Keller: At first I wanted unconditional surrender, then I wanted unconditional love. But Beecher don't love me.
Sister Pete: And that's killing you inside.
Keller: Yeah.

Prologue

Keller: You should take care of where you stick your dick. That baby is lethal.
Beecher: You know, I liked it better when we weren't speaking.

Tobias Beecher, Esq., Attorney at Law and ex-con, drove his Bentley down the 335 from the palatial home he shared with his wife and children in Chevy Chase. It was a nice day, he reflected. No rain, although the sky was overcast, the hint of chill in the air a prelude to the arrival of winter. Fall this year had not been as wet as other years, or so Toby had heard. After all, fall for the last few years had been spent inside Emerald City with its plexiglass walls and grey, bolted-down furniture, and one season inside prison was much like another. Sometimes, Toby wondered if the fact he could now see the sky was a dream, a trick played by Schillinger or one of his Aryans, some drug-fuelled fantasy before the inevitable knife in the back.

But no, the sky was really there and so were the leaden grey clouds. A few drops of rain splashed on the windshield and Toby smiled slightly. The little things, when you were in prison, were the things that made you appreciate being out and being alive more than anything. More than a warm body against his own, more than a low growl in his ear, the rumbling purr of his name as his lover touched him.

Toby shook his head to dispel those thoughts – memories. That was in the past. Chris Keller and his enticements, his friendship, his...love...all in the past. Toby had done everything he could as soon as he'd been paroled, not just to get Keller off Death Row but to arrange parole for him. As far as legal accomplishments went, getting Keller parole well before his fifty-year application date, was something that any criminal defence lawyer would be proud of. Toby just felt numb.

Once out, the parole officer had set Keller up in an apartment in Adam's Morgan, DC, home of drugs, high crime, murder and kidnapping. Keller hadn't complained, merely smirked at the pudgy man who oversaw his existence. He'd taken the apartment in a shabby block, gotten a job at a local garage because he was good with cars and his hands and seemed to fall easily into the life of a paroled ex-con. Toby suspected that Keller was involved with shady deals that no one except Keller knew anything about, but he hadn't asked, didn't want to ask. It was enough that Keller was free, out of Oz, and so was he.

At first, they'd continued their trysts, late night meetings in the tiny apartment Keller lived in, hot, hard, and hungry; quick bursts of passion flaring in white heat. But life outside slowly took over and Toby found he had more work to do, less time to himself and less time for Keller. And Keller...well, Keller had never been one to just take that shit on the chin.

At least, Toby thought, he had gotten out of the fight without any broken bones, although he did have to brush off questions about the black eye he was sporting. That had been four weeks ago and Toby hadn't seen Keller since.

The Bentley drove like a dream and Toby sighed as he paid scant attention to the road, the bare minimum required so as not to break any traffic laws. Lawyer he may be, but he was also on parole and it wouldn't do him any good to end up back in Oz because of something stupid like a traffic violation. He missed Keller, more than he thought. And not just because of the sex, even though, oh fuck, Keller really was a god in bed and knew how to play Toby's body like a virtuoso. He missed Keller's smile, his laugh; the animated conversation when Keller was drinking; Keller's hot, hard body; the way Keller could look at him, one of those dark, appraising glances, and know immediately what Toby was feeling. Most of all, he thought as he stopped the Bentley at a red light, he missed hearing Keller's voice.

But that was all over now. A high-demand attorney – even one who was an ex-con – should really know better than to associate with other ex-cons, even if - especially if - they were lovers. Keller had seen through all of Toby's reasons for why they shouldn't see each other anymore, cut right through the flimsy excuses of 'too much work' and 'the kids need me' to what Toby himself didn't want to face. Toby's social standing depended on not being the lover of an ex-con fresh out of Oz, who'd been inside for murder – alleged or proven.

The light turned green and Toby stepped on the gas, driving the Bentley into downtown DC and towards the heritage building where his family's law firm was. He needed to stop thinking about Keller if at all possible, and concentrate on work; he huffed a wry laugh at himself, knowing that was utterly futile.

He parked the Bentley in the lock-up garage and took the elevator up to his office, nodded a greeting to his secretary and closed the door behind him. A stack of folders on his desk awaited him, obviously information about a case that the firm felt he should take. With a sigh, Toby sat down and got to work.

Part One

Beecher: Don't be mad.
Keller: I'm not mad.
Beecher: Yeah, you are.
Keller: No, it was a stupid idea. I just didn't think things through. That's my problem. I don't think anything all of the fucking way through.
Beecher: I hate it when you're self-deprecating. It's so cute.

Keller was brooding. Of course, he would deny that if someone suggested it to him, right after he punched them in the nose. He'd been given the day off and, bored after twenty minutes pacing back and forth in his apartment, he'd taken a six-pack of beer, gotten into his battered old Mustang, and started to drive. There had been no real destination in mind, just a desire to move, to get away, to feel less like a penned-in animal. The terms of his parole were strict enough, but Keller was careful to make sure that he wasn't going to break any of them. After all that Toby had done to get him out of Oz, he sure as shit wasn't going to do anything to get tossed back in there. So he drove, keeping to the speed limit, mindful of the traffic, and taking random turns until he found himself driving along a nearly deserted road, the shimmer of dark water on the horizon calling him on.

He found himself parking beneath a tree and staring at the Potomac River in front of him. The sky was grey and the waters of the river were a dark blue, almost charcoal. He snagged a beer and slid out of the car, moving to lean against the front grille as he popped the cap off the bottle and took a swig, gazing out at the water.

The wind was cold, but Keller ignored it. He watched the ripples and tiny waves moving on the surface of the Potomac, their restless, ceaseless churning and felt a tiny pang of something he might call regret. He scowled, annoyance rising, and took another swig of beer. There was no one else around, he noted as he looked to his right and left. No one to pay attention to him leaning against his car and glaring at the river.

It started to rain in fitful spits of water and Keller ignored them in favour of glaring at the river. "Fuck you, Beecher," he growled as the rain continued to fall in that intermittent drizzle that was more of an irritant than anything else. "Fuck you and your fucking perfect fucking life. Fuck you and fuck me for falling for you, you fuck."

The scowl deepened and Keller finished his beer and absently threw the bottle into the river. It landed with a satisfying splash, bobbing on the waves before sinking slowly down. Keller rubbed his face with one hand, brushing off the drops of rain. "Worse than three fucking wives," he muttered.

Shit, this was ridiculous. Keller shook his head at himself and then laughed, a brittle sound. Beecher had fucked him good and proper this time, and he couldn't do anything to get him back now that they were both outside. More importantly, he didn't want to go back to Oz and Emerald City unless he was taking Beecher with him. And there was no chance in hell of that.

Keller walked back around to the side of the car and fished out another beer. As he opened it and took a drink, he knew he should pace himself and be careful – it would be beyond stupid to get done for driving under the influence while on parole. He sighed, locked up the car and walked towards the edge of the riverbank.

There were small stones littering the edge of the bank and Keller bent and picked up a handful. He straightened and hefted the small rocks, took another swig of beer and skipped the stones over the restless surface of the Potomac.

How long he stayed there he couldn't say, but the day gradually grew darker, and Keller knew night wasn't far away. He finished the beer and threw the bottle into the water, where it followed the first one he had tossed away down into the murky depths.

It was raining in earnest as he drove back towards the run-down block where he lived. The streets were nearly empty, no one wanting to be out in such miserable weather. He parked the Mustang in the lot behind his apartment block, taking his usual precautions to secure the car against theft, and then went into the building, climbed the four flights of stairs to his apartment and went inside. Nothing had changed really, and, depressed and hating it, Keller began to strip off his clothes as he kicked the door shut.

Naked, he padded to the bathroom, took a quick shower and dried himself off roughly, then sprawled on the mattress that doubled as a sofa, lying back and staring at the ceiling with its peeling paint and water stains. As always, his thoughts drifted towards Beecher, and his hand slid down his body to his cock. His eyes fell shut and immediately images swam behind his eyelids: Beecher in the shower, soaping himself up, hands on his cock and balls, teasing Keller; Beecher smiling at him as he leaned in for a kiss; Beecher on his back, legs spread, skin damp with sweat and begging Keller to fuck him. Stolen kisses in corridors and dark corners, hot kisses that left them both breathless and wanting, muffling sounds of pleasure as they fucked in the dark, not wanting to be caught.

Keller came with a groan, and rolled onto his stomach. He felt lousy, angry and it was only stubborn pride that stopped him from getting up, dressing and going down to his car, driving over to Mr Big Shot Lawyer Beecher's house so he could break in and fuck Beecher six ways from Sunday. He was not going to give Beecher the satisfaction of knowing, of seeing, just how much he needed him. Because Keller didn't need anyone, not anymore.

He laughed at himself then and buried his face in the lumpy pillow. He couldn't lie to himself forever. He did need Beecher and he was stupidly, completely, fucked up in love with him. Beecher had promised he'd never forget him but Keller knew that Beecher was well on the way towards doing exactly that.

*~*~*

It was late afternoon when Keller walked towards the apartment building. It had been a slow day at the garage and it was only because the owner liked him that he hadn't had his hours cut back. Keller was grateful for that; the old man who owned the business told him that he reminded him of his son, many years dead. But a slow day at work meant that Keller's temper was on a shorter fuse than usual, and finally his boss had sent him home just after 4pm.

Keller turned to walk up the steps towards the door of the building and stopped, staring in surprise. His mouth opened and closed like a fish as he stared at the person standing by the door, huddling into a black wool coat.

"Genevieve?"

The woman stared at him, her expression carefully neutral. Keller could see the hate in her eyes, and something else. Fear? He took a step towards her, and frowned slightly as she licked her lips, eyes darting away. "Genevieve, what the hell are you doing here?" He shook his head. "You got a death wish, lady?"

She looked at him then, defiance in her eyes now, and Keller couldn't help but grin. He could understand why Beecher had married her – she was a beautiful woman after all.

"No," she replied, her voice clipped, cold. "I...I need your help."

Keller stared at her for a minute and then threw back his head and laughed. "You, Genevieve Beecher, need my help? What the fuck for?"

She glared at him, although her gaze darted nervously towards a group of teenagers who leered at her. "Can we talk inside, please?"

"Sure." Lips twitching with mirth, Keller gestured grandly at the door, ignoring the raucous catcalls of the youths. "After you."

She eyed him suspiciously, but opened the door and Keller followed. In the dimly lit entryway, he pushed past her and headed towards the stairs. "Coming?" he asked over his shoulder, and after a moment she followed him. Shaking his head in amusement, Keller led the way up to his apartment.

Once the door was closed behind them, Genevieve stood stiffly, looking out of place. Keller regarded her and then shrugged. "So what d'you need my help for?"

Genevieve glared at him and then said quietly, "My former husband has...gone missing."

Keller blinked. "Former? No, wait. Gone missing? What d'you mean?"

She sighed, leaning back against the door. Keller realised that this was as relaxed as she was going to get. He stood back and waited for her to speak – no sense spooking her, after all, and his curiosity was piqued.

"We're separated, if you must know." Genevieve looked at the floor. "We live in the same house for the sake of the children. They've had enough upheaval in their lives." Unspoken was that all the upheaval and stress had been brought on by Beecher's time in Oz and by his relationship with Keller.

"Huh," Keller said. "Go on."

She rolled her eyes. "Man of few words when you want to be, aren't you?" She shook her head. "No, never mind. Tobias has gone missing and I don't know what to do. The police have no leads and told me to...to prepare for the worst." She swallowed hard. "It seems to me that you might have more luck in finding him than the police."

Keller stared at her. "You want me to find Beecher."

Genevieve nodded. "I'll pay you –"

"Don't want your money," Keller cut her off. "I want something else."

"What?" She sounded wary.

"I want you to make it fucking clear as crystal to Toby that you don't give a shit if he's with me. Matter of fact, you should encourage him."

Genevieve nodded curtly. "All right. But not around our children. Not yet."

Keller nodded in response. "Deal. So tell me what happened. All of it." He didn't mention that he wasn't at all sure he could find Beecher, DC wasn't known as the murder capital of the US for nothing. There was a cold anger inside him, an uncoiling of rage at the thought of something happening to Beecher, of never seeing him again. He forced himself to pay attention to what Genevieve was saying and to how she said it. In his experience, you could learn just as much from what a person didn't say as from what they did.

Genevieve sighed heavily and reached into the large handbag she carried. As Keller cocked an eyebrow, she withdrew a cream folder and held it out to him. "That's the file he was working on," she began. "I made a copy before the police investigated his office." Keller took the file and nodded. "However, Tobias was due home for dinner last night, but he never arrived." She sighed. "The children are...upset."

"'Course they are," Keller said softly. "I'm not arguing that. What did you tell 'em?"

Genevieve shook her head. "Not a lot. I said their father had gone on a business trip and that seemed to calm them."

"Might be best to keep that as the cover story for now," Keller replied. "So, when did you call the cops?"

"I went to his office first. I had the nanny take the children to bed and went to the office, but while the lights were on, no one was there. There was no sign of a struggle, just that folder on his desk. So I copied it and then called the police. They sent me home," she added, and there was a trace of bitterness in her voice.

"Yeah." Keller shook his head. "They don't like it when people stick around crime scenes."

"Is it a crime scene, then, Mr Keller?"

He shrugged. "Can't say. Is there anything that makes you think it should be?"

Genevieve laughed, a sound that contained no humour. "Apart from his need to take on pro bono clients from Oswald Correctional Facility, no. Oh, the case in that folder is for the parole of someone named Miguel Alvaredo. Do you know him?"

Keller's felt his expression harden, grow cold. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I know him. You sure that was the case?"

She sighed. "That's what's in the file, Mr Keller."

"Then yeah, this is a crime." Keller was proud of the fact that his voice contained no hint of his rage. "You should go home, Genevieve. This part of town isn't safe after dark, especially for a rich white lady."

Genevieve nodded. "I will. Is there some way I can contact you? A cell number?"

"Sure." Keller scribbled his cell number on a dirty paper napkin and handed it to her. To her credit, she took it without any outward sign of disdain.

"Thank you," Genevieve said softly. "My card is in the folder. Please call me when you know something. Anything."

"Okay," Keller said.

Genevieve turned and opened the door. She paused then looked Keller straight in the eye. "Thank you, Chris," she said seriously, and then she was gone, the sound of her high-heels soft on the stairs.

Keller shut the door and carefully placed the folder on top of the beat up television. Then he proceeded to swear at length, venting his anger. He pounded one fist on the wall, earning a muffled "Fucken shut up!" from his neighbour, but he ignored it.

Finally, calm enough to read the contents of the folder, Keller sat, stretched his legs out in front of him and read and reread the files. A sneaking suspicion was growing in him and he had long ago learned to trust that instinct, that gut instinct that told him when something wasn't quite right. To make sure that his instinct wasn't leading him down the wrong path – after all, when it came to Toby, Keller knew he never had his head on straight – he picked up his cell and dialled Sister Pete. If he'd timed it right, she'd still be at Oz, just about ready to go home.

On the third ring, a tired voice answered. "Sister Peter Marie."

"Hey, Sister," Keller put all his charm into his voice.

