![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
drsquidloveSomeone Like You
by Dr Squidlove
drsquidlove @@@ livejournal.com
Oz/Law & Order: SVU crossover
Tobias Beecher's trying to rebuild his family in the shadow of the man he was in prison. Elliot Stabler's struggling to continue in the wake of divorce while his job eats away at his soul. It makes for an odd friendship, but it works.
Beecher/Stabler, Beecher/anonymous fucks, a living history of Beecher/Keller and Elliot Stabler/Kathy Stabler.
Just to be super-clear, this is not a WIP. It's done. It is complete, and unless I get hit by a bus, it will be posted every week to the end. Mostly twice a week, but at least once.
Rated R for violence and explicit references to sexual violence.
Wordcount this post: 4096
Full headers are on chapter 1.
Oz is the property of Tom Fontana and HBO. Law & Order: SVU is the property of Dick Wolf and NBC. The characters are used without permission, but with much appreciation.
Someone Like You
chapter 3: A social life
by Dr Squidlove
Previously, in chapter 2, No vices left:
Toby got all dressed up for another round of cheap dirty sex, but couldn't bring himself to go. Elliot found out his almost ex-wife is dating, and didn't take it well. Elliot and Olivia went back to re-interview Toby. Elliot was surprised to learn that Toby has a daughter, and that Toby was a victim of rape. With some prodding Toby admitted that he had a rough but consensual sexual history with their murder suspect.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Toby had been fighting this itch since he left Elliot Stabler on the doorstep of his building. He'd told himself he'd kicked alcohol and drugs and he could keep away from this not-quite-Chris. Toby knew he was in deep trouble, because he'd barely thought of martinis or the bliss of heroin in the last two months, and all his idle thoughts of going back to Franco's had stayed idle. Instead he'd been consumed with composing a thousand excuses for calling Elliot Stabler. Sister Pete would be proud, because he'd resisted every time.
Until now. Toby stared up at the courthouse until the taxi driver asked him if he was okay. Toby slid out, forced himself to stroll up the steps like this suit wasn't some sort of costume. Nikos Perro's trial for the murder of Leo Markstrom concluded today. Nikos Perro, known to Toby as 'Mike', or just as a solidly satisfying fuck.
Up through the doors and the metal detectors, waiting for someone to yell and a phalanx of officers to fall on him, to beat him and drag him back to his cell.
Toby didn't even know if Detective Clone was going to be here today. Who knew if a detective had time to sit around in court once his testimony was done? That slim question was what made this okay, because if Stabler might not be here, Toby must be here for the conviction.
He wandered the corridors between rushing clerks and worried civilians and way too many guards until he found the right courtroom. He hovered at the door, and then backed up and took a seat on a bench outside.
It took a whole lot of imagination to pretend that sidewalk interrogation had been anything like talking to Chris, but Toby had taken that face and body and the way Stabler had leaned in to hear more about Holly, and maybe it had been a little like the way Chris badgered him for stories when Toby came to visit him on death row. He'd taken the way Stabler snapped about Toby calling him lucky and tweaked it - a harsher tone, the lip curled in a sneer, and there were Chris's familiar hackles.
When Toby really wanted something to savour he remembered the rush when almost-Chris rubbed his shoulder. For a split second Toby had braced himself for the revelation: to hear a soft, 'It's me, Tobe, didn't think I'd leave the mortal coil without you, did you?' That was when the detective lost any chance of Toby sharing details of the man who pounded his ass. At least until Holly arrived, bringing Detective Benson and the crash of reality.
Toby wanted Chris again. Even if it was just a curt dismissal in the corridor, he would fold it into his fantasies.
Toby had a list of questions, and he'd barely restrained himself from writing them all out on index cards to keep in his pocket. Did Stabler have any brothers? Any secret twins? Did he have any idea there'd been a doppelganger out there in the world? What made him choose to be a cop, rather than a professional conman? Toby had had to remind himself that he'd be lucky if he got anything more than that curt dismissal now the case was done. Even if Stabler spared him a few minutes, Toby was hardly going to ask any of those questions. If Stabler was here at all. Toby stared up at the doors, and wondered how much attention it would draw if he poked his head in.
The doors swung open and Toby was on his feet. People trickled out, fresh strange faces with every swing of the door until Stabler sauntered through, chin high. Even the fourth time, it was like leaning over that balcony, watching Chris's broken body draw breath. Toby caught his own breath when he saw Stabler had his left arm in a sling, but there was no cast. The good detective hadn't broken his arm coming off his motorbike after a hold-up.
The neatly-suited red-head with him had the aura of an ADA, and the pair of them looked pleased. Toby was wondering how to break in when Stabler saw Toby across the corridor and smiled, no idea how it stoked the fire. And more, when he excused himself to come over.
"Guilty, then?" asked Toby.
"All counts. You know you could have gone in?"
"And make another enemy in the state correctional system? No thanks." Stare up at another cunt judge, passing judgement? Hell, no. "I just wanted to make sure he's done."
Stabler bought his response without a blink. "He's done." Toby supposed his excuse was more obvious than 'You look like my dead lover and this was the least suspicious reason I could find for seeing you again.' Though Toby hadn't got as far as planning how to string this meeting out, and now there was an awkward silence stretching. Toby couldn't ask him to lunch. The detective would think Toby wanted to fuck him. Which he did, but he wasn't that much of an optimist. He just wanted to stare at Chris Keller in a starched shirt and tie. And a sling. "What happened to your arm?"
He raised his eyebrows. "Would you believe I was shot in the elbow by Nazis?"
Toby almost choked. "Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"I hate Nazis."
Toby meant it, but Stabler chuckled. "I'm not too fond of them myself."
