The Marriage of Tobias Beecher by P'al Kwai

17+ for language, images of violence and sexual assualt, and explicit m/m slash.

 

Beecher: If you really love me, then leave me alone.

Keller: I can't.

Beecher: Listen to me, listen to me. I loved alcohol. I loved heroin. I had to put them behind me because they were poison. Death. You are death. Let me live.

Keller: I can't. He whispered the words, before putting both hands around Beecher’s neck.

Beecher: Motherfucker! He yelled, as he pushed against Keller, trying to dislodge the hands around his neck.

Keller: Toby, I love you. Beecher, don't!

-OZ S6 Exeunt Omnes

 

It all had happened in a matter of seconds, as Chris Keller deliberately threw himself over the railing of Em City’s second floor. And Tobias Beecher? Instinctively he grabbed out to the other man to prevent the fall, and as he did, Keller locked onto him. Entangled, the two plunged to an almost certain death.

**

February 24, 2003

The decisive step of Martin Querns, the new warden of Oswald State Correctional Facility, alerts both Dr. Gloria Nathan and Tim McManus to his arrival. Simultaneously, they both take a deep breath, preparing themselves for the inevitable questions and explanations.

“I’ve already heard some of the details of what happened.” Querns cannot be bothered with a customary greeting. “So how are they?” he asks.

“Keller broke his right arm again and has a mild concussion.” Gloria steps between the two beds, looking first at Keller and then Beecher before turning back to Querns. “The man leads a charmed life. Unfortunately, Beecher wasn’t so lucky. He shattered his spine and has severe head trauma. He’s in a coma.”

“Have arrangements been made to transport him to Benchley Memorial?”

Gloria shakes her head in the negative. “No. With a broken spine, it’s too risky to move him, but I do have a neurologist, a Dr. Michaels coming from the hospital to evaluate him.”

“Good.” Querns nods his approval before addressing McManus. “I want a full investigation of what happened.”

“Of course.” McManus agrees while adding. “But I’m betting that it was Keller, who instigated the incident.”

“Really?“ Querns raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “Because according to one eye witness I spoke to, the two were having a heated discussion and it was Beecher, who pushed Keller and then tried to save him by grabbing him at the last second.”

Exchanging a quick look with Gloria, McManus shrugs. Querns always did pick favorites among the prisoners.

**

His head pounds worse than any hang-over headache he experienced, but still, Keller turns his head to stare at Toby. His Toby. He really fucked up this time, and if Toby dies, it would be on his head.

Left hand clenching in anger and frustration, he wants to yell, scream, or hit something. Gnashing his teeth, he sits up slowly, only to find Ryan O'Reily watching him from across the room.

“Careful, pal.” Ryan O’Reily says with his patented smirk. “You’ve got a concussion; moving around won’t help it.”

Keller snorts in disdain, idly contemplating for a instant just what O’Reily is doing in the infirmary besides sniffing after Dr. Nathan. “Fuck you,” he finally spits out. He’s angry, so angry, so he’ll lash out at anyone who comes near him.

“Yeah, right.” O’Reily is unfazed. He knows the whole soap opera of Keller and Beecher, and in some of his bored moments, has actually found their drama a source of amusement. He turns to leave but not before throwing one last comment to Keller. “Funny thing happened in the mail room earlier today. A package arrived containing some kind of deadly powder, killed all the Aryans fucks, who were there.”

**

To the people around him, he lies quietly, making neither sound or movement, but in his mind, he screams, sobs, and relives the nightmares that made up his life in Oz.

Images flash through his brain like a slide show, images of Kathy Rockwell, Andy Schillinger, Carl Metzger. And there are other images, images that play like a short video: lying on a prison bunk, smothering his face in a pillow to keep himself from crying out as Vern Schillinger fucks him ruthlessly up the ass, being held down on a gym mat, while his arms and legs are broken, getting shanked in the side by Schillinger, being pushed down to the floor by Chris Keller, as he begs and pleads to no avail. He tries to cry out, but there’s an unknown weight holding him down, and what feels like concrete in his mouth, which prevent him from screaming out.

**

March 3, 2003

“Another day or two,” Chris pleads with Dr. Nathan. He debates internally if the Keller charm would work on the doctor.

“There is no medical reason to keep you here any longer.” Gloria flips a page over in Keller’s chart, pretending to study it, anything to not have to meet the man’s eyes. Too intense, too disturbing, especially when one is giving him news he doesn’t want to hear.