"Keller? Is that you?" Sister Pete's voice sounded surprised but happy to hear from him. "How are you, Chris?"

"Okay. Listen, I need to know something – is Alvaredo up for parole?"

He could hear the frown in her voice. "No, Chris, he's not. His last parole hearing was last week and it was denied. Why do you ask?"

Keller swallowed hard. "Beecher's missing," he said tightly. "I had a hunch something was wrong."

There was a moment's silence, then Sister Pete said quietly, "The Aryans have been looking smug lately. This might explain it."

Keller clenched and unclenched his free hand, struggling to keep a grip on his temper. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Another pause, then, "Don't do anything to get yourself sent back here," Sister Pete warned.

"I won't. Schillinger still in?"

"He is. Nothing has changed in that...group." Keller could hear her distaste clearly.

"Okay." He nodded. "Thanks. Nice talking to ya, Sister."

She laughed then. "Chris, I don't want to sound rude, but I hope never to see you again. Stay clean, okay?"

He laughed as well. "Sure, Sister. Thanks."

"No problem, Chris."

He ended the call and ground his teeth together. Of course, Keller thought, it would be the fucking Aryans and that fucker Schillinger. He should've killed him in Oz, done the job properly, but no, Toby was always on at him to leave it alone, not to go overboard. Stupid fuck. Trying to make nice to a crocodile made you likely to get your hand bitten off and if Beecher were any more naive, he'd lose more than just a hand.

Keller steeled himself, flipped open the cell again and dialled another number. He was going to need a few things and then he was going to have to cover his ass so he could hunt down Beecher. After a few rings, the phone was answered.

"What?"

Keller cleared his throat. "I need something."

"That's what we do," said the feminine voice on the other end of the line. "What d'you want and for who?"

"Alex, cut the shit," Keller growled. "You know it's me, Keller."

"Can never be too sure, Keller." The voice was coolly professional. "So what do you need and how much are you willing to pay?"

For Beecher? Everything. Anything. "I need a good, high-end GPS unit. Something that'll let me know where I've been and keep a log stored in the memory. I'll pay what's fair."

"Hm. Pricey. Top end gear. Wait." Keller could hear the muffled sound of voices and surmised that Alex was speaking with Izzy, the other half of the operation. It never failed to amuse him that two of DCs biggest cons were women, women who stayed alive by ensuring that they could get you anything you wanted, anytime, anywhere...for a price.

"Okay, can do." Alex's voice in his ear was calm. "Call this a gift."

"Huh?"

"Okay, a favour then." He could almost hear her rolling her eyes. "Come to the boat first light."

"Sure. Hey, thanks."

"Don't thank me," Alex replied, "I think you're gonna rip us off. Thank Izzy. She read about your boyfriend in the paper."

Keller tensed and then nodded. "Okay, tell her thanks for me."

"Tell her yourself tomorrow," Alex replied curtly, and the line went dead.

Relieved, Keller took a deep breath and made the second business call, the one he was dreading. Only for Beecher would he go so far as to owe this woman a favour.

"Maryland Agriculture," a smooth, cultured voice answered.

"Laura, it's Keller."

"Ah. You need something."

Keller appreciated the fact she got right down to business. He still had a lot to do before he could actually start hunting for Beecher. "Yeah. Can you help me out?"

"This about Beecher?"

"Has it been all over the papers already?"

"Yes." Laura's voice betrayed her annoyance. "Idiot cops, you'd think they'd wait a bit before releasing a statement. Who knows who has him."

"You could find out..."

She cut him off. "I could try, but that doesn't necessarily mean I'll succeed. Anyway, we'll talk about that later. What do you need?"

"Information," Keller said firmly. "I'll come by in the morning, after I get something from the docks."

"Ah." Laura's voice was calm. "Say hi to the ladies of A & I Industries for me, won't you?"

Keller rolled his eyes. "Sure," he replied. "Anything else I can do for you?"

"I'll let you know. See you tomorrow." Laura hung up.

Keller debated with himself about calling his boss at the garage, but in the end respect and genuine fondness for the old man made him decide to pay him a visit instead.

Romeo's cottage was next to the garage – the buildings shared a wall, and the front room of the cottage served as Romeo's office. The old man blinked in surprise when he saw Keller standing on his front porch and ushered him inside.

"You look like hell, Chris," Romeo said without preamble. "What's wrong?"

Keller took a deep breath. "I need a favour," he said quietly. The rate he was racking up favours tonight, too many people would have him by the short and curlies, but he found he didn't care. Worry for Beecher – because of Beecher – made him determined to do whatever it took to get him back from whoever had him.

"That doesn't sound good," Romeo said quietly, gesturing for Keller to sit. As the old man lowered himself into a well-worn armchair, he added, "This about that big shot lawyer that got kidnapped? The one who got you out on parole?"

Keller nodded. "Yeah. I hear it's been all over the news."

"And then some." Romeo shook his head. "Those poor kids."

Keller couldn't argue with that. "I'm going to get him back."

Romeo blinked. "You got an idea where he is?"

"Not yet," Keller admitted, "but I've called in a few favours." Okay, so that was a blatant lie, but it didn't matter to him right then. "Thing is, my parole..."

"Ah," Romeo interrupted. "I see what you need. Sure, I'll cover for you, Keller." He smiled at the younger man sadly. "You're like a son to me, boy. You go get the lawyer out of trouble and I'll keep the parole board from kicking your ass back into prison."

"Thanks," Keller said softly.

"No need to thank me." Romeo's smile broadened. "You're a good guy, Keller, and I like you. Plus, you're real good with engines and making sure the bills are paid on time. The customers like you and I'd be a fool if I let you go. Just come back to work in one piece, capice?"

Keller grinned. "I'll do my best."

"That's all a man can ask." Romeo nodded. "You eaten yet?"

Keller shook his head, suddenly realising he was starving. "No."

"Too much stress, eh?" Romeo shook his head, then called out, "Hey, Maria!"

"What?" Several minutes later a plump, elderly woman wearing the black of deep mourning shuffled into the room. "Keller."

"Hey."

"Keller's staying for dinner. There enough food?"

Maria snorted. "There's enough food for an army. You hungry, Chris?"

"Yes, ma'am." Keller shot her his most charming smile and she snorted, amused.

"Ah, save your charm, boy. Don't work on me, I'm too old for those sorts of games. Go wash up then come into the kitchen and we'll eat."

*~*~*~*

The ring of his cell phone jerked Keller awake and he rubbed his eyes with one hand, trying to focus as he flipped the phone open with the other. "Keller," he growled, stifling a yawn.

"Good morning, Mr Keller." It was Genevieve. "I thought I ought to warn you – the police will be wanting to speak to you."

Keller was instantly alert. "Fuck. Why?"

She sighed heavily. "There was a ransom note delivered to Tobias' office. They want two million dollars and they want you to deliver it."

Keller blinked, then narrowed his eyes. "Do they. And who is this 'they'?"

"I don't know." There was a slight tremor in her voice and Keller realised she was worried, very worried. "Keller, they want to do the exchange in Rock Creek Park."

"Shit." Keller groaned. "Okay, thanks for letting me know."

"What are you going to do?"

"What I need to," Keller answered. "I'll be in touch." He hung up.

He'd barely put the cell down when there was a loud pounding on the door. "Okay, okay, I'm coming, shit," he groused as he stood up and went to open the door.

On the threshold stood two police officers, his parole officer and a distressed looking DA.

"Swell," Keller drawled. "What'd I do this time?"

"Nothin', Keller," replied the parole officer, glaring with obvious dislike. "What you're gonna do is something good for once in your life."

"Come with us," one of the police officers said and Keller sighed, grabbed his jacket from the floor and nodded.

"Okay. Don't got much choice, do I?"

"Nope," replied the cop.

*~*~*

"So, let me get this straight." Keller looked between the faces staring at him. They were in the DA's office: Keller, two police officers, a plain-clothes detective, the DA and her assistant, and Beecher's uncle. "You're gonna give me some kind of parole...thing...so I can find Tobias Beecher? Why not just pay the ransom?"

The DA sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Because, Keller, Rock Creek Park isn't exactly the safest of places and there's no guarantee..."

"Ah." Keller nodded. "I get it. No guarantee that even if you pay the ransom, Toby'll be delivered alive."

"Yes." She nodded.

"So why me? I mean, the cops, or a PI or..."

"Because you know Mr Beecher," the DA said. "And because we have reason to believe you may have had some experience in... thwarting the people who have him."

"Pretend I'm stupid," Keller said. "Who d'you think has him?"

Uncle Beecher made a rude noise, but the DA held up a hand and he stayed silent. "Friends of one Vernon Schillinger, if not Schillinger himself. We understand he and Mr Beecher had an antagonistic relationship inside Emerald City."

Keller barked a laugh. "Bit of an understatement."

"Will you do it?" The DA gazed at Keller, unblinking.

"Okay."

The tension in the room seemed to ease and Keller cocked an eyebrow.

"Will you need anything?" The DA's voice was soft.

"Money," Keller said. "Things I need to get before I go down there, they ain't cheap. And," he grinned at his parole officer, "a gun'd be great."

The DA nodded. "Consider it done."

Christ, they must really be rattled. "Thanks. Knew I could count on the City to come through."

"Don't think you'll keep the gun, Keller," the DA warned him. "We'll take it back and your parole conditions will be restored the moment you have Mr Beecher safe. Don't think for a moment about skipping out – we'll be watching you."

Keller nodded, he'd expected that. "Just don't make your surveillance too obvious," he warned. "Otherwise might just be that's the thing that gets Beecher killed."

The DA nodded. "Understood." A long pause and then she added, "And good luck. Be careful in Rock Creek Park."

Keller nodded. "So...gun?"

She sighed and gestured to the plain-clothes detective. "Take him down and get him a gun."

The officer nodded, his expression betraying how unimpressed he was with the whole idea. But considering the situation, there wasn't much else they could do.

*~*~*

Outside of the police station, the police-issued sidearm tucked safely beneath his shirt, Keller took a deep breath. The cocky facade slipped away to be replaced by cold calm. People gave him a wide berth as they walked past him, but Keller ignored them. He hailed a cab and went back to his apartment block and to his car.

He'd packed light – a wad of cash stuffed into the inner pocket in his jacket and another several bills buried in each of his boots. The rest of the money he stowed in the car, then, shifting the gun to a more comfortable spot, Keller took a deep breath and drove first to the marina.

Sauntering towards the palatial boat that was the home of Alex and Izzy, Keller mused idly that it would only stand to reason that it was the women of DC crime that would have him by the balls. Owing these women a favour was, Keller thought, much like promising a rare steak dinner to hungry piranhas.

Alex was waiting for him, leaning against the side of the boat. "Hey," she called as he stopped by the gangplank leading to the deck from the dock.

"Hey yourself." Keller looked up at her. "Can I come up?"

She nodded and he took a deep breath and climbed up easily, jumping onto the deck and grinning at her.

"Smooth," Alex said with a slight smile.

"That's me, Sugar."

"Must you?" she asked wearily and Keller laughed.

"Nah. Where's Izzy?"

"Right here." Izzy emerged from below-decks, holding a small box. A Bluetooth phone headset rested against her left ear. "Laura says hurry the fuck up and get on over there."

"Sorry, I was delayed by the cops," Keller said and had the satisfaction of seeing both women glare at him, shut down their friendly facades and go stone cold. "Relax," he added as Alex drew her gun, "They weren't interested in you ladies. They want me to find Beecher. In," he paused for dramatic effect, "Rock Creek Park."

Alex lowered the gun even as her eyebrows shot up in surprise. Izzy appeared no less astonished by this information.

"They what? No, I don't care." Izzy shook her head. "So long as you don't bring shit down on us, Keller. We don't need the cops fishing around here."

"I won't. It'll be fine, relax." Keller held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "They want Beecher found. They seem to think that even if the ransom for him is paid, they might not necessarily get him back in one piece."

Alex and Izzy exchanged a long look. "Rock Creek Park isn't a playground," Izzy said slowly. "You do know about how much shit goes on there – and that's only the stuff that does get found. God knows how many bodies are rotting in there never found by anyone."

Keller nodded. "Yeah. That's part of why they want me to go in. Also, I guess I'm expendable."

Alex snorted. "Yeah, well. Much as I could bounce a dime off your ass, Keller, I can't see you taking up a life of crime fighting and strutting around in those nice tight pants cops wear."

Keller burst out laughing. "Didn't know you were checking me out, Sugar."

"Here." Izzy handed him the box. "Take your nice tight ass off our boat and go and see Laura. She's waiting for you."

"Can you call and let her know I'm on the way?"

"Yeah." Izzy nodded. "Now get the fuck off our boat. And remember," she grinned wolfishly, "you owe us a favour."

"Like you wildcats would let me forget." He laughed, taking the box.

"Luck, Keller," Alex called to him. "Oh, you packing?"

"Yeah." He nodded as he looked up at her from the dock.

"One?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Alex tossed him a small duffle bag. "Consider that a good luck gift. Now fuck off."

"Thanks." Keller waved and headed back to the car. Once inside, the door locked, he examined the box Izzy had given him, but it was unmarked. Obviously whatever sort of GPS unit was inside it, it was hot. He shook his head, amused. Would it be anything else? Hardly. He turned his attention to the bag Alex had given him and opened it, whistling in surprise as he took in the sleek shine of the Beretta and the boxes of ammo. He stashed the bag under his seat and started the car, driving towards the Maryland Agriculture Estate.

Keller put on his most charming smile as he rang the doorbell. There was a moment's pause and then the door opened, revealing Laura, holding a large orange cat. The cat took one look at Keller and promptly threw up.

"What the fuck?" Keller stared in horror at the small pile of feline vomit on the doorstep.

"Sorry," Laura said, although she didn't sound sorry at all. "He gets nervous when he's surprised. I think he's bulimic."

"You have a fucking bulimic cat?!" Keller carefully stepped around the vomit and followed Laura into the house.

"Better than a bulimic boyfriend," Laura replied, setting the cat down on a plush leather sofa. The cat bounded away, scuttling to hide beneath the furniture. "Take a seat." She gestured towards the sofa.

Keller frowned. "I'm not going to sit in any cat vomit, am I?"

She laughed. "No. Sit down, Keller, I'm not going to bite you. Izzy told me what happened, so you don't have to fill me in on the details. Got the GPS unit they gave you?" Her eyes glittered and Keller was reminded again of piranhas and rare steak dinners.

"Yeah." He handed her the box and she sat down on her plush white rug, taking the unit out of its cardboard box and connecting it to a laptop. "Isn't that a little..." he gestured vaguely, "I mean, great hackers don't just lounge around on rugs with laptops, do they?"

Laura looked at him in amusement. "You don't know much about hackers, Keller. Who says this is my whole operation?" She turned her attention back to the computer and the GPS. "So. I got you your information."

Keller leaned forward. "And?"

"You need to go deep into the park," she began. "Off the beaten track, literally and figuratively."

"Any idea who has Beecher?" Keller watched raptly as her fingers danced over the keys of the laptop, scrolls of code gliding across the screen.

"Yeah, that was the easiest thing to find out. I know the cops have suspicions and ideas, but it's your old Aryan buddies from Oz."