Toby had stumbled into some crazed parallel universe. He'd actually managed to connect, but any moment Stabler was going to check his watch and-
Stabler checked his watch. "Hey, listen. I've got some time, and I'm in no rush to get back to desk duty. You want to catch a bite?"
Toby reeled. Stabler just asked him. "Yeah. Yes. That'd be great." He could hardly believe it. "I'm guessing you know what's good around here."
"'Good' might be taking it a little far, but I know a place." He swung on that same navy coat he'd been wearing when Toby first saw him outside Franco's, draping it over the shoulder with the sling. In Oz Toby had never thought to imagine Chris dressed up; his occasional fantasies of a real life never stretched beyond relaxing at home in jeans, or better yet, leisurely naked sleep-ins that wouldn't be interrupted for count. Chris would have looked good enough to eat, in a shirt and tie and navy overcoat.
The diner was just around the corner, a few hundred yards of New York slush and they were shrugging their coats off again as they stepped into the sudden heat. Toby tried not to stare as Stabler slid into his seat, as he picked up the menu with his free hand and scanned it, had his choice picked out and the menu discarded before his eyes hit the bottom of the page. The same leisurely comfort in his own space as Chris, making Toby wonder if this detective had the same desperation and fear beneath, or a whole different set of insecurities. What kept the good guys awake at night?
Stabler rearranged his arm in the sling, and a band of pale skin caught Toby's eye. His wedding ring was gone.
"The burgers are tolerable. Keep away from the mac cheese."
Chris liked mac cheese day.
Stabler gave the waitress his order, and Toby asked for the same so he didn't have to give up studying his companion. "So what is it people in the world talk about these days?" Toby couldn't figure out why Stabler had invited him out. Maybe he thought Toby had information on something else. Maybe he wanted to save him from his degenerate life. Toby didn't care, would gladly drag out the chit chat, cataloguing the similarities until Stabler got to the point. Maybe Stabler's nose was a little sharper, his cheeks a little thinner, but his eyes were exactly the same shifting shades of blue.
"Work, mostly. But I'd rather not." Stabler shrugged. "We can talk about your job."
"Administrative assistant for a real estate attorney."
"Sounds interesting." His tone said otherwise.
"It's a better job than most parolees can hope for." It was like going back to remedial school for a corporate contract lawyer. Toby didn't know if it was a blessing or a curse, being this close to the job he used to be so good at, but it beat the hell out of everything he would have found on the banks at the parole office.
Elliot unrolled his knife and fork from the paper napkin. "How was your Christmas?"
It was surreal. Instead of looking forward to an extra hour of visiting time before choking down tinned turkey, he'd woken to Holly bouncing on his bed with a carefully-wrapped present. "It was perfect. How was yours?"
Stabler's eyes cut away. "Quiet." Of course it was - he'd just taken off his wedding ring. It was probably the hardest Christmas he'd ever had.
"Tell me about your kids. How many do you have?"
"Four. Three girls and a boy." He took out his wallet and paused, like he'd just remembered this wasn't just some guy from work. Toby waited, and finally Stabler flipped it open and pushed it across.
Toby almost couldn't look. The idea of little Chris Kellers... He leaned over the photos. None of them looked like Chris, not even the boy. If Chris had had kids, he would have loved them more fiercely, more protectively than he loved Toby, but that wouldn't have made him a good father. "Twins?"
"Yeah. Dickie and Lizzie; they turn thirteen next month. That's Maureen; she's twenty-one, and Kathleen's seventeen."
They were older than Toby expected. "You started young."
"Too young. But they turned out pretty good."
"Your house must be a zoo." Toby missed it. Holly and Gary squabbling over toys, Harry crying, Genevieve singing to soothe him. Holly was so quiet now, and too often she wasn't there at all.
"It was." Stabler hesitated, and Toby held his breath for the confidence. "Their mother and I are separated."
Toby nodded. "I noticed the ring was gone." So it hadn't been a string of divorces. Stabler had been a solid family man, until it finally crumbled.
He looked down at his left hand, spread his fingers. "It took a while to take it off." His hands were just right. Probably had the same weight-lifting calluses, judging by those thick, powerful shoulders. Chris's rough hands had been exquisite on Toby's sensitive cock.
Their burgers showed up and they tucked in. Stabler slipped out of his sling and lifted his shoulders at Toby's look. "I'm out of it in a week, thank god." He wolfed his food down like a hungry guy, no sense of show. When his tongue darted out to catch stray drips of sauce it was totally unselfconscious, no idea of how Toby imagined chasing it inside. Chris had always known, used to chase every lick with a glance, just to prove he had Toby's attention.
Toby wondered if Stabler had been screwing women the way Toby had been fucking men, or if he'd been keeping it in his pants. Which led to Toby imagining Stabler taking care of himself. Chris had been an exhibitionist; if Toby couldn't satisfy him, Chris'd lie in his bunk and tell Toby all about it as he tugged his own cock. Toby didn't think Stabler would be like that.
"When did you split with your wife?"
"We separated just over a year ago."
Not out of the blue after laying his eyes on Toby, tugged by an inexplicable past life memory.
He let out a breath, rubbed his eyebrow. Even the angle of his eyebrows was just right. "I still can't believe how empty the apartment is when I wake up in the morning. Can't believe I used to grouse about getting them ready for school. Now it's every second weekend, and dinner whenever I can find the time."
Four months ago, Toby would have counted that as unimaginable luxury. "I know how it is. You're supposed to be around to help your kids with their homework every night, to see them coming and going with their friends, and instead it's all formal appointments for awkward small talk and you realise you sound like your Aunt Mona doing the annual Christmas interrogation, and you don't understand how you can try so hard and still know so little about their lives."
