Affliction  Affliction - Part Two
 by 'dalia
 
 Beecher began packing a bag full of dirty clothes to take to the laundry
room. Keller had gone to work out in the gym, and left a pile of his
smelly clothes on his bed for Beecher to take along with his. 

 Two months ago I was lying in the infirmary because of him, now I'm doing
his fucking laundry, Beecher thought as he pushed Keller's clothing in the
bag.

 Only a week had gone by since he had gotten out of the infirmary, but
they were already on good terms. They spoke all the time, ate together and
hung out together. Beecher had tried to delay this reunion, but Keller was
so damn persistent. It seemed to be impossible to stay in the same pod
with that man and *not* talk. Of course, their relationship had not
returned to its romantic side, at least not yet. Beecher was no fool, he
cared for Keller deeply, but he wasn't about to let him know that. He
still was trying to tell himself that he didn't care for him *that* way.
But he knew deep down what the truth was. Despite the deceit and the
physical destruction that Keller had done to him, he still loved him in
the very same way that Keller loved him.

 But what kind of love was it anyway? What kind of love allows one person
to wound the other physically and emotionally? Maybe it was the only kind
of love that could flourish inside of OZ. God knows it couldn't survive
outside of the prison walls.

 Still, Beecher was struggling with his emotions for Keller everyday.

 He shouldn't love him, he shouldn't want to be with him, he shouldn't
*trust* him, and yet he found himself realizing that he did all of those
things, and it made him sick. One night he woke out of a nightmare, only
to find himself faced with the realization, that he was in love with
someone who hurt him more then he'd ever been hurt before. He had known
that all along, but for some reason that night, it literally slapped him
in the face. He was overtaken with despair, and began crying, muffling his
sobs by pressing his face into his pillow.

 When Tobias returned to their pod, his bones still tender, getting used
to walking with a brace on his leg, he was teetering on the edge of
insanity. When he killed Metzger less then an hour later, he had fallen
off the edge. As soon as Keller came back the next day, he pulled him out
of his derangement. And Beecher had been trying to return to that frame of
mind ever since. It was apparent he would not be able to survive in OZ,
the way he was before. Nevertheless, he was returning to his old ways.

 Beecher sighed heavily as he stepped into the laundry room, he glanced
over at the washing machine, he was pressed up against when he and Keller
had kissed. He instinctually walked towards it, but stepped back and went
to the machine next to it. He shook his head in wonder, it's not as though
if he used it, everything would come flooding back, the memory haunted him
daily anyway.

 Beecher pulled out a few of his old t-shirts and threw them inside. He
pulled out a tank top that was Keller's and stared at it before throwing
it into the wash. He then brought it up to his face and breathed in its
scent. He always liked the way Keller smelled, and the tank top smelled
like him - if he hadn't washed for a few days. He threw it in the washing
machine, cursing himself silently for doing that. He picked up the laundry
bag and dumped the rest of the clothes in, along with a cup full of
detergent. He started the wash, and sat down across from it, and opened
the book he started this week. He had been trying to read more regularly
to get his mind off of what was going on in his fucked up life. Reading
offered an escape from OZ even if for only an hour a day.

 * * * * * * * * * *

 Beecher returned to his room an hour later, his book on top of the now
clean clothing in the laundry bag. He opened the door to Keller standing
in a towel, glancing around the room.

 "I did your laundry," Beecher said, walking past him and putting the bag
on Keller's bunk. He began pulling out his book and clothes.

 "I was wondering where my clothes had gone," Keller replied, standing
closely behind Beecher, still wet from his shower.

 "Like you didn't intend for me to wash them," Beecher retorted, turning,
with his folded clothes in his hands.

 "The thought never crossed my mind," Keller grinned back, taking his
clothes out of the bag, once Beecher moved across the room.

 "This is way too normal." Beecher said under his breath. He glanced over
at Keller, who slipped on a clean black wifebeater.

 "Uh, Beecher..."

 "Yeah?"

 "Schillinger's out." Keller looked carefully at Beecher, noticing his
facial expressions hardening.

 "Oh?"

 "Few of the Aryans kind of approached me and told me..." Keller pointed
to his right eye, and Beecher finally noticed the swelling.

 "Oh..." Beecher repeated. "Hmm..."

 He pulled a chair next to the bunk and sat down, opening his book. He
knew Schillinger wasn't going to stay in the hole forever, but he was
unprepared for when he finally did get out. Beecher thought he would have
his revenge planned out by now, instead he was preoccupied with these
stupid feelings for Keller.