"Motherfucker! Schillinger?"

"Yep." Laura tapped the laptop's enter key several times. "Plus some of his buddies, who weren't in Oz but are in the Brotherhood."

"Fucking terrific." Keller closed his eyes. "Beecher could already be dead." He fought down the feeling of dread that rose as he said the words.

Laura sat up and stared at him, her eyes hard. "He's not, Keller. Pay attention." She snapped her fingers at him. "They want him alive, because they want both of you. You better be well armed," she added as he stared at her in surprise, "because word I'm getting is they're armed like a bunch of Navy Seals."

"Fuck," Keller groaned. "This is... god, how am I going to get him out of there and get us out of this alive?"

"Carefully," Laura advised. "I'm programming the GPS with the likely area he's in and ways to get to it. Study it carefully before you go tearing in there like a bat out of hell. The GPS you can carry with your cell phone. Don't you love technology?"

"No," Keller answered truthfully.

"Well, I do. Helps keep me in the lifestyle to which I've become accustomed." Laura laughed. "Relax, Keller. They know you're coming, but they don't know when and they don't know from which direction. Think about that while I fix this up." She turned back to the computer.

"Why do you keep pretending this sheep and goat farm thing is real?" Keller asked, gesturing vaguely at the whole of Laura's estate. He didn't really care, but his nerves were beginning to stretch tight and he was feeling the urge to go, go, go, get Beecher, get him somewhere safe, and then make sure Beecher never left him again.

"Because I like sheep and goats," was the calm reply. "Plus, it's good trade with the Sugarloaf Winery and I'm real fond of wine."

Keller shook his head. "You women are crazy, the lot of you."

"In general, or just those of us who choose a life of crime?"

"I'll get back to you on that." Keller sighed. "This is going to be fucked."

"Won't be a cakewalk, that's for sure," Laura agreed. "Now. You won't be able to drive all the way, so I'd advise you to park somewhere reasonably secure then go hiking. Take lots of water. You got Vicodin or anything in case Beecher needs it?"

Keller blinked. "I hadn't thought about that," he confessed.

"In the kitchen," Laura pointed to the chrome and black kitchen behind them. "Sideboard by the refrigerator. Take the whole bottle. Water's in the fridge."

"Thanks, Laura," Keller got off the sofa and went into the kitchen, taking the small bottle of Vicodin and several bottles of water from the fridge.

"Don't mention it." She smiled and disconnected the GPS from the laptop. "Right, let's get this into your car and then I'll show you how to take it out so you can use it in the park."

Keller paid close attention to Laura's instructions, nodding as she explained how the small piece of hardware worked and how to get the most out of it. When she'd finished, she stepped back and gazed at him inscrutably.

"I've got cash," he began, but she waved him off.

"Don't worry about it. Favour from you is better than money."

Keller shook his head. "Dealing with women is a lot more complicated than dealing with men in this business."

"That's because we're more devious," Laura said sagely. "Now get out of here. Your lover needs you."

Keller didn't argue with that. He waved to her as he drove away and she waved back. He noted absently that the vomiting orange cat was back in her arms.

*~*~*

It was only a twenty-minute drive to Rock Creek Park. Once inside the boundary, huge trees looming over him no matter what direction he looked, Keller began to truly appreciate the enormity of the job in front of him. Even if he hadn't been given the task of finding Toby by the people in power – and he had no doubt that it was the Beecher family that had made that possible rather than any belief the police had in him – it was enormous.

He found a place to park near a National Park Service workman's building and hefted the bag containing the gun Alex had given him, which also contained the bottles of water. Taking a deep breath, Keller locked up his car and started towards the large board with a map of the park on it with walking trails indicated in bright red paint. He shifted the GPS in the pocket of his jacket as he looked at the map board and then picked a path that headed northwards, in the general direction he wanted to go.

He'd been walking for barely five minutes before he felt as if he were the only man on Earth. He could hear the sound of birds in the trees, see the dappled light that shone through their huge branches. There was plenty of shade and the grass on either side of the hiking trail was long and a rich, healthy green. Everywhere around him were signs of life and nature; at any other time, Keller would have enjoyed himself.

Now that he had taken care of business and was actually here, setting out into one of the more dangerous parts of the murder capital of the US, Keller's paranoia began to kick in. What if he couldn't find Beecher? What if Laura and her sources were wrong? What if the gun Alex had given him misfired? What if the GPS broke? A legion of 'what if's' marched merrily through his head, determined to worry him and make him jumpy.

"This isn't going to be a cakewalk." Laura's words rattled through Keller's mind as he paused to take a drink. She had been right about that – he'd been hiking deeper into the park and there was absolutely no sign of human life whatsoever. This vast, primeval forest predated humanity, he was sure of it. The huge trunks of enormous trees loomed over him, their branches seeming to reach for the sky, their leaves brushing against the clouds. As he drank, he pulled the GPS out of his pocket and looked at it.

The screen indicated that he still had a good four or five miles of hiking ahead of him before he reached the edge of the area where Laura had told him Beecher was being kept. And even then, when he got there, he'd need to rest and regroup. It would do neither him nor Beecher any good if he showed up as the hero of the day only to pass out from exhaustion.

Keller laughed at himself, a brittle sound. "Toby," he muttered, shouldering the duffle, "how the fuck do you go through life attracting the worst shit that a man can get into? If it's a gift, fucking send it back and ask for a refund."

By the time night started to fall, Keller had reached the area that Laura had marked for him, and he was tired, his muscles screaming at him to stop. He wasn't so exhausted that he didn't realise that he'd brought no tent to sleep in, though; finding a National Park Service storage and supply shed close by, he broke into it – god, he better not get done for that – and tried to get his worry for Toby out of his mind long enough to get to sleep. Laura didn't help that by calling him just as he was drifting off to tell him that Toby was going to be moved the next afternoon, but after he ended the call, he felt more relaxed, more able to focus on the most important thing: getting Toby out and away to safety.

*~*~*

The wan late fall sunlight shone through the trees as Keller lay on his stomach in dew-drenched grass, staring at what once might have been a rather cosy little cabin. Now, it was a rundown, dilapidated building, with half the roof missing and windows which were covered with dust and dirt. It was hidden from view by trees and grass, and apart from the path crushed into that grass from someone's feet, there was no sign that anyone had used it in years.

Keller absently scratched his stomach, damp cotton chafing against his skin. He had woken before dawn and started hiking and it was only by accident that he had stumbled on this small clearing with the abandoned building set at the edge of it. He had been on the verge of walking brazenly towards the door that seemed to hang precariously on rickety hinges when it had opened and one of Schillinger's Aryan buddies had walked out, lighting up a cigarette.

Keller had immediately dropped to the ground, swearing quietly as he felt the cold, dampness of dew soak through his clothes. He was not cut out for this boy scout crap. As soon as fucking possible, he was going somewhere with hot, running water and a big, comfortable bed. And Toby was going to pay for it with his platinum VISA card.

The gun was warm, lethal steel in his hand as Keller slowly moved forward, still on his stomach, eyes and ears alert. The Aryan had gone back into the cabin once he'd finished his cigarette, his presence a tell-tale sign that the place was being used for something. Quietly, Keller worked his way around the tree line until he was at the back of the building, the trees and grass at his back. Slowly, he got to his knees and peeked through the grimy window.

Three Aryans, and Keller didn't recognise any of them. He did, however, recognise the way they moved, the way they held themselves. Classic Schillinger. These men had obviously learned at the feet of their Aryan master and Keller stomped firmly down on the rage within him that wanted so desperately to break free.

Finally, finally, Keller allowed himself to look at Toby.

Beecher was tied hand and foot to a chair, and his head lolled against his shoulder. There was a large bruise against his temple and the crusty red of dried blood on his face. There were signs of a struggle, broken glass on the floor and stains that looked like more blood. Keller wasn't sure if Toby was conscious or not.

Even as he watched, one of the Aryans stepped forward and tugged Toby's head back by the convenient handle of his hair. Toby grunted, and the Aryans laughed. "Whad'ya know, boys, looks like he's awake. Open wide, Beecher. Heard you got a real good cocksucking mouth on you."

Another of them laughed. "Better be quick. If the ransom don't come through soon, Schillinger wants him moved today."

"Schillinger worries too much," said the first.

"Yeah, well, he was in Oz with these two fuckers." The second man shook his head and spat on the floor. "He knows we have to keep moving this piece of shit until they send in Killer Keller with the money and then we take 'em both out."

"Yeah, yeah, all right." The first grumbled. "I still want this cocksucker to know the last dick he sucked belonged to the men who're gonna kill him and his boyfriend."

Keller saw red.

The first shot took the nearest Aryan in the thigh and he went down, squealing like a pig. Despite his almost-blinding anger, Keller did not want to kill them – well, that wasn't entirely true. He wanted to kill them a whole fuck of a lot, but he didn't want to jeopardise Toby or himself by doing so. His self-preservation and survival instincts were already in overdrive, and he was not going back to Oz. Instead, with cold calculation, he fired several shots, the Aryan on the floor screaming louder as two more bullets lodged in his side and his shoulder. The second Aryan took two bullets, one in his right arm, the other in his left hip.

The third, seeing his comrades go down from a mysterious and seemingly invisible gunman, grabbed an Uzi 9mm from the shadows and fired.

Keller dived for the ground, dodging splinters and shards of glass as the Aryan, yelling incoherently, fired round after round into the building. Moving quickly, Keller crouched low, a gun in each hand as he made his way to the door.

The Aryan with the Uzi had his back to him when Keller kicked the door in and fired. He went down with a scream, dropping the Uzi and clutching his buttocks as Keller shot several bullets into the man's ass.

"Motherfuckers," Keller yelled, and with the Beretta out of bullets, he shoved it back into the waistband of his jeans and gripped the Glock as he made his way over to Toby. "Toby...oh god, baby, Toby. Talk to me, you fucker!"

Beecher looked at him, his head seeming to jerk like a puppet on a string. His eyes were glazed with pain and now that Keller was close to him, he could see that there was more going on than just a simple physical beating. "Chris?"

"Yeah." Keller picked up a piece of glass and used it to cut the rope binding Toby. "C'mon now, baby, you gotta stand up. Help me help you, okay?"

"Okay," Beecher replied in a slurred voice. "I knew you'd come for me," he added as Keller helped him up. "Knew you wouldn't let me down."

"Yeah, I'm a regular all American hero," Keller muttered. "Come on, you fucker, move!"

One eye on the thrashing Aryans screaming in pain, Keller, gun in one hand, the other holding Beecher against him, made his way towards the door. He helped Beecher out of the cabin and up into the forest, half dragging him towards thick underbrush. Eventually, he stopped, chest heaving from exertion and adrenaline.

"You okay? Toby, come on. Talk to me."

Beecher pulled a face. "Head hurts," he whined.

"Yeah. Drink this." Keller pulled a bottle of water from the duffle, amazed that he seemed to be able to juggle bottle, gun and Beecher.

Beecher drank, making greedy noises, and drained the bottle completely.

"Better?"

"Yeah. Chris?"

"What?"

"I knew you'd come."

"So you said," Keller began, but then he swore. Beecher had passed out.

"Well, fuck!"

Part Two

Beecher: Chris. At last. Give me a kiss.
Keller: You're drunk.
Beecher: You bet your ass I am. Did you miss me? Christ, I missed you. Come on, let's fuck.

Things had happened entirely too fast for Chris to keep track of everything that was going on. The short, sharp spurt of violence had not been enough to satisfy his rage, but he clamped down on his desire to go back and finish the motherfuckers off. Self-preservation and the protection of Toby came first. He gently laid Toby down on the grass, making sure his head was elevated then reloaded the Beretta and the Glock. Then he checked the GPS to find the shortest route back to his car. Finally, he called Laura.

"Good news?"

"Not exactly. Can you call the cops and tell them where this location is?" Before she could interrupt, Chris rushed on. "Toby's okay. I've got him and I'll take care of him. Tell 'em I'll be in touch. But those fuckers are still down there and they need to be taken in."

"Are they dead?" Laura's voice was professionally calm.

"No, but I bet they wish they were." Chris laughed humourlessly. "If that's the best Schillinger's got, he's less than a fucking joke. Anyway. Next thing I need is that place you told me about. Somewhere quiet and safe. Preferably near a town where I can get supplies."

Laura sighed. "You owe me big for this," she growled. "I'm sending the coordinates to the GPS. Connect it back to the car like I showed you and follow the directions."

"Thanks."

"Go. I'll call the cops."

Chris hung up and regarded the unconscious form on the grass. "Fucking great," he muttered, muscles straining as he bent and hefted Toby in his arms in a firefighter's carry. "You weigh a fucking ton, Toby. Too much of the good life."

Every instinct was screaming at him to run, to get out of the area as fast as possible and Chris didn't waste any time. As quickly as he could, he made his way out of the park and to his car.

The trip back to the car, while shorter now he had a direct route to follow mapped out on the GPS, seemed to take forever. The previous day, he had been doing little more than floundering around, looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack. Now he had Toby, boneless and heavy in his arms, time seemed to slow to a crawl. Chris felt like he was moving through molasses, sweat covering him as he carried Toby's dead weight through rough landscape in the direction of the relative safety of his Mustang. Chris would not begin to feel truly safe until they were in the safety of the car and driving, as far away from Rock Creek Park as he could get.

It was well after midday when Chris and his semi-conscious companion crested a hill and saw a path leading towards the parking lot. "Thank Christ," Chris muttered as Toby leaned heavily against him. "Nearly there, baby, okay?"

"Okay," Toby answered, his voice a dry rasp.

Chris shot him a quick look and shook his head. He couldn't do anything until they were in the car and so he gritted his teeth, picked Toby up again in that firefighter's carry and lugged him to the Mustang.

Chris was panting when he set Toby down by the car and Toby leaned against the steel, shaking hard. He was flushed and his face was covered with a thin sheen of sweat. His eyes were glassy but he seemed lucid.

"Tell me what hurts," Chris said gently as he opened the car door and gently pushed Toby inside.

"Head," was the soft reply.

"Okay. There's water in the glove compartment and a bottle of Vicodin."

Chris shut the door and went around to the driver's side, unlocking the door and leaning over to get Toby the water and pills. Toby blinked wearily but took the Vicodin Chris handed him, swallowing down half the bottle of water along with it. As Chris started the car, he shot his companion a worried look.

"We're stopping on the way to make sure nothing's permanently damaged," he said.

Toby grunted. "I'll be fine."

"Yeah, well, I wanna make sure."

"Yes, Mom."

Chris grinned. "Rest, baby. I'll wake you when we get to a medical center." He connected the ever-helpful GPS to the car and looked at the route Laura had programmed in and where they were going to end up. Their destination appeared to be what looked like a small private estate in McKay Beach, some two hours drive from Rock Creek Park. Not counting stops for medical treatment and supplies, of course.

Toby had settled into the seat and his eyes were closed. His breathing was even and his colour was slowly getting better. Chris nodded to himself, pulled out of the lot and drove down the road that would lead to the highway. Turning onto the main thoroughfare, he was gratified to see several police cars, sirens blazing, tearing towards the gate to the park. Laura had come through for him again.