Stabler stared at him like he'd just uncovered some kind of deep, dark secret, instead of describing the nightly angst of every absent father. "It doesn't seem like that between you and Holly."
"That's all Holly and I had for years. It's what I still have with my son one weekend a month, if I'm lucky."
"You have a son?"
"Harry's nine. He lives with my wife's parents in San Diego." Toby pulled a photo from his own wallet.
Stabler took a good, long look. "He's handsome."
"He has his mother's genes." Genevieve's dark hair and eyes, that same cool beauty. He took back the picture for another look. It was the two of them from the week after Toby got out, Harry stiffly bearing Toby's arm around his shoulders. In photos Toby could see a resemblance: something in the shape of his face, the turn of his mouth, but in person it seemed to disappear. "He came over for the Christmas break and I grilled him for details about his life, but I've never met any of his friends, never been to his school."
"Why is he with your in-laws?"
"When Gen died, my parents took Holly and... but they couldn't take care of a baby. My children were split up."
Stabler grimaced. "I'm sorry."
Toby shrugged. Just one more piece of damage.
"But you're out now."
"Yeah?"
"Why is Harry still with your in-laws?"
Toby gritted his teeth. "He wasn't even twelve months old when I went in. He never laid eyes on me until he was seven."
"So you get to know him. One weekend a month isn't going to do that."
He was here to pretend he was talking to Chris, not to have his decisions questioned by someone who didn't know the first thing about his life. "They're the only parents he's known." Jonah and Marta had never forgiven Toby for what he did to their daughter and grandchildren, but they loved Harry and they were raising him well. Holly wanted to be with Toby, and in their own fucked up way, they were good for each other. Harry was another story.
"Toby, he's your blood."
Toby froze. Even his heart held, for half a second. It had been years, but Stabler's voice reached back and Toby could smell prison soap, taste the memory of Chris's inexplicable interest in caring for Toby, and his own naive affections. Chris had been right about seeing them then, but Stabler wasn't. This second-rate copy didn't get to tell him how to be a father. "You think I haven't wrenched my heart out over this decision? He's happy where he is, and I've done enough damage. I'm not going to tear up his life to make me whole." Toby swallowed, calmed his voice. "I'm hoping he'll come to high school in New York. He likes math, so maybe Stuyvesant, maybe Brooklyn Tech." It was a long shot, but hope wasn't rational.
Stabler stabbed his fries, and Toby shut his mouth. This was the judgement he'd been waiting for. Stabler's jaw was working, chewing on his anger. One minute he was a million miles from the lover Toby ached for, the next it was like Chris was sitting right here, and Toby wanted to touch him.
"You should tell me to shut the hell up."
Toby shook his head. That didn't sound like Chris at all.
"You've done a good job with Holly. I've seen plenty of kids who've been through bad experiences and had a harder time adjusting."
"That was my parents, not me." What the hell did Stabler know about how Holly was adjusting, anyway?
He wasn't backing down. "You must be doing something right. Olivia said she was very protective of you."
"Your partner? She didn't seem to like me."
"She was just doing her job."
Toby leaned in. "What did they talk about?" Holly had just shrugged and told him nothing.
"Liv said Holly just kept asking about you. If we were mad at you. If we were going to put you in jail."
Toby wondered how long it would be before Holly really trusted that he was home for good. Longer than Toby, maybe. "I vouched for you, so if you ever decide you want to arrest me, you make sure someone else puts the cuffs on, okay?"
"You think I'm going to arrest you for something?"
It had crossed Toby's mind that that might be what this was about. "I stopped believing my life couldn't be fucked up again a long time ago, but you can call off the tail, Detective Stabler; I won't even j-walk, these days."
"I'm not here to arrest you. And you're not my witness anymore. You can call me Elliot."
But can I call you Chris, Toby wondered?
Elliot leaned on his elbow, eyes wide and blue. "It must be a hell of a job, rebuilding your life, Tobias."
Chris had never called him that. "Friends call me Toby."
"Toby." He didn't say it right. He made it just a name, without the needy growl or the bite of patience growing short. "Eight years is a long time to spend inside. I've seen plenty of guys walk out with good intentions, and never get half as far as you have."
Toby wondered if Elliot was counting Franco's in his measure of success.
"Seriously, Toby. You've got a steady job, a good relationship with your daughter. You had the balls to come and help us ID Markstrom's killer. That's not nothing. I wish I could hope for this kind of a future for more of the people I deal with."
"You're not talking about ex-cons. You're talking about rape victims."
Elliot held his ground. "Not a lot of men can admit they were raped."
Was that what this was about? "In prison, it isn't exactly classified information."
Is that how he could hold Elliot's attention? Play the victim? Toby had whored better parts of himself for less, but he doubted that was anything to hope for, here.
Toby pushed Elliot back to talking about his kids. Elliot obliviously played along, rambling about teaching them to play basketball and baseball. He'd taken the twins to see a Jets game just before Christmas. As Elliot talked about football the sentences muddied together, and Toby found himself watching his lips curl around the words, letting Chris's voice wash over him. Chris rarely talked about sports. He played whatever was going but never small-talked about teams. For all his expertise in wrestling, he'd never once mentioned a professional wrestler. Chris hadn't had any interest in watching other people doing anything he couldn't manipulate. He could watch Toby for hours.
Elliot checked his watch. "Dammit. I have to get back to work."
And there was the wrench of comedown, faster and harder than any drug Toby had taken. No one was going to be dealing this one on Toby's street corner. "Well. Thanks for this. I don't think I knew how much I needed it." Now he knew exactly how much he wanted it.
"A mediocre burger?"
