Unable to remain entirely still, however, he casually pushed back from the table and stood up. That was okay; he could move around a little, bleed off some energy. No one could read guilt into that.

Paused in front of the mirror, he was comforted to see how unruffled and assured he appeared. Maybe a trace of impatience, but that was perfectly understandable under the circumstances. Whoever was on the other side of this mirror, watching him, they weren't seeing anyone but a man perfectly willing to cooperate with the police even though he really had some better things to be doing. And he was being watched. He could feel it right through the glass, a pair of blue eyes fixed on him, piercing right through him with a potent intensity.

Toby ran a hand back through his hair, scratched an eyebrow. Not nervous -- impatient. Who wouldn't be?

The door opened. He watched him come in, filling the small room with attitude. His shirtsleeves were rolled up now, tie and collar loosened, giving every appearance of ease and bonhomie. "Can I get you a cup of coffee?"

Well aware of how deep faades like that ran, Toby shook his head. "No, thank you, I'm fine. Have you," he made it casual as could be, the most innocuous curiosity, "cleared up the misunderstanding, Detective?"

"No, actually." He pulled out one of the chairs at the table, waved Toby to the other one. He sat down after Toby, rested his hands on the scratched, unpolished wood. They were good hands. Strong-looking, assured, and Toby's gaze was drawn to the gold wedding ring glinting in a shaft of light. "You never saw the victim before?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Well, you know," Chris Keller said, "I find that very odd, Mr. Beecher, because we know you and Ronnie Barlog shared a cell at Oswald."

Oh fuck.
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