*~*~*

"He'll be fine," said the resident doctor. "A slight concussion, but nothing that a few days bed rest won't fix. He's got some cuts and bruises and a few strained muscles, so make sure he doesn't get cold and he'll be all right."

Chris nodded his thanks, grinning as Toby scowled, petulant at having been manhandled -- despite his protests -- into the small medical clinic just outside of DC's center.

"So I can go now?"

"Yes," the doctor said with a slight smile, "you can go."

"Good. Coming, Chris?"

Chris rolled his eyes but followed Toby back out to the car. "You're such a demanding, pushy bitch," he said as he opened the door for his companion.

"Shut up, Sister Christopher."

Chris stuck his tongue out in reply.

"Oh that's really mature." Toby got comfortable in the passenger seat and locked the door. Once Chris was in the car with him, the joking facade slipped away and wide, pale blue eyes locked on Chris' darker blue ones. "Thank you," he said softly. "I was...fuck. I don't even know what I was. I thought this was going to be it, y'know?" He shook his head, and winced. "Ow. Fucking headache. Anyway, I really thought that this time that fucker was finally going to get me. And you too, from what those pricks were saying."

Chris reached over, gently brushing the soft blond hair that curled at the nape of Toby's neck with the tips of his fingers. "Toby," he said firmly, "I've got more lives than a cat. Remind me to tell you 'bout a friend's bulimic cat later. Anyway, point bein', Schillinger ain't gonna get me, and I sure as shit ain't gonna put myself in a position to be tossed back in Oz. I was going to come get you outta there as soon as I heard. I just got...given some official leeway to do it before I had the chance to actually head to Rock Creek."

Toby nodded slowly. Chris had filled him in when he'd been awake during the drive. "So, where are we going now?"

"McKay Beach. Friend lent me her summer house type thing."

"Okay." Toby closed his eyes, head resting back on the seat's head-rest. He reached over to take Chris' hand in his own. "I trust you."

Chris had to swallow hard several times against the lump in his throat at those simple words. It felt like an eternity since he'd heard Toby say something like that to him. "I got you, baby," he said finally, as he started the car.

Toby smiled. "I know." There was a pause and his brow furrowed into a confused frown. "So what's this about a bulimic cat?"

Chris started to laugh as he pulled out of the medical center's parking lot and started to drive towards the summer house belonging to Laura in McKay Beach. "Friend of mine, she has a sheep and goat farm. Does pretty well. She tends to collect animals, likes to farm, that sort of stuff. Her cat vomits when he gets scared, which is a lot, she says."

Toby snorted a laugh. "Okay. I never thought of a scared cat showing fear by throwing up. You known her long?"

"The cat's a guy," Chris deadpanned and was rewarded with a squeeze of his hand and a laugh.

"Asshole. I meant your friend." But Toby was slowly rubbing his thumb over the back of Chris' hand and seemed quite intent on not letting go for the foreseeable future.

"Yeah. She's a hacker. A good one, too. Helped me out with some stuff so I could get you outta there. Like with this GPS thing."

"I thought that was a bit flashy for you." Toby smiled, his eyes closed. "I'm glad you came for me, Chris. I was getting...I was thinking..."

"You think too much." Chris' voice was sharp. "You know me, Tobe. You an' me forever. No matter how much you piss me off or how much I piss you off. Don't mean I love you any less."

Toby nodded. "I still love you, Chris."

Chris nodded, swallowing again. "Me too. Now get some sleep."

"Yes, Mom," Toby teased, but he let out a long, slow sigh and out of the corner of his eye, Chris could see that his lover was finally beginning to relax and allow himself to really rest for the first time since they had left Rock Creek Park.

Chris was relieved that Toby remained asleep when he stopped at a gas station to fill up the car and buy some supplies. He had no doubt that Laura's place would be well stocked with foodstuffs and the like, but some things Chris wanted to make sure he got for himself. Cigarette between his lips as he paid for his purchases with crumpled bills, he shook his head. He was going to be paying back Laura, Alex and Izzy for the rest of eternity, the way he was chalking up favours.

Back in the car and driving, Toby stirred slightly, nose wrinkling. "Are you smoking?"

"That's what people usually do with cigarettes, yeah," Chris answered.

"I thought you quit."

"There's a lot of things you thought that ain't true." Chris' voice was tight.

Toby sighed. "Do we have to do this now?"

"No." Chris sighed. "Sorry, Beech. I'm just...there's a lot on my mind, y'know?"

Toby wisely changed the subject. "So, when we get to this mysterious beach house, will there be a phone there so I can call my family and let them know I'm okay?"

"Should be." Chris's gaze flicked from the road to the GPS. "I never been down this way."

"I have." Toby smiled. "It's nice. There's a wild horse sanctuary not far away. Lots of fishing around here, too. We could get you some fishing tackle and a hat and you could fish for our supper."

"Do I look like a fucking fisherman?" Chris snorted. "'sides," he added slyly, "my tackle's pretty good as it is."

"I've never had any complaints," Toby agreed calmly.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." Toby smirked at Chris and Chris laughed.

"I think it's the Vicodin talking, Toby. We'll see how things are when you're feeling better."

Toby pouted. "You're no fun."

"I'm loads of fun and that right there proves I'm right. You're pouting, Tobe."

Toby blinked and then looked horrified. "Oh god, I am! Fuck!"

"Just don't go all crazy Beecher on me, okay? No more rhymes." Chris' attention was diverted by the road and he slowed down, following the directions on the GPS until they came to a stop at the end of a cul-de-sac, facing an imposing solid steel gate flanked by thick, high grey stone walls.

"This it?" Toby asked.

"Yeah. Hang on." Chris pulled his cell out of his pocket and dialled Laura's number.

"Now what?" she sounded annoyed.

"Well, excuse me, lady, but you did offer your place and it'd be fucking great if you could, oh, I don't know, tell me how to get through the fucking gate."

"Oh." Laura sounded sheepish. "Sorry, I forgot. Too many things going on at the same time. There's a security system installed. The entry code is 236142. That'll get you through the gates. To get into the house, it's the same numbers backwards."

Chris repeated the numbers back to her and then asked, "Any trouble from the cops?"

"No, but your parole officer's pissed. He thinks you've overstepped the line. The DA didn't seem to agree with him, but you know how POs can be. Might be wise to watch yourself."

"How d'you know all this?"

"I have eyes and ears everywhere," Laura said smoothly. "Now go away. I've got work to do." She hung up.

Chris rolled his eyes. "I'll be right back," he said to Toby, and got out of the car and went to the gate. A security camera installed at the top of the gatepost seemed to glare down at him balefully as he entered the code and the gates slowly began to swing open. Chris headed back to the car and drove through the gates and down a sloping drive that curved around in front of a huge white stone house. The sea backed the building and there was a small yacht at the side of a private pier.

Toby whistled. "Your friend must be fucking rich!"

"Richer than you?" Chris smirked a little.

Toby frowned. "Well...maybe. I don't know."

Chris started to laugh.

"What?" Toby was annoyed.

"You don't like not being the only rich person I know, huh?" Chris felt smug. "Sorry to disappoint you baby, but I know more people than you think I do."

"I'm getting that idea," Toby muttered as Chris parked the car in front of the house.

"Well, c'mon then," Chris said. "Let's go inside."

The interior of the house was painted in white, red and black. Priceless unique pieces of art decorated the rooms, the dining room chairs immediately drawing Chris' attention due to the fact they were carved to resemble seated skeletons.

"Your friend is creepy," Toby muttered.

"You're just saying that because she's got more money than you."

Toby scowled. "Where's the phone?"

Chris pointed at a mahogany table beside the white leather sofa. "I'd say that thing shaped like a phone would be it."

"Fuck you."

"Toby, c'mon." Chris sighed. "Does it really matter how much money my friend has? Don't matter to me how much money you have – I love you for you, always have, always will."

Toby's expression grew sad. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I just...I guess I'm still not feeling too good."

Chris nodded. "Okay. I'll give you some space while you make your calls." He wandered into the kitchen and made some pretence at checking it out while Toby used the phone. He could hear Toby's voice growing louder and more annoyed, talking to, Chris guessed, his mother. As Toby's volume increased, Chris could hear things like, 'I'm fine,' and 'Yes, I'm sure,' and 'Yes, I do trust him, now drop it.'

There was a few minutes of silence and then Chris heard Toby speaking again, this time with a calm, authoritative tone. It took only a moment to realise that Toby was speaking to the DA. Chris held his breath as he listened to Toby's side of the conversation, and when he heard the distinctive click of the receiver being dropped noisily into the cradle, he steeled himself and walked back into the living room.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah." Toby nodded. He was standing by the table as if he wasn't quite sure what to do next. "Mother's not too happy about me being alone with you, but then she never is. The DA feels it's best that I stay here with you until everything has been taken care of. Apparently," Toby licked his lips, wrapping his arms around himself, "one of those assholes got away."

Chris growled. "Fuck!"

"So, um, this place, how secure is it?"

Chris moved to Toby and cautiously laid a hand on the other man's shoulder. "Very. Knowing Laura, she probably monitors the security cameras here at her other place. If anything happens, she'll know about it and take steps. Plus, I've got guns, and I'm fairly sure I could find Laura's stash here if I needed to."

Toby nodded. "Okay."

"You should get some rest," Chris said awkwardly, wanting to wrap his arms around Toby and pull him close, hold him.

"That might be a good idea."

"Okay, come on." Chris gently guided Toby through the open-plan living area towards the bedrooms. The second door he tried led to a large room that obviously wasn't the main bedroom but was a very plush guestroom. The bed was huge and the large glass doors that made up the opposite wall opened onto a small deck that looked out over the sea. The sound of waves crashing on the beach was a soft noise, gently lulling, soothing. "Here. There's a bathroom through there," he pointed towards another door through which he had glimpsed a bathtub.

Toby nodded again. "Okay."

"Tobe..." Chris stopped, not quite knowing what to say. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I guess." Toby smiled slightly. "I mean, we've been through worse, haven't we? And it's not like I've never sucked cock to save myself from something worse, is it?" He lightly touched Chris's hand as Chris' thoughts grew murderous and obviously showed on his face. "It's okay. Like I said, it's not anything new."

"Did they do anything else to you?" Chris' voice came out as an angry hiss.

"Apart from hit me, make me suck their dicks and tie me up? Not that I remember, no. I was out of it for a bit, but I don't feel like I've been fucked. I guess Schillinger told 'em that I was his prag, so they didn't want to push it."

"I'm going to kill him," Chris said softly. "Slowly. I might just cut off his dick and feed it to him."

Toby's eyes had come alight with that same murderous glint, a look that Chris recognised. No matter how long they were out of Oz, there were some things that were learned there that never went away. And that need to punish with violence, ugly and dreadful, was one of them. "Do I get to watch?"

"Baby, you get to do whatever you want."

Toby's smile was slightly feral now. "Good."

With amazing restraint, considering how angry he was and how much he wanted to comfort Toby, Chris slowly stepped back. "You take a shower. I'll get you some Vicodin and leave it by the bed for you. Then you sleep, okay?"

Toby's smile faltered a little and then he nodded. "Okay, Chris." He let his hand trail down Chris' own, a soft sigh of longing coming from him, echoed by Chris' sharp intake of breath.

I have to move right the fuck now, or else this is going to get hot way too fast and fuck, I want him, but not right after all that shit, don't want to push him, don't want him to regret it... Chris regretfully pulled back. "Wash up, Beech." Then he fled.

By the time Chris felt he had sufficiently gained control over his roiling emotions and desires to return to the bedroom with a glass of water and some Vicodin, Toby was out of the shower and asleep in the bed. Chris placed the glass and pills on the bedside table and paused, gazing down at the sleeping man. Gently, he ran his hands through damp blond curls, sighing softly as he thought of other times, other places, when they had so little time and each touch, each look, was precious. He clamped down on the sudden urge to strip off and get into bed with Toby and forced himself out of the room and back down to the living room.

With a sigh, he flopped down onto the sofa and closed his eyes. It was late, and he'd been running short on sleep and high on adrenaline all day. Suddenly, he felt exhausted. Five minutes, he thought to himself, getting comfortable on the sofa. Five minutes, then get up and make sure everything is secure and no one can get in without being caught. He closed his eyes and let out a long, slow sigh, feeling himself drift.

*~*~*

Chris woke to the bright light of mid-morning sun shining into his face. He groaned, got up and looked at the clock. It was well after ten in the morning, and he'd slept all night on the sofa. He went to brush his teeth and piss, then checked in on Toby. He was still asleep, but the Vicodin were gone, so Chris knew that Toby had taken them during the night. He quietly left the room, and went back into the living room, stopping in the kitchen briefly to grab himself an apple.

Feeling antsy, Chris paced back and forth for several minutes, then reached over and grabbed the phone, sprawling on the sofa. He dialled Laura's number and when she answered, he sighed.

"Chris?" She sounded surprised. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Chris grunted. "Just wanted to make sure the cops were okay with you."

"They were fine," she reassured him. "Bit pissed at not hearing from you, until I explained the circumstances."

"They didn't get all of those fuckers," Chris ground out. He told himself to focus on the anger. The anger sustained him and kept him from giving into his need to feel Toby against him.

"What?" Laura's voice was sharp. "Are you sure?"

"That's what the DA told Toby. She felt it was the best thing he stay with me here until they had all those fuckers in custody."

"Well, fuck," Laura swore. "Okay, I'll see what I can dig up for you."

"Thanks, appreciate it." Chris paused, then shrugged. "Why are you helping so much, Laura? Not that I'm not grateful, because fuck knows I am, but..."

"It's out of character?" She laughed softly. "Beecher's father helped my sister once. So there's gratitude there. Plus, you and me, we're old friends. Friends should help their friends, right?"

Chris smiled sadly. "Yeah. Would Toby know you?"

"Doubt it." Laura's voice was calm. "I only dealt with his father, not with him."

"Okay." They talked a little more, Laura telling Chris where she kept things like clean sheets, towels, bathroom supplies and, at his request, her guns.

"I told Toby you were probably able to monitor security here from where you are now," Chris said then.

"Yep."

"So you'll know if we get any visitors?"

"This your round-a-bout way of saying if you and Beecher are fucking and miss it, will I catch it? The answer is yes, Keller." Laura's voice was amused. "Don't stress it too much. My people are watching and so am I. And the cops. Just be grateful they can't see into the bedrooms."

Chris laughed. "That shit doesn't bother me."

"Might bother Beecher a bit, though. Don't worry, we got it covered. Alex and Izzy are taking care of digging up information about the Brotherhood and its goings on here in DC. I'll email you. You do know how to use email, right?"

Chris rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I think I can manage that much."

"Awesome. Otherwise I'm sure Beecher could teach you." Chris didn't mention that it was actually Beecher who had. "Anyway, I'm sure you've checked the place out," Laura continued, "so you know where the home PC is. Use that one. You won't be able to access beyond the welcome screen of any of the others, anyway."

"Thanks, Laura." Chris smiled. "You're a good chick."

"I try. Why don't you get some rest, Chris?" Her voice was now tinged with concern. "Or a shower or something. You probably smell all foresty. Which is probably really sexy on you, but I'm not there right now."