 Who was staring at him now. Stop it! I'm trying to read, he thought,
trying to focus on the words.

 "That it?" Keller asked.

 "What?"

 " 'Oh...hmmm?' " He replied, mocking Beecher's tone. Beecher nodded
slowly, meeting Keller's eyes.

 "Yep, for now." Beecher returned to his book, which he finally realized
is upside down.

 "Come on, talk to me, Toby." Keller sat opposite Beecher on his bed.
"What's going on in that head of yours?"

 Beecher closed his book and glared at Keller. "Wouldn't you like to
know."

 Keller nodded, and looked down at the floor. But Beecher only smiled at
him, and opened his book again.

 * * * * * * * * * *

 He did it again, Keller thought, glancing up at Beecher, who continued
reading his book. That eerie smile that never ceased to raise the hairs on
the back of his neck. He did it when he came out of the hospital, he did
it when Keller got out of protective custody, he's done it sporadically
over the course of these past few days. Every time Keller thought they
were getting close to where their relationship has been, Beecher seemed to
put up another wall for Keller to try and break through.

 Not to say the progress they had made over the past few days hadn't been
tremendous. Keller had underestimated Beecher's reluctance to trust him
again, but he was truly surprised that he and Beecher seemed to be at that
same point when Beecher first began to fall in love with him. Keller felt
it too, except this time, there was no plan, no underlining guilt of
knowing that it would all have to end horribly. This time it really was
for real.

 But Keller was still frustrated with Beecher's unwillingness to return to
that side of their relationship. Keller had dreamed of waking up next to
Beecher, and holding him in his arms. When he was thrown in the hole after
their only kiss, it was the only thing he ever thought about. He knew
Beecher had must have thought of it too.

 A few nights ago, Keller heard Beecher wake in the middle of the night,
only to break down and weep. Even though the sobs were low and muffled, it
still tormented Keller's thoughts. Was it a reaction to the same
nightmares he'd always had? Or was this something different?

 Keller thought he knew Beecher pretty well. Maybe he was fooling himself,
however. Because lately, he couldn't figure him out. One minute they would
be joking, the next Keller would look over at Beecher who would be glaring
at him.

 Things were only going to get more complicated.

 Keller had been blocked from leaving the weight room that day by two
Aryans. Who had given him "a little message" from Vern, by ramming his
face into the wall. Schillinger, was in fact, released from the hole that
day.

 Schillinger wanted Keller dead. Keller wasn't inane, he knew ratting him
out was probably the worst possible thing he could have done. Did he
regret doing it? Not yet. He knew if he hadn't confessed, Beecher wouldn't
even be talking to him.

 Beecher. Even *if* he had forgiven Keller for the betrayal, he certainly
did not forgive Schillinger for any of the shit he's done to him.

 Which always brought Keller back to that smile. It wasn't a smile of
happiness, or amusement, or even spite, it was far more daunting. It was
the smile of a man on the brink of madness, and he was afraid that now
that Schillinger was out of the hole, he would be seeing it a lot more.

 * * * * * * * * * *

 "Hey, check it out." Ryan O'Reilly said to Keller, nodding his head over
to a table, while serving him two breaded fish sticks. Keller glanced over
his shoulder, and saw the Aryan brotherhood sitting at a table, with their
leader, Schillinger. "That nazi shit is back."

 "Beecher," Keller said, nudging him with his elbow. Beecher looked over
at the table.

 "Nice," was his only reply. Keller looked at Beecher puzzlingly.

 They carried their trays to a table, with all the Aryans watching Keller,
who was oblivious.

 "Do you have some sort of plan to get Vern that I should know about?"
Keller said in a low tone.

 "Yeah right. Even if I had a plan - I'm going to tell you, so you can go
tell Vern." Beecher snorted as they sat down with Busmalis, Hill and
Rebadow.

 "What the fuck is that crack supposed to mean? You can't really believe
I'm still in cohoots with the Aryans??"

 Beecher shrugged lamely, taking a bite of a fish stick. "Why don't you
tell me what I'm supposed to believe, Chris," he said, still chewing.

 "Where is this coming from, Toby?" Keller asked, leaning in. The table
was silent, and Busmalis and Rebadow, finished with their meals, got up
and left.

 "You sure know how to clear a table."

 "Why are you fucking with me, Toby?!" Keller growled, staring at Beecher.

 "I'm not fucking with you," Beecher replied with a grin.