“I can’t. . .I don’t. . . .” He looks over at the man in the bed next to him, still unconscious, still unmoving.

“Sorry, Keller.” Dr. Nathan is sympathetic, but she has no other choice. She waves a hand at one of the guards. “Escort Mr. Keller back to Em City.”

**

March 7, 2003

The images never stop, and despite the fact that he wasn’t present when Shemin, Browne, or Barlog were killed, he sees their deaths in every bloody, bone snapping detail. He attempts to yell to Keller to stop, but as hard as he tries, no sound comes out of his mouth.

Moaning he feels the men’s pain, as the image morphs to replay the deadly fall of ten days ago. It plays over and over, and each time Toby experiences the painful shattering of his spine. Then suddenly all pain is gone, as he finds himself floating in the air, looking down at his body in the Oz infirmary.

More scenarios pass through his head as he sees how life will go on without him. Few will grieve, some will be relieved, others will be indifferent, but one, one will take it hard. So hard, that his rage will burst forth, and the number of victims that had fell to him in the past will now be tripled. His savagery will be boundless, as man after man will die horrible, tortured death.

The image of so many butchered mercilessly has Tobias Beecher waking up with a start with the name Chris Keller on his lips.

**

“He needs to go to solitary!” Tim McManus’ voice raises a notch, as both hands grip the edge of Warden Querns’ desk.

“On what grounds do I place him in solitary?” Leaning back in his chair, Querns is calm and collected, a major contrast to McManus’ agitation. “Keller has certainly caused some trouble, but human rights activists would be at my throat if I unjustly threw a man in solitary for some minor infractions.”

“Minor infractions?” McManus can’t believe his ears. “You call starting a riot. . .never mind.” He shakes his head in frustration. Despite the fact the Keller is white, he, for some unknown reason, is on Querns’ favored list. “All right then, but I want him out of Oz. Put him back in Unit B.” And let him become someone else’s headache. He finishes silently to himself.

“Out of the question.” Querns denies his second request. “Tobias Beecher has awaken from his coma, and. . . .”

“What?” McManus’ voice raises again. “Why wasn’t I informed of this?”

“Why do you think I called you into my office?” Querns says smugly. He so loves to play power games with McManus. “And as I was saying, Beecher has been asking for Keller, and since Keller has been. . .shall we say, pining for his. . . Beecher, I figure who better to care for him. Dr. Nathan tells me that Beecher is going to need someone to aid him for some time, and I can’t think of anyone more suited for the job than Keller, which, by the way, should keep him busy, too busy to be making more trouble.”

“Do Dr. Nathan and Sister Pete know of this decision?”

“But of course; they’re both behind it one hundred percent.”

**

March 24, 2003

Sitting in a wheelchair next to Rebadow, Tobias Beecher watches with one eye on the card game being played before him, and one eye on the other prisoners, who are busy enjoying their modicum of freedom before being locked away in their glass cells.

“Check this out, Beech?” Ryan O’ Reily holds his cards out, so Toby can see them. “A sure winner.”

A short nod is Toby’s acknowledgement, as he returns to scanning Em City.

“Don’t upset yourself.” Rebadow misinterprets Toby’s preoccupation. “Chris will be back soon. McManus and the hacks know that he shouldn’t be away from you for too long.”

“Yeah, and in the meantime. . . .” O’Reily places a comforting hand on Toby’s knee. “We’re on the job.” He motions to the other three men at the table, AgamemnonBusmalis, Miguel Alvarez, and Robert Rebadow.

“That’s right, Beecher.” Alvarez arranges the cards in his hands. “Two old geezers and a spic and a mick are watching yo’ back. Feeling real safe and secure, are ya?”

Toby smiles ever so slightly, which nowadays is a rare occurrence.

“Fuck you,” O’Reily directs the insult at Alvarez. He’s offended that he’s not seen as a threat. “I can take care of Beech by myself. The only thing you three would contribute is to call for help.”

“But the question is. . . .” Rebadow throws a matchstick in the middle of the table. “Why would you risk your neck for Beecher?”

At Rebadow’s straight-to-the-heart-of-the-matter question, even Toby looks at O’Reily with interest because why would the self-serving Irishman concern himself with his welfare.

“It’s a long, involved story, gentlemen.” O’Reily matches Rebadow’s bet and ups him one more.

“We’ve got time.” Busmailis also throws in another matchstick. “None of us are going anywhere soon.”