"Laura!" Chris was momentarily stunned but then he laughed heartily. "You makin' a pass at me, darlin'?"

"Nah. In another life, sure. This one? No point, is there – you've only got eyes for Beecher, and he for you. Take care of yourself then take care of him. And tell him when this is all over he's taking you, me, Alex and Izzy somewhere really expensive for dinner."

Chris chuckled, imagining how Toby would react to that. "I'll pass that on."

"Great. I've got to go – duty calls."

"Okay, Laura. Thanks again."

"Don't mention it. Bye." She hung up.

Chris leaned back against the comfortable sofa and allowed himself to slowly relax. After several moments, he stood with a grunt and stretched, then decided Laura was right. A shower would definitely help relax him and with the high security surrounding the house, there wasn't anything immediate to worry about.

The master bathroom was huge and Chris whistled quietly. He was fairly sure an entire family could fit into the bathtub alone. The huge shower had twin showerheads and looked like heaven, and Chris quickly stripped and stepped into the large cubicle, turning on the faucets and letting out a soft moan of pure pleasure as twin jets of warm water hit his body.

"Oh, yeah, I could get used to this," he muttered to himself as he closed his eyes and stretched luxuriously beneath the water. He turned, reaching for the soap, and started to lather himself up, humming.

As Chris turned again, a hand on his cock, lazily stroking, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure, he caught sight of a familiar blond head in the doorway and jumped, letting out an undignified squawk.

"Beecher, what the fuck?"

Toby blushed then stared defiantly at Chris. "What? I can't watch you now? You never used to have a problem with that before."

"Yeah," Chris growled, "before. You left me, Beecher, you! You wanted out of this...this whatever the fuck it was, is. So don't go thinking you can just worm your way back into my bed whenever you want!"

Toby glared at Chris, his expression growing angry. "Really? You never stopped me before. Why would you now? You don't want me anymore?"

"Toby..." Chris sighed. "You know I do. But not like this. I don't want a pity fuck from you."

Anger changed to incredulity. "You think that's what this is? Thanks for saving my ass, Keller, now please fuck me? You fucking idiot!" As he spoke, Toby peeled off the t-shirt and sweat pants he was wearing, and moved to the shower. "Did it ever occur to you that I might still want you? That I might still love you? That I was wrong, yeah, there, I said it. I was wrong, Chris Keller, and I fucking love you!"

Chris rubbed his face with both hands. "Beech..."

"Oh, shut up for once," Toby muttered, stepping in to join Chris beneath the water. "Just accept my apology and kiss me."

"You call that an apology?" Chris stared at him.

"We do this dance all the fucking time." Toby's hands came to rest on Chris' chest, a light pressure that Chris felt like a sizzling burn against his skin. "We fuck, we kiss, we love. Then something happens and we fight, we overreact, we each try to hurt the other the most. Then something else happens and one of us helps the other and we go back to the beginning again. I'm tired of doing all that shit, Chris. Can't we just stick with the fucking, kissing and loving? Can't we just be together and take care of each other because we can and because we want to?"

Chris shook his head. "I can't believe you actually came to this conclusion, Beecher."

"I had time to think in that shack," Toby said softly, then, noticing the reflexive clenching of Chris' fists, he smiled. "You do still care, don't you?"

"You know I do, you ass." Chris rolled his eyes. "But you've still got injuries and I know you're not feeling a hundred percent yourself yet, so...god. I can't fucking believe I'm saying this. Just wait, okay? I want you to be completely okay, okay?"

Toby blinked and then looked down, flushing again. "Okay."

"Hey." Chris touched Toby's chin with his index finger, gently tilting Toby's face up. "Don't take it as a rejection. Don't over think it. Just relax, get better, and then..." He smiled.

For a moment, Chris thought Toby wasn't going to react. But then Toby leaned forward and gently, softly, kissed Chris on the lips, the tip of his tongue ever so lightly tracing Chris' lower lip. Then he stepped back and nodded. "Okay."

As Toby left the bathroom, closing the door with a soft click, Chris leaned back against the shower wall and groaned. "Oh fuck, Tobe, what you do to me..." He was achingly horny now, his cock hard and leaking, and he stroked himself hard and fast, whimpering Toby's name as he came.

*~*~*

Dressed in ripped, faded blue jeans and a tight, white wife beater, Chris padded barefoot into the sumptuous living room to find Toby sprawled on the sofa with the remote control, flipping through the channels on the television.

"Anything good on?" Chris asked as he sat on the other side of the sofa.

Toby spared him a quick look, licking his lips almost unconsciously as he took in the way Chris was dressed. "Not really," he said. "A lot of crap." He turned the volume of the TV down and then turned in his seat to face Chris. "I've been thinking..."

"Here we go," Chris muttered.

"Shut up. One of those fuckers got away. We know what that means, don't we?" Toby was holding one of Laura's throw pillows to his chest now, his expression worried. "Schillinger will know that his plan didn't work and he'll try something else."

"I've got people looking into it," Chris said seriously. "The police are on the case as well. He won't get you, Tobe, I promise."

Toby nodded, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth. He appeared very young and very vulnerable all of a sudden and Chris was reminded of another time when Toby had worried and fretted, and how he had been unable to reassure him until lights out. Then, Toby, shivering in his need, had slid into Chris' bunk and clung to him, shaking and sniffling as he tried to hold back tears, and Chris had held him, stroked his hair and kissed him, soothing him with touch and caress.

Now, Chris reached over and laid a hand on Toby's knee. "I talked to Laura, she's digging into things. She said she'd send an email." He smiled. "You can help me work her fucking computer."

Toby chuckled. "All right. Do you really think it'll be okay?"

"Yeah." Chris nodded. "If they find us, then I'm not gonna let 'em do anything to you. I promise you that. And if Laura and her people find 'em before they find us, well. We'll hear about it on the late news."

Toby considered that. "You know this woman well?"

"About as well as one con can know another." Chris laughed. "I know, that's not much of an answer. But she's cool. She knows your dad," and he grinned at Toby's surprised expression. "Apparently your pop helped her sister. 'sides, she and Alex and Izzy have decided that when this is over, you're taking us all out to dinner and paying for it."

Toby did laugh then, shaking his head. "I feel like I've been conned without actually being involved."

"Welcome to the modern world, baby." Chris rubbed Toby's knee.

"I'm sorry about before," Toby said, looking down. As Chris started to cut him off, he shook his head. "Let me finish, Chris."

"Okay. Sorry. Go on."

"Okay. Before. When we had that fight. You were right. I was just making excuses. I thought I wanted to get you out of my life, but I was wrong. God, I was so fucking wrong!" He ran a hand through his hair. "Fuck. You keep me sane, weird as it is. I can't cope with life without you in it. I'm not just saying this out of gratitude or anything, either, so don't even think that. I've known it for ages. I've just been...too proud to admit I was wrong."

"You do that a lot, y'know," Chris said, amazed at how calm he sounded.

"So do you!" Toby shot back.

"Yeah, we're both stubborn bastards," Chris agreed. "I missed you, Tobe. So much." As Toby leaned towards him, Chris gently pushed him back. "Get well first, okay?"

Toby shot a meaningful look towards Chris' crotch. "You sure you can keep up your noble intentions?"

"I got a hand if I need it." Chris smirked.

"I always did love watching you jerk off," Toby sighed, his eyes glinting with humour and arousal. "The way you'd buck into your own hand, your dick so fucking hard..."

"Fuck...you little cocktease," Chris growled. "C'mon. You can help with the computer." He stood up quickly, needing to adjust his jeans. He looked at Toby and rolled his eyes at the self-satisfied smirk on Toby's face.

"You know I'm not a cocktease, Chris," Toby purred. "If you weren't being noble right now, I'd have your jeans open and your cock in my mouth. This is all on you, remember."

"And you're never gonna let me forget it, are you – I'm tryin' to do the right thing by you, Beecher!" Chris started towards the rooms at the rear of the house. "I'm tryin' to show you that I love you for more than your body, that I respect you, care about you."

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder then as Toby fell into step just behind him. "I'm sorry," Toby murmured. "I know you're right. I can still feel a bit of a headache and my muscles hurt...and I'd really like to brush my teeth forever, but...I appreciate what you're doing. Just...don't wait too long, okay?"

Chris swallowed hard as he nodded. "I won't." He was relieved as he opened the door that led into a large study. "Computer's there." He pointed.

Toby looked amused. "I can see that. You remember how to use one?"

"Sort of?" Chris wrinkled his nose. "Aw, fuck, Tobe, I'm a mechanic, not a computer geek!"

Toby laughed and moved to sit in front of the computer and turned it on. Chris leaned on the chair, breathing in the soft scent of Toby's hair.

Toby shivered a little, closing his eyes for a moment and Chris could see the two of them reflected back in the darkness of the computer screen. He sighed softly, pressing his cheek to Toby's hair, one hand resting on Toby's shoulder. "Let's do this," he murmured.

"Yeah," Toby agreed, leaning back into Chris' touch, but he didn't turn the monitor on. "All those times...wasn't enough..."

Chris nodded, his other hand sliding around Toby's torso. "I know, baby. We did the best we could with what we had."

A shaky laugh was the reply. "Sneaking kisses and quick fucks was never enough in Oz, Chris. And I fucked it up when you got out."

"I think we're pretty even there," Chris whispered. God, he wanted Toby. He wanted to shove the computer off the table, grab Toby and manhandle him onto it instead and fuck him there, hard and slow, make Toby scream his name as he came. "We fucked with each other's heads nearly as much as..."

"Chris," Toby moaned softly, half turning in the chair. "God, just kiss me already, would you? I'm not gonna break..."

"But I might," Chris whispered without thinking, knowing he was shaking now, feeling terror warring with love, the urge to run from Toby's love and need nearly overwhelming.

"So I'll put you back together." Toby grabbed a handful of Chris' wife beater and tugged. "Chris..."

"Toby..." Drawn forward by blue eyes locked onto his own, Chris closed the small space between them and kissed him.

He'd never been good at this, the relationship thing, loving someone as much as they loved him. Three wives and four marriages proved that point. But then along came Tobias Beecher and Chris' world had turned upside down and inside out. All the time he'd known Toby, he'd felt that stark terror – Toby knew him too well, understood him completely, didn't push him, didn't make demands on him, and made Chris want to be a better man. For Toby, because of him. But as soon as his lips met Toby's all of that lingering fear evaporated, as it always did when he kissed Toby, whether he did it in prison or outside.

Chris sighed softly as Toby's mouth opened to his own, as he felt one of Toby's hands slide up his neck into his hair. He had intended to be gentle, mindful that Toby was still healing and quite likely hoarding his rage at what had happened in that shack, as he'd hoarded everything bad that happened to him in Oz. But Toby was insistent, his mouth hungry, his tongue persistent as he kissed Chris hard, pulling him closer, making soft noises of want into Chris' mouth.

Dazedly, Chris wondered just how long Toby had owned him. Because no matter what happened, no matter how many people Chris killed for Toby, no matter what he did, when Toby called him to heel Chris went. Oh, he'd protest, he'd argue, but it was all for show. Toby had won the game the first time he'd kissed him, in the laundry room when Chris had been drunk on moonshine, when they'd confessed their love for each other. Schillinger be damned, everything in Chris' life from that point revolved around Toby – the pleasure, the pain, the love, the hate, the betrayal, the redemption, the obsession, the possession.

"Chris," Toby whimpered, hands roaming over every part of Chris he could reach. "God yes, please, Chris, more!"

It was with a great deal of difficulty that Chris pulled back, gazing at Toby's kiss-swollen lips, and licking his own, tasting Toby, feeling the lingering burn of want that had erased the fear. "Soon," he answered. "I promise, Tobe."

Toby sighed. "Okay. But I want you to know I'm not fucking happy about this waiting shit. I want you now, Keller."

Chris smirked. "Of course you do."

Toby laughed. "You arrogant son-of-a-bitch."

"'s why you love me, baby."

Toby shook his head, turning back to the computer. "One of the many reasons I love you, yes. Now, don't distract me."

"Distract you?!" Chris cocked an eyebrow. "Not my fault you can't keep your hands off me."

"Shut up," Toby replied, still smiling as he turned his attention back to the computer.

Chris stuck his tongue out at the back of Toby's head, then laughed and moved close, resting his hand on the back of Toby's neck, fingers gently rubbing small circles on pale skin.

"That feels good," Toby said as he quickly accessed the email.

"Good." Chris continued to stroke Toby's skin. He never had been able to stop, and here, in this huge, lush house on the edge of the ocean, the rest of the world locked away from them, he felt truly content for the first time in a long time. "So, I was thinking, when you're better we should fuck in every room in the house. I really want to suck your dick in that kitchen."

Toby's hands clenched reflexively and he shifted in the chair. "That... that's a good idea," he said, and his voice was slightly breathless.

"Also in that shower," Chris continued, grinning wickedly. "Bend you over, eat you out, just fuck you with my tongue 'til you're mad with it and don't even remember your own name."

"Are you trying to fucking kill me?" Toby asked plaintively. "This isn't fucking fair, you fuck!"

"Sorry." Chris laughed. "Back to business then. Any email?"

"Yeah." Toby opened the email and they read the contents together.

"Huh," Chris said after several moments of silence.

"That's all you're going to say?" Toby turned to stare at him incredulously. "Just 'huh'?"

"Beecher, calm down," Chris replied. Toby opened his mouth to say something, and then, much to Chris' surprise, clamped his lips shut. Chris blinked and then continued. "So, Laura's people have found out that Schillinger really is running this op. She got the information to the cops, and we both know how long they'll take to get anything done. And Vern's a sly fucker, he'll try and talk his way out of anything."

"If there's a point you're planning to make, soon would be great," Toby said drily.

Chris gently ran a hand through Toby's soft blond hair. "Baby, if any single one of those fuckers try to get in here, I'm gonna do more than fill their asses with lead."

Toby sighed. "Don't do anything that'll get you sent back to Oz," he said.

"I'll do my best." Chris bent down to kiss Toby's forehead. "But I'm not letting them get to you."

Toby nodded. "Do you think Laura's people can get the rest of the Brotherhood?"

"If anyone can, yeah." Chris nodded. "'sides, have you really looked at the security in this place? It's like Fort fucking Knox."

"And you cracked her gun safe in ten minutes, didn't you." It wasn't a question.

"Well...fifteen. But that's different. The Brotherhood aren't real smart, you know that. Oh sure, Schillinger is, but he's in Oz, and he's only got a limited reach in there. He can issue orders, but his fucks aren't nearly as smart as he is. They'll do things their own way and they'll fuck up."

Toby considered that. Then he nodded decisively and turned back to the computer, shutting the machine down. Standing up, he faced Chris, and placed his hands on Chris' shoulders. "I think you should sleep with me."

Chris' eyebrow shot up again.

"Well, you're supposed to be protecting me, Keller," Toby drawled, "and you need to stick close, don't you?"

"You cheeky fucker." Chris laughed.

"That's why I'm a lawyer." Toby grinned, looping his arms around Chris' neck. "So, will you?"