"An adult conversation. This is the first time I've had lunch with someone who wasn't immediate family since I got out."
"It's the first time I've eaten with someone who wasn't family or a cop in longer than that."
"When you suggested lunch I thought you were taking the long road around to interrogate me."
Elliot smiled. "I was just wondering how you were doing." Elliot hesitated, looking awkward. Not like Chris. "You want to do this again? Next week, maybe?"
"Yeah." Toby hoped he kept the exclamation mark out of his voice.
"Do you have my card?"
Of course he did - softened and worn, stuffed in his pocket right now, where his fingers could find it and worry it for a little fix whenever he needed it. "I'm not sure, maybe somewhere..."
Elliot dug out another. "Here."
Toby would keep this one pristine. Under glass, maybe. One to touch, one to admire from afar. Chris and Elliot, made of three-and-a-half-by-two paper. "I used to have cards." He grabbed a napkin, took the pen Elliot offered and wrote his own number down. Wondered if he would lose his parole for thieving a pen from an officer of the law.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Elliot didn't call. Toby didn't realise how high his hopes had risen until they crashed.
Elliot had probably just been being polite when he said he wanted to meet up again. Or maybe he did some digging on Toby, hadn't liked what he found. Or maybe Toby was just forgotten already.
Chris's voice suggested maybe the detective was having second thoughts about regular lunches with an ex-con who got on his knees for any thug who'd shove him around.
Yeah, well. Toby could happily report he hadn't been doing any of that lately. Leo Markstrom's murder had soured that hobby.
Toby knew what Chris would do with the men who'd left their fingerprints over Toby in Franco's. He didn't know what he'd make of Elliot.
Would you snap his neck too, Chris? Or would you sit back with your hand stuffed in your pants, egging me on to fuck the look-alike, prove all over again that you own me, even from beyond the grave?
It was a ridiculous question; of course Chris would want to watch him with Elliot. Fucking narcissist.
A smile snuck up, unbidden. If only Toby could give him that show. And thank god Toby would never have to find out what Chris would do to Elliot afterwards.
"Did you need the bathroom, Dad? I'm going to have a shower."
Toby's head jerked up as his hips jerked away to face the sink. "No, Hol, you're fine." He picked up the cloth, pretended he'd been wiping something.
"Hey, do we have any old magazines? I have to take some to school tomorrow."
Toby blinked. "It's seven-thirty. You couldn't have mentioned that earlier?"
"I forgot."
"I don't think we have any. I'll give you money to buy something in the morning."
"Thanks, Dad."
She trotted off to the bathroom, twisting her long hair up into a little blonde top-knot to keep it dry. Toby was supposed to be thinking of her, not Elliot or Chris or some unholy merging of the two. She was supposed to be the difference. Think of Holly, make good choices: that was his mantra since the day he walked out. How could he have Holly in his life and still have a part of him yearn for a six-by-ten glass pod?
Elliot complicated things. Elliot easy to talk to: a father finding his way on his own. Toby could talk to him and think of Holly and think of Chris all at the same time. Toby didn't know how he was getting away with it. Elliot Stabler was supposed to be a hard-nosed detective, untrusting of anyone without a badge, and especially of the refuse that trickled out of the correctional system. It should have taken more than the empathy of another father to coax him out.
But Elliot had made the offer. He'd given Toby his card. There was no reason why Toby couldn't call. If he waited longer, Holly would be out of the shower, and he might not have another chance until tomorrow. Toby pulled out his phone.
"Stabler." Brisk and professional.
"Detective. Hi. It's Tobias Beecher."
"Oh. Toby." He sounded irritated. "I've been meaning to call you, but it's been a hellish week." The phone muffled as Elliot covered it to talk to someone. A few words of that familiar voice were enough to stir Toby. He wanted one more lunch. One more half hour to stare at that face and pretend Chris was playing oblivious to Toby's smoking stare just to tease. "Listen, I can't talk right now, and I'm going to be tied up for a while. Can I call you when I'm free?"
"Sure."
"Sorry, Toby."
"Don't worry about it."
Elliot hung up, and Toby put his phone down. That was that. Don't call me. I'll call you.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
end chapter 3
And, once again:
Dr Squidlove inappropriately touches all feedback. Concrit thoroughly welcome, warm fuzzies treasured.
This lj is fic-only. If you want to follow the story, you can friend this without me cluttering your feed with any boring RL posts.
The complete works of Dr Squidlove can be found at The Lecherous Tentacles of Dr Squidlove:
http://members.iinet.net.au/~tentacles/squidfic.html
S.
by Dr Squidlove
drsquidlove @@@ livejournal.com
Oz/Law & Order: SVU crossover
Tobias Beecher's trying to rebuild his family in the shadow of the man he was in prison. Elliot Stabler's struggling to continue in the wake of divorce while his job eats away at his soul. It makes for an odd friendship, but it works.
Beecher/Stabler, Beecher/anonymous fucks, a living history of Beecher/Keller and Elliot Stabler/Kathy Stabler.
Just to be super-clear, this is not a WIP. It's done. It is complete, and unless I get hit by a bus, it will be posted every week to the end. Mostly twice a week, but at least once.
Rated R for violence and explicit references to sexual violence.
Wordcount this post: 4096
Full headers are on chapter 1.
Oz is the property of Tom Fontana and HBO. Law & Order: SVU is the property of Dick Wolf and NBC. The characters are used without permission, but with much appreciation.
Someone Like You
chapter 3: A social life
by Dr Squidlove
Previously, in chapter 2, No vices left:
Toby got all dressed up for another round of cheap dirty sex, but couldn't bring himself to go. Elliot found out his almost ex-wife is dating, and didn't take it well. Elliot and Olivia went back to re-interview Toby. Elliot was surprised to learn that Toby has a daughter, and that Toby was a victim of rape. With some prodding Toby admitted that he had a rough but consensual sexual history with their murder suspect.