 "I don't understand why I even try with you. I put my fucking life on the
line - just because...oh, fuck it." Keller went on, while Beecher listened
and watched him, expressionless.

 "I told you to go back into protective custody," Beecher replied without
any feeling.

 Just then, the entire Aryan brotherhood walked by Beecher and Keller,
just glancing over at them blankly. Vern was at the back of the pack,
walking with a pleasant smile, while Keller glared in his direction. They
all walked out of the cafeteria together, Keller watched, looking over his
shoulder.

 "I wonder what that fuck is up to," he said aloud, but Beecher just
continued eating.

 Keller was so confused by Beecher's total change in attitude. He sat
there, studying his face, trying to figure out what was up with him. But
his face wasn't giving anything away, it was like he was completely
hollow. He didn't do anything for him to act like this, did he? At least
not today. Is this a game? Was Beecher playing with him? Did he want to
manipulate him? Because can two play at that game.

 "You're a moody bastard." Keller remarked, smiling coyly at Beecher.
Beecher chewed slowly, staring at Keller. "What's up honey, you on the rag
or something?" Keller took a sip of his juice, and kept smiling. Beecher
didn't reply.

 * * * * * * * * * *

 "LIGHTS OUT!!"

 Keller spat out the toothpaste, and before he could put down his
toothbrush, he felt hands on his bare shoulders, slamming his back against
the wall. 

 "Mmmph!!" Keller groaned as he hit the wall.

 The next thing he felt was Beecher's warm lips on his. But Beecher pulled
away before Keller could even react and he swiftly returned to the top
bunk. Keller stared out of the clear wall in front of him, then turned his
head and looked up to the top bunk, and saw Beecher settling into bed.

 "Toby." Keller said aloud, but there was no response. He decided not to
call him again, but if he wasn't confused before, he was more confused now
then ever. What the fuck?! Is all he could think as he slipped into bed.
What the *fuck*??

 Beecher would be thinking the same thing too, if the brilliance of the
moment hadn't just hit him. He didn't know what he was thinking when he
kissed him. Nor did he know exactly why he did it. But as he scrambled for
his bed, after laying his lips on Keller, it hit him. He's fucking in
charge. He's calling the shots, he's making the rules, he's the one. He
has all the power.

 Why hadn't he realized this before? Easy. Because his emotions had got in
the way. Stupid, fucking feelings for that fucking shit. Fuck them, as
long as he can ignore them, as long as he knew what was important,
revenge, he could manage just fine.

 * * * * * * * * * *

 Keller sauntered into the gym early the next day. He spotted Beecher at a
nearby weight bench lifting light weights. Beecher looked up at Keller and
glared in his direction. Keller took this as a "come on over" signal.

 "Toby, mind tellin' me what that was all about?" Beecher stared up
blankly at Keller, who looked as though he hadn't slept the night before.
"Last night..."

 "What?" Beecher asked innocently. Keller's eyes burned their way into
Beecher's...he looked down at his converse sneakers as he spoke.

 "You know, what," he said in his lowest possible tone. "The fucking
kiss." 

 He glanced up at Beecher who looked like he was chewing the inside of his
cheeks.

 He shrugged at Keller. "No. Stop playing these fucking games."

 Beecher grinned suddenly and Keller snapped. He grabbed Beecher by the
shoulders and shoved him back into the wall.

 "Quit fucking with me Toby." Keller held Beecher's cold stare for one
entire silent minute. He released his grasp on him and swaggered away.

 Beecher was left with red finger marks on his arms where Keller held onto
him tightly, and a certain sense of satisfaction that he was really
getting to Keller.

 On the other side of the gym, Vern Schillinger had witnessed the entire
confrontation, that he had decided had been a lover's spat.

 Fucking weak ass Keller looked like he was falling apart, he thought as
he watched them. He didn't even notice Schillinger and the Aryans and went
straight to Beecher, only to get shot down by the bitch. It would have
even amused him if he didn't hate Beecher so much. Yet still, there was
the fact that Keller had snitched on him, for the reason to somehow prove
himself to Beecher - and he still wasn't getting anywhere with him. Okay,
so maybe it was funny. Just because, well, Keller would be dead soon, and
he died for nothing. He would have died for trying to put something
together with Beecher - he died for him.

 Ain't that sweet? Schillinger thought to himself, putting down the
barbell.

 As it clanked to the ground, Beecher looked up and noticed Schillinger
staring back at him. Vern pursed his lips at Beecher and smirked as he
strode out.