"You know I will, baby." Chris slid his own arms around Toby's waist and drew him close, savouring the moment. "I gotta ask... what happens after?"

"After?" Toby's voice betrayed his confusion.

"When this shit gets sorted out and we go back into DC. Then what? For us, I mean." Chris was proud of himself for not sounding as needy as he felt.

"I thought we could move in together," Toby said calmly. "Clearly I need to be protected full time."

"So I'm your personal bodyguard now?" Chris was amused.

"That sounds good. You've been my personal bodyguard for years, anyway."

"True." Chris couldn't deny that.

"My bodyguard," Toby went on, "my friend," he kissed Chris' neck, "my podmate," his lips moved up to Chris' jaw, "my lover," he kissed the corner of Chris' lips, "the man I love more than anything." He kissed Chris' lips softly.

Chris' arms tightened around Toby and he pulled him close. "Yeah," he whispered, knowing that Toby would understand that Toby was all of that to Chris and more. "I love you, Toby."

Toby shivered against him. He smiled at Chris. "It's only ever been you for me, Chris."

Chris nodded. "For me, too."

They stood like that for a while, just looking at each other, holding each other close. Chris almost jumped out of his skin when he heard his own stomach rumble. Toby blinked in surprise and then started to laugh.

"I guess we should feed you then, big guy," Toby said, still smiling.

"Yeah." Chris shook his head. "Great timing. But I am hungry."

"Me too," Toby admitted.

"Hey, Tobe." As Toby looked at him questioningly, Chris wrinkled his nose. "'Big guy'?"

"You don't like that?"

"No. Makes me sound like a greyhound or something."

"Well, you're all sleek muscle and power like a greyhound, but..." Toby grinned mischievously. "Definitely not a hound of any sort."

"Damn right!"

"C'mon, Chris, let's eat." Toby started towards the door and Chris slipped an arm around his shoulders, holding him close as they headed towards the kitchen.

It was almost agony being so close to Toby and not be tearing off his clothes and fucking him, Chris thought. They raided Laura's fridge, ate quickly and then returned to the living room. As Chris picked up the remote and started channel surfing, Toby lounged against him, shifting until he was comfortable with his head in Chris' lap.

"You good there?" Chris looked down at Toby, grinning.

"Yeah. You make a good pillow, Keller."

Chris rolled his eyes. "I'll put that on my resume."

"Personal pillow of Tobias Beecher," Toby agreed. As Chris slowly stroked his fingers through his hair, he added, "Are you really okay with this, Chris?"

"With which?"

"All of this." Toby waved a hand. "Me and you, like this, together again."

"Do you really have to ask?" Chris sighed. "Beecher, you worry too much. You over think shit and then you get all worked up and then we fight. And when we fight, it gets violent, and didn't we agree we weren't gonna do that anymore?"

Toby 'hmphed' a little at that. "I can't help being paranoid," he said defensively. "You kept dumping me in Oz."

"You kept dumping me, too, Beecher," Chris growled. "You were the one who became the slut of Em City to get back at me."

Toby scowled. "I was grieving..."

"Yeah and you were plotting and you knew exactly how to fucking push me, so don't give me that 'I was out of my mind' crap."

"Fine."

"Fine."

They sat in silence for several minutes, then Toby spoke again. "I don't mean to push you all the time, Chris."

Chris sighed again, heavily. "I know. But fuck, Tobe, haven't you learnt already? For someone who's supposed to be so fucking smart, you're being really fucking dense."

Toby sat up and stared at Chris, confused. "Learned what?"

"You really have no idea, do you?" Chris was amazed. He shook his head. "Toby, think about it. How many times did you tell me to stop something or not to do something while we were inside? How often did you ask me to do something or ask me a question that no one else would even fucking dare to? And I'd do what you told me to or I'd answer you, every single time. I love you, you idiot. That's why I did everything I did. For the first and only time in my fucking shithole of a life, I had something worth fighting for, something worth protecting. You, Toby. You."

Toby stared at him, his expression one of stunned amazement. It was as if he realised for the first time just how much he meant to Chris and the enormity of it shocked him. Chris watched the flicker and play of emotions across Toby's face and waited for Toby to react.

"Even after Operation Toby?"

"Especially after Operation Toby." Chris felt guilty all over again.

Toby moved then, straddling Chris and sitting in his lap, his hands cupping Chris' face. "I don't deserve you," he whispered, and before Chris could argue, he leaned in and whispered against Chris' lips, "But I'm not letting go of you. Not again."

Chris kissed him then, not knowing what else to do, his hands sliding slowly up Toby's back, caressing and stroking. Against him, Toby purred, like a large cat, and pressed close, kissing Chris hungrily, eagerly, and Chris thought there was never enough of this, no such thing as too much of Tobias Beecher. He could feel Toby's cock pressing against him, and growled into Toby's mouth as Toby rocked against him, hard bodies pressing together, rubbing, stimulating.

"How much longer," Toby panted as Chris trailed kisses down his neck, "oh fuck, that's good...Chris...god! How much longer do I have to wait for you to fuck me?"

One last kiss and Chris pulled back and looked into Toby's eyes, looked deep, his gaze assessing. "Tell me the truth and don't try to brush it off – how do you feel?"

Toby's voice was very quiet. "I feel better. The headache's gone, and only my rib hurts. The old injury, from when Vern stabbed me. But that's always been tender, you know that." Chris nodded; he remembered very well that Toby's side sometimes ached in cold or damp weather. "Apart from that, how do I feel? I feel dirty. I feel their hands on me, their dicks in my mouth. I want to feel you on me again. I want your dick in my mouth and your hands on me."

"I really am going to kill those fuckers," Chris growled.

"Murder later," Toby said, resting one hand, palm down, against Chris' chest, feeling his heart beat. "Kiss and fuck me now."

"That's a good plan," Chris agreed. "If you're sure?"

"You know me better than anyone. Does it look like I'm lying or hiding shit?"

Chris regarded Toby for another long moment and then shook his head. "No."

"So take me to bed, baby," Toby murmured, leaning in to brush his lips against Chris'. "Take me to bed and make me forget them and remember you."

Part Three.

Beecher: I haven't seen him in months. I'm a little anxious. How do I look?
Rebadow: Anxious.
Beecher: I was hoping you were going to say fuckable.

Although it was night, it wasn't completely dark. The moon was full and shone down on the sea, the dark water reflecting back the pale light. Stars covered the sky above them and everything was washed out in shades of silver and black. Another time, Chris might have thought about running down the private dock and diving into the darkened ocean, skinny dipping, loving the freedom and solitude, but right now, he wasn't even thinking about it. Everything was focused on Toby, how he looked in the moonlight, how much Chris wanted him, needed him, loved him.

Once they were in the bedroom, Chris felt a strange sense of déjà vu. He remembered his return to Oz from Massachusetts, how it felt like coming home only when Toby touched him for the first time in months. Those months they had been separated, Chris had never thought that he would be lucky enough to see Toby again, never thought he would be lucky enough to have Toby work his legal magic to get his death sentence repealed and get him out of prison – albeit on some pretty stringent parole conditions, but fuck, that was better than jail.

But now, standing close to Toby with the bed barely three feet away, wanting Toby desperately and wondering if he was doing the right thing, if he should wait a little longer, Chris felt off-balance. This wasn't like prison or their post-prison relationship, this was something new, unfamiliar. He started in surprise as Toby's hand touched his arm, and his eyes narrowed as he gazed at Toby's face.

"Chris?" Toby's voice was warm and soft, full of love and desire, and Chris felt his earlier fears come rushing back.

"Tobe, are you really sure about this?" Chris tried one last time. "You really sure you want me? You could...fuck, it kills me to say it but...you could do so much better."

Toby smiled then, one of those soft, secret smiles that was for Chris alone. "Didn't you hear me earlier? It's only ever been you for me, Chris. I don't want anyone else, better, worse, or otherwise. I only want you. No one else."

Chris drew in a shaky breath. "Toby..."

"Chris," Toby moved closer so that they were touching. "Fuck me. Now. Please." He brushed his lips over Chris', his hand sliding up Chris' arm to his shoulder, the tips of his fingers tracing Chris' neck. "Please."

Chris groaned and wrapped his arms around Toby, crushing him to his body and kissing him hard. Toby whined into the kiss, his hands going to Chris' waist, tugging at clothing with fumbling fingers. As Chris slowly kissed his way down Toby's neck, nibbling on pale skin at the curve of shoulder and throat, Toby moaned.

"Chris...fuck! Want...get...get naked. Oh god...fuck!"

Chris grinned and then stepped right back and peeled off his clothes. Toby's expression as he revealed his skin was one of pure lust, his gaze raking over Chris' body. "Like what you see, baby?" Chris smirked.

"Oh fuck, yes," Toby said and he dropped to his knees, leaned in and licked around the head of Chris' cock with the tip of his tongue.

"Toby," Chris groaned, hands going to Toby's head. "Fuck, your tongue..."

Toby looked up at Chris through his eyelashes, and then licked up the hard length of his cock, teased the slit then opened his mouth and took Chris deep.

"Fuck!" Chris gasped as he felt that wet heat envelop him, the sucking pressure of Toby's mouth, his tongue winding over and around his cock. He thrust into Toby's mouth, groaning loudly as Toby moaned, one hand on Chris' balls, the other rubbing his own cock through his sweat pants. "Fuck, baby, so good," Chris groaned, forcing himself not to just grab Toby's head and fuck that sweet mouth until he came. He wanted this to be a good experience for both of them, after what Toby had been through in Rock Creek Park. He wanted Toby to enjoy it just as much as he was. So he gentled his strokes and caresses, encouraging now instead of demanding, making loud noises of pleasure as that talented mouth worked its magic on his cock. "Oh god, Tobe...not...fuck...so close!"

Toby looked up at him then, blue eyes wide and open, nothing hidden from Chris' gaze, Chris gasped as his whole body shuddered and he came, his cock twitching on Toby's tongue with the force of his orgasm. "Toby!"

He felt Toby's throat working as he swallowed Chris down, and Chris couldn't stand it anymore. He had to touch Toby, kiss him, taste him, fuck him. He tugged Toby upwards by the convenient handle of his hair and kissed him hard, tasting himself on Toby's tongue. He could feel Toby's cock pressing against his hip through the thin sweat pants Toby wore and he growled in annoyance, shoving them down. Toby wriggled, stepping out of the sweats, broke the kiss long enough to pull off his t-shirt and then they were kissing again. They stumbled, bodies pressed together, towards the bed and collapsed on it in a tangle of limbs, mouths still devouring each other.

"Want you," Toby panted between hot, hungry kisses. "Chris, want you so much..."

Chris grinned, gently pushed Toby onto his back and began to slowly work his way down that pale, writhing body on the bed. His tongue laved each of Toby's pale scars, souvenirs from Oz, making him pant and gasp and buck up towards him. Chris licked and nibbled his way down, hands sliding over Toby's body, gently pushing his legs up and apart. Toby groaned loudly, arching towards him as Chris pressed his face into his groin, inhaling the scent of him, then shifted and licked up and down the underside of Toby's straining cock.

"I've got you, baby," Chris purred as he continued moving downwards, licking the sensitive skin of the crease of inner thigh and groin. He sucked Toby's balls into his mouth, licking and tasting, making a soft growling noise of pure pleasure as the sound of Toby's enjoyment filling his ears.

Further down, and Chris licked a slow, wet path down to Toby's hole, then licked with the very tip of his tongue, teasing Toby, knowing he was driving him mad with it, confirmed by Toby's loud whining groan and babbled pleas for more, yes, fuck, now! As he felt Toby's shaking hands on his head, Chris slowly pressed his tongue inside his lover's body and began to slowly tongue-fuck him, making the noises he knew drove Toby wild; wet, erotic, obscene noises. One hand on Toby's cock, stroking him as he lick-thrust inside that tight heat, and Chris knew that Toby wasn't going to last long, could feel his lover's entire body trembling with arousal and the rapidly growing need to come. He curled the tip of his tongue inside Toby and was rewarded with a hoarse shout of pleasure followed by warm, sticky wetness on his hand as Toby came.

Chris continued to lick and thrust as the tremors of orgasm rocked Toby's body. Finally, he pulled away and sat back on his haunches and grinned. "Sexy," he remarked, looking down at Toby, legs spread wide, chest heaving as he panted, skin flushed with arousal. He licked some of Toby's come from his hand, smirking as he watched Toby watch him, saw those blue eyes darken with lust, the tip of Toby's tongue dart out to lick his lips. "Tastes good, baby." He held out his hand, leaning forward. "Lick."

Toby did, grasping Chris' hand and sucking on his fingers as if his life depended on it, growling as he did so, tongue teasing each digit lewdly. Chris purred, rocking forward, his cock sliding against Toby's own. Toby wasn't hard, but he wasn't soft now either, but Chris was hard enough to cut steel and he wanted to fuck Toby into the mattress. He pulled his fingers from Toby's mouth and laughed softly at the pout on his face, moving to kiss those full lips.

"You going to fuck me, Keller?" Toby murmured, his voice rough with desire.

"You know it, baby." Chris nibbled on Toby's lower lip. "Just enjoyin' all of you right now."

Toby groaned. "Why did I ever push you away from me?"

"Because you're an idiot," Chris said cheerfully. "Lube, baby."

"Huh? Oh." Toby shook his head as if to clear his lust-clouded brain. "I don't know. There's probably something in the bathroom, maybe?"

"I'll go look. Don't move." Chris slid sinuously off Toby's body, ignoring the noise of protest, and padded into the bathroom, making sure to put a slight swing in his step. He rummaged around the medicine cabinet for a few moments and finally found what he was looking for. Laura, it seemed, liked to make sure her guests didn't have to worry if they forgot anything when they visited. He sashayed out and paused to gaze at Toby once more.

"What?" Toby sounded slightly defensive and Chris joined him on the bed, settling between his spread legs.

"You're beautiful, baby," Chris said simply. As Toby blushed and started to stammer a denial, Chris continued. "I don't care what you think. I know you think you're nothin' to write home about, but you're wrong. You're fucking gorgeous and you're mine."

"I don't know what you see in me, Chris," Toby admitted. "You're the gorgeous one."

"Yeah, I am." Chris agreed, grinning as Toby rolled his eyes. "But Tobe, I look at you, and I see..." He paused, searching for the words. "I see the universe. I see all my everythings in you, baby."

Toby stared at Chris for a long moment, then sat up and cupped Chris' face between his hands. "That's the most amazing, romantic thing anyone's ever said to me," he whispered, and his eyes were bright with emotion. "Fuck. I love you, Christopher Keller."

"I love you, Tobias Beecher," Chris answered and kissed him eagerly as Toby drew him close and they lay back down on the bed.

"Lube?" Toby asked, his hands sliding over Chris' body, fingers mapping every line of muscle and sinew.

"Got it," Chris replied, reaching up to grab one of the pillows and push it beneath Toby's hips. "Don't want to hurt you."

"You never do," Toby replied. "Don't argue," he added. "I know you're going to. Just don't, okay? You and me, this – all of it is more important than all that other shit." He sighed as he lifted his legs, Chris guiding them to his shoulders. "It's been too long since you fucked me like this, so we can watch each other."