Toby had been fighting this itch since he left Elliot Stabler on the doorstep of his building. He'd told himself he'd kicked alcohol and drugs and he could keep away from this not-quite-Chris. Toby knew he was in deep trouble, because he'd barely thought of martinis or the bliss of heroin in the last two months, and all his idle thoughts of going back to Franco's had stayed idle. Instead he'd been consumed with composing a thousand excuses for calling Elliot Stabler. Sister Pete would be proud, because he'd resisted every time.
Until now. Toby stared up at the courthouse until the taxi driver asked him if he was okay. Toby slid out, forced himself to stroll up the steps like this suit wasn't some sort of costume. Nikos Perro's trial for the murder of Leo Markstrom concluded today. Nikos Perro, known to Toby as 'Mike', or just as a solidly satisfying fuck.
Up through the doors and the metal detectors, waiting for someone to yell and a phalanx of officers to fall on him, to beat him and drag him back to his cell.
Toby didn't even know if Detective Clone was going to be here today. Who knew if a detective had time to sit around in court once his testimony was done? That slim question was what made this okay, because if Stabler might not be here, Toby must be here for the conviction.
He wandered the corridors between rushing clerks and worried civilians and way too many guards until he found the right courtroom. He hovered at the door, and then backed up and took a seat on a bench outside.
It took a whole lot of imagination to pretend that sidewalk interrogation had been anything like talking to Chris, but Toby had taken that face and body and the way Stabler had leaned in to hear more about Holly, and maybe it had been a little like the way Chris badgered him for stories when Toby came to visit him on death row. He'd taken the way Stabler snapped about Toby calling him lucky and tweaked it - a harsher tone, the lip curled in a sneer, and there were Chris's familiar hackles.
When Toby really wanted something to savour he remembered the rush when almost-Chris rubbed his shoulder. For a split second Toby had braced himself for the revelation: to hear a soft, 'It's me, Tobe, didn't think I'd leave the mortal coil without you, did you?' That was when the detective lost any chance of Toby sharing details of the man who pounded his ass. At least until Holly arrived, bringing Detective Benson and the crash of reality.
Toby wanted Chris again. Even if it was just a curt dismissal in the corridor, he would fold it into his fantasies.
Toby had a list of questions, and he'd barely restrained himself from writing them all out on index cards to keep in his pocket. Did Stabler have any brothers? Any secret twins? Did he have any idea there'd been a doppelganger out there in the world? What made him choose to be a cop, rather than a professional conman? Toby had had to remind himself that he'd be lucky if he got anything more than that curt dismissal now the case was done. Even if Stabler spared him a few minutes, Toby was hardly going to ask any of those questions. If Stabler was here at all. Toby stared up at the doors, and wondered how much attention it would draw if he poked his head in.
The doors swung open and Toby was on his feet. People trickled out, fresh strange faces with every swing of the door until Stabler sauntered through, chin high. Even the fourth time, it was like leaning over that balcony, watching Chris's broken body draw breath. Toby caught his own breath when he saw Stabler had his left arm in a sling, but there was no cast. The good detective hadn't broken his arm coming off his motorbike after a hold-up.
The neatly-suited red-head with him had the aura of an ADA, and the pair of them looked pleased. Toby was wondering how to break in when Stabler saw Toby across the corridor and smiled, no idea how it stoked the fire. And more, when he excused himself to come over.
"Guilty, then?" asked Toby.
"All counts. You know you could have gone in?"
"And make another enemy in the state correctional system? No thanks." Stare up at another cunt judge, passing judgement? Hell, no. "I just wanted to make sure he's done."
Stabler bought his response without a blink. "He's done." Toby supposed his excuse was more obvious than 'You look like my dead lover and this was the least suspicious reason I could find for seeing you again.' Though Toby hadn't got as far as planning how to string this meeting out, and now there was an awkward silence stretching. Toby couldn't ask him to lunch. The detective would think Toby wanted to fuck him. Which he did, but he wasn't that much of an optimist. He just wanted to stare at Chris Keller in a starched shirt and tie. And a sling. "What happened to your arm?"
He raised his eyebrows. "Would you believe I was shot in the elbow by Nazis?"
Toby almost choked. "Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"I hate Nazis."
Toby meant it, but Stabler chuckled. "I'm not too fond of them myself."
Toby had stumbled into some crazed parallel universe. He'd actually managed to connect, but any moment Stabler was going to check his watch and-
Stabler checked his watch. "Hey, listen. I've got some time, and I'm in no rush to get back to desk duty. You want to catch a bite?"
Toby reeled. Stabler just asked him. "Yeah. Yes. That'd be great." He could hardly believe it. "I'm guessing you know what's good around here."
"'Good' might be taking it a little far, but I know a place." He swung on that same navy coat he'd been wearing when Toby first saw him outside Franco's, draping it over the shoulder with the sling. In Oz Toby had never thought to imagine Chris dressed up; his occasional fantasies of a real life never stretched beyond relaxing at home in jeans, or better yet, leisurely naked sleep-ins that wouldn't be interrupted for count. Chris would have looked good enough to eat, in a shirt and tie and navy overcoat.
The diner was just around the corner, a few hundred yards of New York slush and they were shrugging their coats off again as they stepped into the sudden heat. Toby tried not to stare as Stabler slid into his seat, as he picked up the menu with his free hand and scanned it, had his choice picked out and the menu discarded before his eyes hit the bottom of the page. The same leisurely comfort in his own space as Chris, making Toby wonder if this detective had the same desperation and fear beneath, or a whole different set of insecurities. What kept the good guys awake at night?