“Okay, here’s the Reader’s Digest version. I made a promise to Keller to help him with your ass.” O’Reily glances over at Beecher before throwing two of his cards at Alvarez, the dealer. “And now if I don’t keep said promise, I’ll have Killer Keller gunning for me. And hey, I’m smart enough to know that it’s better for my health to be on the good side of him.”

Toby studies O’Reily for a moment, trying to detect sincerity on him because he knows that the Irishman fears no one. “And what did Keller give up to you for said promise?”

“Gloria Nathan.”

“What?” Four voices exclaim at the same time.

“Relax, gentlemen.” O’Reily says with a smirk. “It’s not what you think. But anyone, who cares for you.” He again looks over at Beecher. “Has to have some special tutoring from the doctor herself. She was adamant that we get it right.” He gives Toby a wink.

“Training?” Toby is astounded. This is the first time he hears of this. “What kind of training?”

“You know.” O’Reily shrugs. “How you should be lifted, what to do if you like fall or something, how to help you in the shower, the usual stuff.”

“And besides yourself, who else received this training?”

“Keller’s the only other one, and he allowed me because we have a history, and he knows that I’ve got no beef against you.” O’Reily throws his cards down in disgust. His bluff doesn’t work, as Alvarez refused to fold and ends up winning the hand.

“Allowed you?” Toby’s voice has become softer, as anger rises in him, but none of the men at the table notice.

“Yep, refuses to have anyone besides myself help. He’s not the trusting type, you know.” O’Reily motions for Rebadow to deal another hand.

Simmering, Toby closes his eyes for a minute, willing his rage down. He is the one with the broken spine, yet it seems that no one bothered to ask him what he wanted. But what did you expect? A small voice tells him. You take a vow with Chris Keller, and he’ll own you body and soul.

Opening his eyes, he sees the man of his thoughts entering Em City. His body hard, his eyes glacial cold, Chris Keller, or Killer Keller as he is now known strides through the prison. Authorities suspect, perhaps know, that he is guilty of numerous murders, including the many Aryans, who died in the mail room, but they are helpless to do anything about it. No hard evidence. The prisoners in Oz don’t suspect, they know for fact of his many deadly deeds; thus, the new nickname Killer Keller (a name which Beecher himself first coined.)

“Hey, baby.” Keller greets the one person who matters to him first. “You okay? Cause you look. . .tired.” He runs his hand through Beecher’s thick hair. It’s long now, just the way he likes it.

“I’m all right.” Beecher reassures him. His anger is gone, replaced with resignation.

To have and to hold from this day forward.

**

March 25, 2003

“No fucking way!”

His posture suggests casualness, but Toby knows that means nothing. Chris Keller is a deceptive bastard. “Chris,” he says in a placatory tone, as he glances over at Head Correctional Officer, Sean Murphy, and the flunky officer behind him. “It’s standard procedure. You know that it’s Sister Pete’s job to evaluate prisoners, who have been seriously injured.”

“I’ll take good care of him, Keller.” Murphy’s impatience is rising. “I’ll personally escort him to Sister Pete’s office and back. Nothing will happen to him.”

“Fuck that!” Keller’s also beginning to lose patience, although his body still falsely conveys an air of negligence.

“Chris!” Toby raises his voice to a shout, which finally has the others noticing him. He’s tired of everyone discussing him, as if he wasn’t in the room. “Just stop before you’re thrown in the hole.” Briefly he wonders why that concerns him so much. After all if Keller gets thrown in the hole, then he finally gets some much needed space.

“You forget. . . .” Keller’s gaze skims over Beecher before returning to Murphy. “That Dr. Nathan released you from the infirmary on the condition that either I or O’Reily are with you at all times.”

“Yeah, that is what the doc ordered.” Murphy runs a hand through his hair, as he remembers Nathan’s stipulations on Beecher. “All right, Keller, come along. I guess Sister Pete is going to get a two for one today.” He steps aside, holding the door open with his body, as he motions them through.

Beecher sighs silently to himself. He had hoped for some private conversation with Sister Pete, but Keller is possessive and not about to give an inch to anyone.

The walk from Em City to Sister Pete’s office is done in silence, as they are escorted by the flunky only. Murphy decided to stay back. He had enough of Keller’s charm for the day. Reaching the Sister’s office, she waves them in with a smile.

“Tobias,” she greets Beecher with genuine pleasure on her face, as Keller maneuvers him and his chair through the doorway. “It’s been too long. We’ve should have talked days ago. Chris.” Sister Pete welcomes Keller with a smile too. “Thank you for bring Tobias today. Will you be returning for him?”