"You're such a romantic at heart, Tobe," Chris said, amused.

"You inspire me," Toby replied, his hand joining Chris' own as Chris began to slick his cock with lube. "Want this in me, baby."

"Gettin' there," Chris growled, moving again, the head of his cock against Toby's hole. "Ready, baby?"

"From the moment we met," Toby answered, and then he let out a long groan of sheer pleasure as Chris slowly pushed his cock inside. He arched back, eyes falling closed, lips parted, and cried out as Chris slid slowly into him until he was buried balls deep inside him. "Oh, fuck!"

"God!" Chris had almost forgotten how tight Toby was, how hot. He nearly saw stars as Toby flexed his muscles around his cock, and he rolled his hips, drawing out another of those hungry moans from Toby. Toby's hands were on his shoulders, fingers digging in, clutching at him, and Chris braced himself on one arm, wrapping his free hand around Toby's cock.

"Fuck. Me," Toby panted, opening his eyes and locking his gaze with Chris'.

Chris nodded, and, breath hissing between his teeth, he began to move, a slow and steady rhythm, fucking Toby hard and relentlessly, angling his thrusts so that his cock brushed again and again over Toby's prostate. Each time, Toby clenched down, groaning and babbling with pleasure, his blunt nails digging into Chris' skin. Each time, Chris moaned, feeling himself teeter on the edge of orgasm.

It didn't take long, not when both of them were so eager for each other, so hot for each other that nothing else existed. Chris' thrusts grew shorter; faster and harder, and Toby encouraged him, urging him on with those noises and with his touch. As Chris felt himself on the very brink, he leaned down and kissed Toby, capturing his lips in a desperate kiss as he shoved deep one last time and came hard, yelling Toby's name into his mouth. He continued to stroke Toby's cock as his orgasm washed over him, and it wasn't long before Toby was coming as well, yelling his pleasure.

Chris collapsed, boneless, on top of Toby. He grinned, feeling sated and exhausted. "Okay?"

"Very okay. More than okay." Toby sounded very well fucked. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Why are you thanking me?"

"Because," Toby shifted, managing to extricate himself from beneath Chris' body, rolling onto his side and gazing at Chris with love-filled eyes. "Because you got rid of that dirty feeling. You made it go away."

Chris rolled onto his side as well, facing Toby, his expression concerned. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm not a delicate petal, Chris." Toby chuckled. "I survived Oz, we both did. I needed you to fuck me and...well, I really, really like it when you fuck me." He grinned. "I like it when you say I'm yours, because I am yours. And that was a fantastic fuck."

"It was," Chris agreed. "And okay, you're not a delicate whatever, but we're still taking it easy 'til we got the all clear."

"Okay." Toby snuggled close. "Kiss me."

"Demanding bitch," Chris teased, but he wrapped his arms around Toby and kissed him gently, humming happily as Toby kissed him back and then deepened it, so that they lay naked and sweaty together, necking like horny teenagers. "'s not gonna get up again for a bit, though," Chris teased as Toby rubbed against him.

"'s okay. Just want to feel you, that's all." Toby kissed Chris again. "Maybe we can stay in bed until we get the all clear from your friends and the cops."

"Sounds like a plan, baby. I want to get the guns, though. I want 'em close."

Toby sighed. "Okay. Do that now, then come back to bed."

"Okay?" Chris was confused.

"Well, I don't want to let you out of my sight, but you're right, so you get them and come back and then we can go back to the kissing and cuddling and more sex part."

Chris laughed. "I'll be back in a minute," he said as pulled back and slid off the bed.

"You better," Toby replied.

"You doubt me?"

"Never," was the reply.

*~*~*

They lay together, pressed close, kissing and touching and revelling in each other. It was, Chris thought, better than any fantasy he'd had, lying here on this huge bed with Toby, no hacks, no onlookers, no Schillinger lurking in the shadows. He luxuriated in it.

"Chris?"

"Mm?"

Toby ran a hand down Chris' flank, causing Chris to stretch and preen beneath the touch. "Did you ever think we'd get to this stage?"

"Which stage? We've been fucking each other for years, baby."

"I know that." Toby made a little 'hmph' noise of annoyance and Chris grinned. "What I mean is, did you ever think we could last as long together as we have?"

"With breaks for being pissed in between?" Chris considered it. "Sure, if we hadn't been in Oz, if all that shit hadn't happened. You an' me, if we'd met elsewhere, maybe we'd be married and playin' two daddies with your kids, livin' in a house with a white picket fence and a dog. You'd be Mr Tobias Keller, and would teach the kids good morals and I'd teach 'em how to cheat at poker and not get the shit kicked out of 'em."

Toby blinked. "Why do I have to change my surname in this scenario of yours?"

"Because," Chris said reasonably, "Chris Beecher sounds dumb." He laughed as Toby hit him lightly. "C'mon, baby, be serious. You an' me? If there was never Oz, we'd never have happened. How the fuck would we have met? We moved in very different circles, you gotta agree."

Toby sighed. "I guess. I just... I want to think -- I like to think -- that it wasn't just Oz that brought us together. I want to believe it was fate. That no matter what, we could have met and been happy together."

"Baby," Chris said with a sigh, "you think this shit through way too much."

"I can't help it."

"You're fucking OCD about it," Chris said.

"Do you even know what OCD is?"

"I may look stupid, but I ain't and you know it, so shut up." Chris stretched again as Toby caressed him. He felt calm and content, taking Toby's trademark worries in his stride without losing his temper. He remembered something then, and smirked, although the expression was tinged faintly with maliciousness. "Anyway, you asked me right before you went to your son's funeral, you asked me if I'd ever felt this way about another man. And I told you the fucking truth. I said no, I'd never felt for anyone what I feel for you. And you, Toby, you called me a damn liar. So don't give me pretty speeches about your fucking daydreams for the perfect life, because you didn't believe me inside and you sure as shit didn't completely believe me when I got out."

Toby looked guilty. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I just...Chris, you know I was grieving."

"So why the fuck did you ask me?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"I asked, didn't I?" Chris was starting to get annoyed. "C'mon, Beecher, spit it out."

Toby rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. "I didn't like myself much," he confessed. "I failed as a husband, as a father, as a lover. You were so good to me, you always were, even...fuck. I didn't think I deserved you. I didn't want that answer. Calling you a liar was the only thing I could think of. Then, when Ronnie came along and..." He sighed. "He told me you said you loved him, and all I could think was, 'I was right, he's a damn liar', but even then I knew that the person you were lying to wasn't me. When you told me you did care about who I slept with, who I fucked, I could see it in your eyes, just like that day when you said that you'd never felt like this with anyone else. I knew you killed those men I slept with. I liked that you were so possessive that you would kill anyone who touched me. But I still couldn't accept that I deserved it, deserved you."

"That why you kept trying to push me away while trying to keep me close?" Chris' eyes were narrowed, shrewdly understanding.

"Yes." Toby sighed again. "I'm an idiot."

"Not gonna argue." Chris shook his head. "Tobe, you an' me, we been through hell and back. Two people don't go through the shit that we did together and not have it change them. They either grow apart or grow closer. We grew closer. Just so happens that when we disagree, we fight, and when we fight, we get violent. It's our special kind of foreplay."

Toby barked a laugh at that. "Violence as foreplay? Yeah, I guess you're right. We did do a lot of shit to each other."

"And we kept coming back to each other. You stabbed me in the back with that fucking shank, I broke your arms, you put out for anyone and everyone to piss me off, I seduced Ronnie to piss you off, we killed and hurt other people to protect each other...and even while we hated each other, we still loved each other."

"You understand us better than I do," Toby turned his head to look at Chris, a smile playing about his lips. "How the fuck do you do that?"

"Aw, Tobe, I just know you."

"Better than anyone," Toby agreed.

"Better than yourself, too."

"Yeah."

Chris decided to change the subject. "Did you talk to your wife?"

Toby raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment on Chris' choice of conversation. "I did."

"And?"

"She was relieved to hear I was all right. I spoke to the kids, told them I'd be home soon from my, ah, business trip." Toby's expression was bemused. "I hear she asked you to help find me."

"Yeah."

"And?" This time Toby asked the question.

"And what? She told me you were missing and I told her I didn't want her money and I'd get you out."

"What else?" Toby poked Chris' shoulder.

Chris rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. I told her to make it fucking crystal clear that she wouldn't stand between you an' me. Happy?"

Toby blinked. "And she agreed? This is...I thought she might put up a fight."

"She said that she wouldn't let me near your kids yet." And fuck that hurt, Chris thought. "But other than that, yeah, she agreed. 'sides, I think she knows very well how you an' I feel 'bout each other."

"Probably." Toby frowned thoughtfully. "I'll work on introducing you to the kids. I want them to be a part of our life, to know that daddy has a boyfriend and to be okay with it. I don't want Gen keeping it from them."

"You sure?"

"Yes." Toby smiled and kissed Chris gently. "I'm positive."

"Okay." Chris smiled back and drew Toby close, sighing happily as skin slid against skin. The next moment, however, the relaxed mood was gone as he sat bolt upright, tense and alert as any predator. "Did you hear that?"

Toby blinked. "Hear what?"

But Chris was already off the bed, tugging on his jeans and grabbing the guns. He handed one of the weapons to Toby and took the other. "Stay put. Anyone but me comes in here, shoot." Before Toby could say anything, Chris was gone, silent and deadly, heading in the direction of the noise he had heard only moments ago.

It had been a calculated choice, giving Toby the gun that hadn't been issued him by the cops. If he needed to use it, it would be better for the police to find that Toby had discharged it and that Chris had been a 'good boy' and only used the one they had issued him. Chris kept to the shadows, moving silently and swiftly through Laura's house. The sound had come from the rear of the building, towards the sea and Chris had a sneaking suspicion that Schillinger's people, realising that a frontal approach would not work, were now trying to get in to get to him and Toby from the seaward side.

Standing in the shadows of the hallway, staring out of the huge windows that faced the ocean, Chris swore quietly and inventively as he saw his suspicions were right. A small boat, barely larger than a tin dinghy was tethered to the private wharf and he could see four men creeping through the darkness towards the house. Chris moved back, pulled his cell phone from his pocket, flipped it open and rang Laura.

"They're here," he hissed before she had a chance to say anything.

"What?" Laura's voice was startled.

"Four of Schillinger's fuckers, come in from the sea."

Laura swore. "Armed as well, I'll bet."

"Yeah. Get the cops here."

"Already contacted them," Laura replied, and Chris didn't want to ask how she had managed that. "Take Beecher into the study. It's more secure in there."

"Okay." Chris hesitated. "How long 'til the police get here?"

"About two minutes."

"Shit. They'll be in the house in two minutes and I don't want to fucking get sent back to Oz because I kill them."

"You won't." Laura's voice was all business. "Is the one who got away from Rock Creek Park with them?"

"Yeah."

"Right. That's Schillinger's last group outside of prison, then. Take them down any way you have to, Keller."

"I intend to," he growled.

He slid the phone back into his pocket then went back to the bedroom. "C'mon, Toby," he said, seeing his lover dressed and standing, gun in hand.

"Where?" Toby's voice was expressionless, cold. Chris recognised it immediately – this was the Toby he knew from Oz, the do-not-fuck-with-me Toby, the Toby that could be laughing one minute then sticking a shank into your kidneys the next.

"Study," Chris said curtly and Toby nodded, following him.

There was a flaw in the plan, Chris saw, once they were in the study. There was a lot of wood, and with bullets flying about, that would mean possible splinters or worse. He frowned, thinking it over even as he heard the soft tinkle of broken glass on a tiled floor.

Toby, however, had moved to the side of the room where a row of steel filing cabinets stood. "This'd be good cover," he said calmly.

Chris mentally slapped himself and nodded. "It would. Pull 'em out from the wall a bit, and we can hold 'em off."

"Are the police on the way?" Toby grunted as he shifted one of the cabinets enough for him to worm his way behind it.

"Yeah, two minutes, Laura said." Chris pulled another cabinet out from the wall and squeezed his way in beside Toby. "You doing okay there?"

"Yep." Toby was gazing steadily at the door.

"Vengeful fucker." Chris grinned, and was rewarded with a soft laugh.

"So are you, baby."

"Damn right I am." Chris tensed as he heard the soft sound of voices in the hallway approaching the door, sounds travelling further at night. "They're looking in every room."

"Good thing you heard them coming," Toby said quietly. "I didn't hear a thing."

"I wasn't really going to relax until I knew for sure they were out of the picture," Chris said seriously. "There was no way I was going to let them get you again."

"I love you, you know," Toby murmured.

"I know. And I do, too." Chris grinned.

The door of the study opened and the first man to step through let out a yell of triumph. "Fuckers! Here they are, the cocksuckers of Oz, hiding behind fucking cabinets."

Chris didn't waste time with replying. He simply shot the man in the leg.

"You didn't kill him," Toby remarked.

"I wasn't trying to, Beecher," Chris said drily. "I don't want to go back inside."

Toby snorted. "Self-defence."

"Not always foolproof in court," Chris answered.

The other three men stood on either side of the open door firing at Chris and Toby and watching as the first man, yelling in pain slowly stood up.

"You're gonna pay for that, motherfucker," he snarled. "Schillinger wants you two prags dead."

"Schillinger should be used to disappointment by now," Toby replied. "I could always bite his dick off, if he wants."

Chris resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Must you?"

"What? I did it before, to Robson, I'll do it again if I have to."

"You didn't bite it off when you were sucking my dick, Beechball," the Aryan taunted. "Matter of fact, you were loving it, groaning and begging for it. Saying, 'Please, Chris, more,' thinking we was your boyfriend there."

"Did you really?" Chris blinked.

"They hit me on the head, Chris," Toby answered. "I was a little out of it."

"Oh." Chris considered that. "Okay."

"Am I forgiven?"

"I always forgive you," Chris smiled at Toby. "Sooner or later." Then he turned his attention to the man jeering at them and fired the Glock.

The man went down screaming, his howls of pain loud in the room. Toby stared. "You shot him in the dick!"

"He made you suck it!"

"Chris, you shot the man's dick off!"

"Yeah, and you should say 'thank you'!"

"You shot his dick off!"

"Fucking hell, Beecher! You do it your way, with your teeth, I'll do it my way, with a gun. Either way, they lose their dick!"

Toby gaped at him and then laughed. "I want you so fucking much right now."

Chris shook his head. "You're crazy, Beech."

"We're arguing about how to remove a man's dick during a gunfight in a posh house, and you're calling me crazy?" Toby laughed harder.

As they'd been talking, the other men had fired their guns, dodging bullets as Chris and Toby returned fire. Chris ducked behind the cabinet, pulling Toby with him, as bullets smashed wood and furnishings, shattered glass and impacted loudly with the metal of the filing cabinets.

"Fuck!" Chris took aim through the gap between the cabinets and fired. Beside him, Toby did the same. There was a gratifying sound of pain from the figures in the hallway and then, finally, loud voices.

"Police!"

"About damn time," Chris muttered.

*~*~*

Laura was shaking her head. "I'm glad I have insurance."

Chris looked at the damaged study and shrugged ruefully. "Gunfight's not about home decorating, darlin'."