Stabler rearranged his arm in the sling, and a band of pale skin caught Toby's eye. His wedding ring was gone.
"The burgers are tolerable. Keep away from the mac cheese."
Chris liked mac cheese day.
Stabler gave the waitress his order, and Toby asked for the same so he didn't have to give up studying his companion. "So what is it people in the world talk about these days?" Toby couldn't figure out why Stabler had invited him out. Maybe he thought Toby had information on something else. Maybe he wanted to save him from his degenerate life. Toby didn't care, would gladly drag out the chit chat, cataloguing the similarities until Stabler got to the point. Maybe Stabler's nose was a little sharper, his cheeks a little thinner, but his eyes were exactly the same shifting shades of blue.
"Work, mostly. But I'd rather not." Stabler shrugged. "We can talk about your job."
"Administrative assistant for a real estate attorney."
"Sounds interesting." His tone said otherwise.
"It's a better job than most parolees can hope for." It was like going back to remedial school for a corporate contract lawyer. Toby didn't know if it was a blessing or a curse, being this close to the job he used to be so good at, but it beat the hell out of everything he would have found on the banks at the parole office.
Elliot unrolled his knife and fork from the paper napkin. "How was your Christmas?"
It was surreal. Instead of looking forward to an extra hour of visiting time before choking down tinned turkey, he'd woken to Holly bouncing on his bed with a carefully-wrapped present. "It was perfect. How was yours?"
Stabler's eyes cut away. "Quiet." Of course it was - he'd just taken off his wedding ring. It was probably the hardest Christmas he'd ever had.
"Tell me about your kids. How many do you have?"
"Four. Three girls and a boy." He took out his wallet and paused, like he'd just remembered this wasn't just some guy from work. Toby waited, and finally Stabler flipped it open and pushed it across.
Toby almost couldn't look. The idea of little Chris Kellers... He leaned over the photos. None of them looked like Chris, not even the boy. If Chris had had kids, he would have loved them more fiercely, more protectively than he loved Toby, but that wouldn't have made him a good father. "Twins?"
"Yeah. Dickie and Lizzie; they turn thirteen next month. That's Maureen; she's twenty-one, and Kathleen's seventeen."
They were older than Toby expected. "You started young."
"Too young. But they turned out pretty good."
"Your house must be a zoo." Toby missed it. Holly and Gary squabbling over toys, Harry crying, Genevieve singing to soothe him. Holly was so quiet now, and too often she wasn't there at all.
"It was." Stabler hesitated, and Toby held his breath for the confidence. "Their mother and I are separated."
Toby nodded. "I noticed the ring was gone." So it hadn't been a string of divorces. Stabler had been a solid family man, until it finally crumbled.
He looked down at his left hand, spread his fingers. "It took a while to take it off." His hands were just right. Probably had the same weight-lifting calluses, judging by those thick, powerful shoulders. Chris's rough hands had been exquisite on Toby's sensitive cock.
Their burgers showed up and they tucked in. Stabler slipped out of his sling and lifted his shoulders at Toby's look. "I'm out of it in a week, thank god." He wolfed his food down like a hungry guy, no sense of show. When his tongue darted out to catch stray drips of sauce it was totally unselfconscious, no idea of how Toby imagined chasing it inside. Chris had always known, used to chase every lick with a glance, just to prove he had Toby's attention.
Toby wondered if Stabler had been screwing women the way Toby had been fucking men, or if he'd been keeping it in his pants. Which led to Toby imagining Stabler taking care of himself. Chris had been an exhibitionist; if Toby couldn't satisfy him, Chris'd lie in his bunk and tell Toby all about it as he tugged his own cock. Toby didn't think Stabler would be like that.
"When did you split with your wife?"
"We separated just over a year ago."
Not out of the blue after laying his eyes on Toby, tugged by an inexplicable past life memory.
He let out a breath, rubbed his eyebrow. Even the angle of his eyebrows was just right. "I still can't believe how empty the apartment is when I wake up in the morning. Can't believe I used to grouse about getting them ready for school. Now it's every second weekend, and dinner whenever I can find the time."
Four months ago, Toby would have counted that as unimaginable luxury. "I know how it is. You're supposed to be around to help your kids with their homework every night, to see them coming and going with their friends, and instead it's all formal appointments for awkward small talk and you realise you sound like your Aunt Mona doing the annual Christmas interrogation, and you don't understand how you can try so hard and still know so little about their lives."
Stabler stared at him like he'd just uncovered some kind of deep, dark secret, instead of describing the nightly angst of every absent father. "It doesn't seem like that between you and Holly."
"That's all Holly and I had for years. It's what I still have with my son one weekend a month, if I'm lucky."
"You have a son?"
"Harry's nine. He lives with my wife's parents in San Diego." Toby pulled a photo from his own wallet.
Stabler took a good, long look. "He's handsome."
"He has his mother's genes." Genevieve's dark hair and eyes, that same cool beauty. He took back the picture for another look. It was the two of them from the week after Toby got out, Harry stiffly bearing Toby's arm around his shoulders. In photos Toby could see a resemblance: something in the shape of his face, the turn of his mouth, but in person it seemed to disappear. "He came over for the Christmas break and I grilled him for details about his life, but I've never met any of his friends, never been to his school."
"Why is he with your in-laws?"
"When Gen died, my parents took Holly and... but they couldn't take care of a baby. My children were split up."
Stabler grimaced. "I'm sorry."
Toby shrugged. Just one more piece of damage.
"But you're out now."
"Yeah?"
"Why is Harry still with your in-laws?"