“I’m not leaving him,” Keller states, as he explores Pete’s office, touching and examining whatever catches his eye.

“Chris.” Sister Pete uses the same placatory tone that Toby had used earlier. “My session with Tobias is private and confidential. You cannot stay.”

“And my orders from Dr. Nathan are to watch over Toby at all times. . .Sis-ter.” Keller smiles, but the smile never reaches his eyes.

“Chris.” Beecher now has pleading tone in his voice. Keller keeps pushing and that doesn’t bode well. “Stand outside the door, so Sister Pete can do her thing.”

“I’ll be brief.” Sister Pete is quick to reassure him.

Keller realizes that he’s been maneuvered into a corner, so reluctantly, he moves toward the door, but not before he has the last word, “don’t close the blinds.”

“Tobias.” Sister Pete’s expression immediately turns to concern, as the door closes behind Keller. “What is going on?”

“Keller doesn’t want to share me.” Beecher quips, trying to make his mouth form a smile.

“Toby.” Sister Pete draws his name out slowly. He understands what’s on her mind without her having to say it.

“It’s my lot in life,” he blurts out, as he shrugs, conveying his acceptance of his situation. At that moment, Keller’s voice is heard loud and clear as he shouts a few insults at another prisoner walking by. Both the Sister and Toby are drawn to look out the window, where Keller, seeing he has their attention, crosses his eyes, and then gives them a grin.

“God give me strength,” Sister Pete mutters, as she moves away from her desk to sit on the settee on the other side of the room. From that position, she’s at least not directly in Keller’s line of sight. “This isn’t a healthy situation for you. Chris Keller is. . . .”

“You don’t need to tell me what Chris Keller is,” Beecher interrupts. He’s already heard her speeches on Keller and doesn’t want to hear them again. “Obviously if I could change my circumstances, I would, but I’m tied to Keller now, and there’s no way out for me.”

“No way out? That’s a drastic conclusion. Tell me, do you feel that you have to be tied to Keller for your safety?” As soon as the question comes out of her mouth, Pete realizes how stupid it is.

“Sister,” Beecher gently reprimands. “As you well know, safety is always one’s chief concern in Oz, and in my condition. . . .” He spreads his hands to encompass his wheelchair. “It’s even more of a concern. But there’s more to my situation than that. Keller.” He pauses a moment. “Keller told me the day we fell that he was responsible for screwing my parole; he couldn’t live in here without me. He won’t let me be. He’ll never let me be, and he’ll kill anyone, who stands in the way of what he wants. Anyone.” He gives Pete a telling stare.

“But there must be something that can be done. Talk to Querns, have him transfer Keller to. . . .”

“That won’t help!” Beecher again interrupts. “He’ll con, manipulate, and kill to get what he wants, and he wants me. Besides, Querns tends to favor Chris. Why? I don’t know.”

“So what? That’s it?”

Beecher can only smile sadly.

For better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.

**

Lying in his bunk, Beecher waits for lights out. The solid body of Keller is pressed up against him; he feels safe and secure.

“So what did Pete have to say?” Chris asks, his voice is quiet, sounding drowsy.

“She did her evaluation, and that’s, that’s it,” Beecher equivocates. The last thing he wants is to put Sister Pete in Keller's line of fire.”

Moments pass, and Toby is ready to sigh in relief that the subject is dropped. Glancing over, he checks to see if Keller has fallen asleep, but although his eyes are closed, he’s still obviously awake.

“I had this brilliant idea,” Chris finally speaks. “When you’re recovered enough for work detail, I’ll have you assigned to helping me with machine repair. The better to keep my eye on you,” he says with a kiss on Toby’s temple.

“But,” Toby starts to protest and then stops. He knows Keller's strategy. It’s a strategy used by cult leaders the world over. Isolate your followers from any outside influences. Keep them close because it keeps them yours.

“Give you something new to learn, and be good therapy for you.”

“How will it be good therapy for me?” Toby asks, as he feels Keller's arm tighten around him.

“Work with your hands. After that spine of yours heals, any kind of movements will be good for you.”

“I see.” Toby wonders how Keller suddenly became a spinal injury expert. At that moment, one of the hacks yells, “lights out.” As he closes his eyes to sleep, he hears the words repeat themselves over and over in his head;

to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part.

****

Continue to Part 2

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