"I know. I'm not blaming you, Keller." She looked around. "I'm just glad I had the forethought to take out insurance against this place for everything I could possibly insure it for."

"We can leave..."

"Nah, stay. At least until the windows are repaired. I'll feel better knowing someone's here and watching over the place." Laura frowned. "I don't want any enterprising people deciding that because the windows are covered with plastic it's easy pickings for robbery."

Chris nodded. "Okay, we can house-sit until you get things fixed."

"Good." Laura led the way out of the study and the house into the front yard which was brightly lit by flood-lamps. The police were talking to Toby and the DA. "How's he doing?"

"Better." Chris nodded. "Nothing like a bit of violence to soothe your soul."

"Well there is, actually, but we can talk about that later." Laura grinned. "Did you really shoot that guy in the dick?"

"Yes." Chris pulled his battered packet of cigarettes from his pocket, took one out and lit it up. Inhaling deeply, he added, "He was saying how Toby sucked him off, thinking he was me."

"Oh boy," Laura whistled. "I'm surprised you didn't kill him."

"Don't want to go back to Oz." Chris shrugged. "'sides, this way is worse. For him."

"Yeah." Laura shook her head once more. Toby walked over to join them then and she nodded politely at him. "It's nice to finally meet you, Tobias."

Chris introduced them. "Toby, this is Laura."

"It's a pleasure," Toby said, shaking her hand and smiling warmly. "Thank you for letting us stay in your house – even if we did wreck part of it."

Laura laughed. "You and Keller are house-sitting until everything's fixed."

"I'll pay..."

Laura cut him off. "I don't think you could afford the sort of glass I'm intending to have installed, Tobias. No offense. House-sitting would be extremely helpful of you, if you wouldn't mind?"

Chris watched, amused, as the two of them circled each other verbally, testing each other out.

"Then we'd be happy to," Toby was saying, slipping an arm around Chris' waist.

"Excellent. Well, I must be off, I need to go to a meeting in the city and I'm already running late. Keller." She nodded at him. "Tobias."

"See you later, Laura," Chris said.

"I don't like her," Toby grumbled in Chris' ear.

"It's a rich person thing, isn't it," Chris said.

"No, it's just..." Toby huffed a sigh. "Okay, fine, it's a rich person thing."

Chris burst out laughing. "I fucking knew it."

"Shut up."

Chris grinned at his lover. "What did the cops and the DA say?"

"Just that they've charged Schillinger and the rest of the Brotherhood – our four friends who are now in custody. Schillinger swears that he did nothing wrong and that we made a mistake." Toby's lip curled in disgust, "But one of those fuckers from Rock Creek rolled on him, so he's going to have a hard time avoiding death row."

"Couldn't happen to a more deserving guy," Chris answered.

"Yeah. Oh, the guy you shot in the dick wants to press charges, but the DA told him that wouldn't be wise as you were shooting in self defence from behind a barrier that impaired your vision and so therefore you were not to know that the bullet took him in that particular body part." Toby grinned.

Chris burst out laughing again. "She did, huh? Good on her!"

They watched as the police, ambulance and DA started to leave, and when the last car left the property, the electric powered gates slowly swung shut. Chris pulled Toby to him and held him close, losing himself in the feeling of that warm, familiar body against his own.

"I had to give the gun back," Toby said after a moment.

"I figured." Chris didn't care much about guns at that point.

"Your parole is fine, too, you're not in any trouble. The DA and your PO know you're here and that we'll be here for at least another two weeks. I don't know what your friend said to them, but she seems to have some pretty impressive pull over those people. They didn't argue about you staying here with me at all."

"Huh." Chris digested that. "She's always had her fingers in lots of pies."

"Mm." Toby snuggled close, kissing Chris' neck. "So, I had an idea."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mm."

"And that idea is?"

Toby pulled back, taking Chris' hand in his own. "Come with me."

Inside the house, Toby led Chris into the large sunroom that overlooked the sea. Glass shards dotted the carpet and tiles to one side of the open door, a hastily taped tarpaulin thrumming in the sea breeze. Toby moved to the intact window and leaned back against it, a smile playing about his face.

"What?" Chris was completely baffled. "What're you up to, Beech?"

"I thought some celebratory sex would be in order," Toby said, as calmly as if he were discussing the weather. "I thought you could take your clothes off and look out over the sea while I bury my face in your ass and shove my tongue inside you."

Chris' mouth went dry and he had to swallow several times. "Uh," he said.

"Then," Toby continued, starting to peel off his clothes, "I thought I could replace my tongue with my dick, once I got you begging and panting for it by licking you out just the way you like." He smirked. "I know how much you like my tongue, Keller."

"It's a very long tongue," Chris managed to get out, staring at his now-naked lover.

"You should get naked," Toby suggested.

"Oh. Right." Chris fumbled for a moment with his jeans, then shoved them down, kicked them away and stepped forward. He hadn't bothered with a shirt or shoes, and he moved to Toby, reaching for him. "Toby..."

Toby took Chris' hands in his own and pulled him close. "I love you," he murmured, and leaned in and kissed him.

Chris' hands slid over Toby's skin, fingertips grazing over his old scars from time in Oz. He wrapped his arms around Toby as the kiss deepened, as Toby slid one hand up to cup his cheek, pressing close and kissing him so passionately that Chris thought he might come from that kiss alone. But Toby had other ideas, turning them and pressing Chris back until he hit the window.

"You feel so good," Toby whispered, breaking the kiss to stare into Chris' eyes. "You saved me, Chris. So many fucking times. You always watched out for me. I took it for granted in Oz. And I am so fucking sorry." His breath hitched slightly. "I'm so sorry," he continued after a moment, "that I did that. You were right when you told me that I was only ever thinking about myself."

"Tobe..."

"No, let me finish." Toby smiled. "I fucked up things pretty good when we were inside. I fucked things up again when we both got out. Today, I realised just how fucking lucky I am to have you. And I want you to know that I always loved you, even when I was crazy with hate, or when we were fighting. I always loved you and I always will. So I want you to know that I get it now. I really get it. And fuck, I don't deserve it and I don't deserve you, but I'm not letting you go."

Chris stared at him. "You think too much," he said finally.

"I know." Toby kissed him again. "You love it."

Chris chuckled, although it sounded a little unsteady in his own ears. "I dunno 'bout that, Tobe. But I do love you, craziness and all."

"I know." Toby smiled, and it was, Chris thought, like the sun coming up. "You saved me from Vern every single time and I repaid you with suspicion and hate. I never once said thank you. So I'm saying it now. Thank you, Chris."

Chris blinked, completely blindsided by Toby's words, and feeling uncomfortable at the same time. "I don't know where the fuck this all came from," he said softly. "All I know is that you're mine and I don't want to lose you."

"You won't lose me." Toby kissed Chris a third time. "You're stuck with me now. And if any of my family or Gen or anyone give me shit about it? They can go fuck themselves with a zucchini."

Chris burst out laughing. "A zucchini? Are you high?"

"It was the first thing I could think of," Toby admitted. "And I'm not high. I've been clean and sober for six years."

"That's fucking impressive," Chris said seriously, because it was. A person didn't go from alcohol and heroin addiction to sober easily. He knew from firsthand experience how hard it was to give up addictions.

"Thank you. So turn around, baby, because I want to fuck you."

"Finally," Chris said with relief.

"I know. But I had to say it." Toby smiled.

"Okay. Don't make a habit of it."

"I won't. Turn around. I want to taste you."

Chris moaned, his cock hardening at Toby's words. He kissed Toby – a hard, brief, devastating kiss, purring at the loud, hungry moan that it brought from him – and then he turned around, spread his legs and braced himself with his hands palm down on the glass of the window.

"God, you're so fucking hot," Toby whispered, his voice rough with desire. He ran a hand down Chris' back to his ass, cupping and squeezing.

"Toby..." Chris groaned.

"I've got you," Toby answered, dropping to his knees on the plush carpet. He gripped Chris' ass, spreading those pale, muscled cheeks and leaned in, licking a slow path down Chris' crack with the very tip of his tongue.

"God," Chris gasped, his cock twitching. "Fuck!"

"Getting there," Toby replied, his lips brushing hot skin. "Lean forward a bit."

Chris complied, unable to stop himself from rocking back towards Toby, letting out a loud, needy whine as Toby licked again then pressed close, face flush with his ass and licked around his hole.

"Oh god," Chris gasped, as Toby's tongue teased him, licked and almost thrust, the tip swirling circles around him. "Toby, please, for the love of god!"

Toby licked over Chris' hole once more then slowly pressed his tongue into that tight heat, his lips pressing against hot skin. Chris moaned, shivering in pleasure, lost to the sensations of Toby's tongue inside him, licking him, fucking him, all while making hot, obscene, sexy noises which went straight from Chris' ears to his cock. The muscles in Chris' arms strained as he forced himself not to move – all he wanted was to turn around, grab Toby and shove him backwards onto the carpet, straddle him and ride his cock until he popped like warm champagne. He bit down on his lower lip, letting out another loud moan as Toby curled the tip of his tongue and licked deeper, impossibly deeper.

"Fuck! Oh god, Toby, Toby, Toby!" Chris writhed helplessly, caught up in the waves of pleasure surging through him. He was nearly incoherent with it, caught between the cool glass and Toby's warm hands, soft lips and hot, sinful tongue. Trembling almost violently, he knew there was no way he was going to last if Toby kept this delicious torment going – he was going to blow his load all over Laura's sea-view windows, in less than two minutes.

Toby pulled back, then stood up as Chris gasped, panting harshly and feeling bereft at the lack of penetration. But then Toby pressed his body against Chris, lacing the fingers of his left hand with Chris' own, and Chris felt the slick head of his cock against his spit-wet hole and moaned, rocking back into Toby's body eagerly.

"Please," he moaned, and god, did he always sound this wrecked when Toby fucked him? He couldn't remember – most of the time, he was the one fucking Toby and Toby was coming apart with Chris putting him back together. The few times Toby had taken charge in bed, Chris could count on one hand.

A low groan came from behind him and then Chris felt Toby's cock pushing into him in one slow thrust until he was balls-deep inside him. They stood like that, panting and not moving for several moments, until Toby gripped Chris' hip with his free hand and started to move.

God, it was bliss being fucked like this, Toby's mouth on his neck, his cock in his ass, and Chris clenched down each time Toby was deep in him. His head fell back, resting against Toby's and he moaned as Toby kissed his cheek. They moved together, with grunts and moans and wordless cries of pleasure, Toby's thrusts gradually speeding up.

"Chris," Toby moaned, shuddering, and Chris knew he was right on the edge. "God, Chris... love you...." And then he cried out and bit down on Chris's shoulder, shoving hard and deep and coming so hard that Chris was sure he could feel Toby's cock twitching with the force of his orgasm deep inside him.

Toby's hand dropped from Chris' hip to his cock and one tug, two, and Chris let out a loud bellow of pleasure, eyes falling closed as he came hard, spilling onto Toby's hand and splashing on the window.

They collapsed, boneless and sated, onto the carpet, Chris letting out an unhappy noise when he felt Toby slip from his body. "That," Chris said breathlessly, when he could make his voice work properly again, "was fucking incredible."

"Fuck, yes," Toby agreed fervently.

"I like it when you drive," Chris said, rolling onto his side, feeling that delicious ache in his ass that meant he'd been very well fucked.

"I like it too," Toby admitted. "But I'm more...subby."

Chris tried not to laugh. "You've always been a bottom, baby. But I've never thought of you as just my prag."

Toby rolled onto his side as well, facing Chris. "I know. I've never felt like that's all I was to you, either. Even when we were at our worst with each other."

"Mm," Chris replied. He ran a hand slowly down Toby's side. "So, you said something earlier about livin' together?"

"Yeah." Toby smiled. "We should do that. It'd be easier and I miss not waking up with you."

"We are such an old married couple," Chris huffed and then he grinned at Toby's shocked expression. "Well, we are!"

"I guess we are." Toby blinked in wonder. "Imagine that." Then he grinned. "Though you broke your own rule, Keller."

"Oh yeah? How's that?"

"You fucked me before you married me."

"Oh, you fucker," Chris growled, and started tickling Toby, who yelled in between his laughter and batted his hands away.

"Stop it! Stop! Chris!"

"Okay, I've stopped." Chris grinned and pulled Toby into a hug. "Fucker."

"Your fucker," Toby said, his voice amused.

"Damn right."

*~*~*

Epilogue.

Keller: I love you.
Beecher: I love you.
Keller: Kiss me.

The sun was shining and the birds were singing. Chris sprawled on a park bench, watching fondly as Toby played with his children, chasing them around the playground, the sounds of childlike laughter filling the air.

It was weird, Chris thought, how he and Toby always came back to this point. In Oz, everything had been based on a lie, a deception. Chris had betrayed Toby in the worst possible way, but Toby had forgiven him. Chris had not been able to forgive himself for the longest time, not until he had shanked Schillinger in revenge for that Nazi fuck trying to kill Beecher in the gym so many years ago. After that, they had been – more or less – inseparable. Even when bars separated them, they were still together, and even when they fought, they were still together, coming back to each other again and again.

Living together was not easy. Chris frequently found himself biting back harsh words about Genevieve and her disapproval of their relationship. He had found it nearly impossible to be civil to Toby's mother, but he had developed an easy friendship with Toby's brother and, to a lesser degree, his father. Toby's kids, once they had gotten to know him, seemed to think he was the best thing ever, particularly as he let them climb all over him, using him as a human jungle-gym.

Genevieve had finally agreed to allow Toby access to their children with Chris around on every third weekend. The fact that their children adored their 'Daddy Chris' was not lost on their mother, whose mouth seemed to be permanently set into a thin, disapproving line. She had slowly come to realise that Chris was as watchful and protective of the children as Toby himself, and although she would never like him, or him her, they had come to a truce.

Toby jogged over and flopped onto the bench beside Chris as the children kicked up little whirls of dust as they played on the swings. "Penny for your thoughts," he said.

Chris smiled at him. "Wasn't thinkin' much, baby. Just how weird it is that we got here, after all the shit we been through."

"Our lives have certainly been interesting," Toby agreed. "Are you happy, Chris?"

Chris turned to face Toby then, a smile lighting his whole face. "More than you could ever imagine, Tobe."

"Good." Toby leaned forward and kissed him, sighing happily into Chris' mouth. "So, we'll drop the kids off back at Gen's, then go home and fuck?"

"Best idea ever," Chris agreed, sliding an arm around Toby's shoulders. He smiled as Toby settled against him. "Don't forget we got dinner with the three ladies of crime next weekend."

"I haven't forgotten," Toby said. "I'm kind of looking forward to it." His smile became slightly malicious. "I really enjoyed telling Schillinger we all lived happily ever after."

Chris laughed. "I'll bet you did." Toby had gone to visit Vern before his execution was carried out, to rub salt into the wound, he said. The restrictions of parole had meant that Chris hadn't been able to go with him to see the rage in Schillinger's face for himself, but imagination was just as good as the real thing. "He's finally gone and we don't have to worry about the fucking Brotherhood anymore."

"About fucking time," Toby agreed fervently, snuggling close.

END

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