Toby gritted his teeth. "He wasn't even twelve months old when I went in. He never laid eyes on me until he was seven."
"So you get to know him. One weekend a month isn't going to do that."
He was here to pretend he was talking to Chris, not to have his decisions questioned by someone who didn't know the first thing about his life. "They're the only parents he's known." Jonah and Marta had never forgiven Toby for what he did to their daughter and grandchildren, but they loved Harry and they were raising him well. Holly wanted to be with Toby, and in their own fucked up way, they were good for each other. Harry was another story.
"Toby, he's your blood."
Toby froze. Even his heart held, for half a second. It had been years, but Stabler's voice reached back and Toby could smell prison soap, taste the memory of Chris's inexplicable interest in caring for Toby, and his own naive affections. Chris had been right about seeing them then, but Stabler wasn't. This second-rate copy didn't get to tell him how to be a father. "You think I haven't wrenched my heart out over this decision? He's happy where he is, and I've done enough damage. I'm not going to tear up his life to make me whole." Toby swallowed, calmed his voice. "I'm hoping he'll come to high school in New York. He likes math, so maybe Stuyvesant, maybe Brooklyn Tech." It was a long shot, but hope wasn't rational.
Stabler stabbed his fries, and Toby shut his mouth. This was the judgement he'd been waiting for. Stabler's jaw was working, chewing on his anger. One minute he was a million miles from the lover Toby ached for, the next it was like Chris was sitting right here, and Toby wanted to touch him.
"You should tell me to shut the hell up."
Toby shook his head. That didn't sound like Chris at all.
"You've done a good job with Holly. I've seen plenty of kids who've been through bad experiences and had a harder time adjusting."
"That was my parents, not me." What the hell did Stabler know about how Holly was adjusting, anyway?
He wasn't backing down. "You must be doing something right. Olivia said she was very protective of you."
"Your partner? She didn't seem to like me."
"She was just doing her job."
Toby leaned in. "What did they talk about?" Holly had just shrugged and told him nothing.
"Liv said Holly just kept asking about you. If we were mad at you. If we were going to put you in jail."
Toby wondered how long it would be before Holly really trusted that he was home for good. Longer than Toby, maybe. "I vouched for you, so if you ever decide you want to arrest me, you make sure someone else puts the cuffs on, okay?"
"You think I'm going to arrest you for something?"
It had crossed Toby's mind that that might be what this was about. "I stopped believing my life couldn't be fucked up again a long time ago, but you can call off the tail, Detective Stabler; I won't even j-walk, these days."
"I'm not here to arrest you. And you're not my witness anymore. You can call me Elliot."
But can I call you Chris, Toby wondered?
Elliot leaned on his elbow, eyes wide and blue. "It must be a hell of a job, rebuilding your life, Tobias."
Chris had never called him that. "Friends call me Toby."
"Toby." He didn't say it right. He made it just a name, without the needy growl or the bite of patience growing short. "Eight years is a long time to spend inside. I've seen plenty of guys walk out with good intentions, and never get half as far as you have."
Toby wondered if Elliot was counting Franco's in his measure of success.
"Seriously, Toby. You've got a steady job, a good relationship with your daughter. You had the balls to come and help us ID Markstrom's killer. That's not nothing. I wish I could hope for this kind of a future for more of the people I deal with."
"You're not talking about ex-cons. You're talking about rape victims."
Elliot held his ground. "Not a lot of men can admit they were raped."
Was that what this was about? "In prison, it isn't exactly classified information."
Is that how he could hold Elliot's attention? Play the victim? Toby had whored better parts of himself for less, but he doubted that was anything to hope for, here.
Toby pushed Elliot back to talking about his kids. Elliot obliviously played along, rambling about teaching them to play basketball and baseball. He'd taken the twins to see a Jets game just before Christmas. As Elliot talked about football the sentences muddied together, and Toby found himself watching his lips curl around the words, letting Chris's voice wash over him. Chris rarely talked about sports. He played whatever was going but never small-talked about teams. For all his expertise in wrestling, he'd never once mentioned a professional wrestler. Chris hadn't had any interest in watching other people doing anything he couldn't manipulate. He could watch Toby for hours.
Elliot checked his watch. "Dammit. I have to get back to work."
And there was the wrench of comedown, faster and harder than any drug Toby had taken. No one was going to be dealing this one on Toby's street corner. "Well. Thanks for this. I don't think I knew how much I needed it." Now he knew exactly how much he wanted it.
"A mediocre burger?"
"An adult conversation. This is the first time I've had lunch with someone who wasn't immediate family since I got out."
"It's the first time I've eaten with someone who wasn't family or a cop in longer than that."
"When you suggested lunch I thought you were taking the long road around to interrogate me."
Elliot smiled. "I was just wondering how you were doing." Elliot hesitated, looking awkward. Not like Chris. "You want to do this again? Next week, maybe?"
"Yeah." Toby hoped he kept the exclamation mark out of his voice.
"Do you have my card?"
Of course he did - softened and worn, stuffed in his pocket right now, where his fingers could find it and worry it for a little fix whenever he needed it. "I'm not sure, maybe somewhere..."
Elliot dug out another. "Here."
Toby would keep this one pristine. Under glass, maybe. One to touch, one to admire from afar. Chris and Elliot, made of three-and-a-half-by-two paper. "I used to have cards." He grabbed a napkin, took the pen Elliot offered and wrote his own number down. Wondered if he would lose his parole for thieving a pen from an officer of the law.
Elliot didn't call. Toby didn't realise how high his hopes had risen until they crashed.
Elliot had probably just been being polite when he said he wanted to meet up again. Or maybe he did some digging on Toby, hadn't liked what he found. Or maybe Toby was just forgotten already.
Chris's voice suggested maybe the detective was having second thoughts about regular lunches with an ex-con who got on his knees for any thug who'd shove him around.
Yeah, well. Toby could happily report he hadn't been doing any of that lately. Leo Markstrom's murder had soured that hobby.
Toby knew what Chris would do with the men who'd left their fingerprints over Toby in Franco's. He didn't know what he'd make of Elliot.
Would you snap his neck too, Chris? Or would you sit back with your hand stuffed in your pants, egging me on to fuck the look-alike, prove all over again that you own me, even from beyond the grave?
It was a ridiculous question; of course Chris would want to watch him with Elliot. Fucking narcissist.
A smile snuck up, unbidden. If only Toby could give him that show. And thank god Toby would never have to find out what Chris would do to Elliot afterwards.
"Did you need the bathroom, Dad? I'm going to have a shower."
Toby's head jerked up as his hips jerked away to face the sink. "No, Hol, you're fine." He picked up the cloth, pretended he'd been wiping something.
"Hey, do we have any old magazines? I have to take some to school tomorrow."
Toby blinked. "It's seven-thirty. You couldn't have mentioned that earlier?"
"I forgot."
"I don't think we have any. I'll give you money to buy something in the morning."
"Thanks, Dad."
She trotted off to the bathroom, twisting her long hair up into a little blonde top-knot to keep it dry. Toby was supposed to be thinking of her, not Elliot or Chris or some unholy merging of the two. She was supposed to be the difference. Think of Holly, make good choices: that was his mantra since the day he walked out. How could he have Holly in his life and still have a part of him yearn for a six-by-ten glass pod?
Elliot complicated things. Elliot easy to talk to: a father finding his way on his own. Toby could talk to him and think of Holly and think of Chris all at the same time. Toby didn't know how he was getting away with it. Elliot Stabler was supposed to be a hard-nosed detective, untrusting of anyone without a badge, and especially of the refuse that trickled out of the correctional system. It should have taken more than the empathy of another father to coax him out.
But Elliot had made the offer. He'd given Toby his card. There was no reason why Toby couldn't call. If he waited longer, Holly would be out of the shower, and he might not have another chance until tomorrow. Toby pulled out his phone.
"Stabler." Brisk and professional.
"Detective. Hi. It's Tobias Beecher."
"Oh. Toby." He sounded irritated. "I've been meaning to call you, but it's been a hellish week." The phone muffled as Elliot covered it to talk to someone. A few words of that familiar voice were enough to stir Toby. He wanted one more lunch. One more half hour to stare at that face and pretend Chris was playing oblivious to Toby's smoking stare just to tease. "Listen, I can't talk right now, and I'm going to be tied up for a while. Can I call you when I'm free?"
"Sure."
"Sorry, Toby."
"Don't worry about it."
Elliot hung up, and Toby put his phone down. That was that. Don't call me. I'll call you.
end chapter 3
And, once again:
Dr Squidlove inappropriately touches all feedback. Concrit thoroughly welcome, warm fuzzies treasured.
This lj is fic-only. If you want to follow the story, you can friend this without me cluttering your feed with any boring RL posts.
The complete works of Dr Squidlove can be found at The Lecherous Tentacles of Dr Squidlove:
http://members.iinet.net.au/~tentacles/squidfic.html
S.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2014-10-02 03:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-03 12:12 pm (UTC)Thanks, mazephoenix!
S.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-03 02:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-04 02:36 pm (UTC)All Toby/Elliot is good. We need the long and the short. :-)
I'm not ambitious. I didn't expect to finish this when I started; I was just writing for myself. It's just that I kinda kept on writing...
S.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-02 04:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-03 12:13 pm (UTC)Me too! I was so sad when I ran out of Toby/Elliot to read. I had to write it to have more.
S.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-02 04:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-03 12:14 pm (UTC)Poor Toby has had more than his fair share.
S.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-03 12:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-03 12:16 pm (UTC)Thanks, iskra! I'm glad it's working: I really want Chris to be incredibly present here. Even long after his death, still with that hold on Toby.
S.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-03 06:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-03 12:18 pm (UTC)Excellent...
These are very good questions. And it means a lot to hear them, so thank you very much, helvetica.
S.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-05 03:16 pm (UTC)And even if all this is on the level, eventually Elliot will find out about Chris and that's going to be all kinds of awkward.
Bouncing off to the next chapter...
no subject
Date: 2014-10-06 08:41 am (UTC)It is most definitely my opinion that Elliot finding out about Chris could only be... yes, awkward is a good word.
S.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-10 04:20 pm (UTC)Chris liked mac cheese day.
Aww. :( I love how you bring little details into the story to demonstrate that Chris was a "real" person, and he's not just this vague memory or aura.
Chris hadn't had any interest in watching other people doing anything he couldn't manipulate. He could watch Toby for hours.
Brilliant observation, so true, and a great way of putting it.
LOVED the bit with the business cards, and Toby drawing the parallel of Chris and the worn card vs. Elliot and the crisp clean one. Gave me the warm fuzzies. And Toby keeping the pen! I think I might have done something similar back in the day of my schoolgirl crushes. :D
Elliot better call him back!
Another great chapter. :)
no subject
Date: 2014-10-11 11:34 am (UTC)I love your comments, vanillalime. So happy to know this stuff is coming across.
It definitely could have smoothed things if Toby had been a little more obsessed up on that balcony. At least until the next time one of them screwed it up.
Even in prison, one of the meals has to be the favourite. I'm glad Chris feels real - he's a man who fills a room, and needs to still be doing it to poor Toby.
Thank you so much!
S.