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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.
Rated R for violence and explicit references to sexual violence.
Wordcount this post: 4274
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 8: Friendship
by Dr Squidlove
Previously, in chapter 7, Ian Tate:
Elliot joined Toby and Holly for a gourmet dinner, which stirred a little envy at their relationship but also made Elliot more hopeful for the future of his latest kidnap victim. Toby reflected on his hopes for Holly: whether he'd want her to love someone the way he loved Chris.
Former suspect/victim Ian Tate randomly dropped in on Elliot to let him know he was doing okay, and it made Elliot's day a whole let better. Still, he's going to have words with Toby about interfering in his job.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Toby juggled his bags out of the taxi, threading them along his arms and cradling the bread, wishing had an extra hand to tighten his scarf and praying the bag with the milk hanging on his last two fingers wouldn't tear any further before he made it upstairs.
The bread was lifted away, and then the milk, and Toby's heart did the little skip and fall it always did when Chris's face or voice took him by surprise. "Maybe it's time you invested in a car."
Elliot, not Chris. Elliot didn't need to be reminded what happened the last time Toby drove a car.
Toby didn't know what Elliot was doing here, but it didn't seem to be any kind of emergency so he kept his mouth shut as Elliot took a couple more bags, freeing Toby to reach for his keys. Toby didn't have that moment of surprise often anymore. Elliot who squirmed when Toby flirted over pizza and teased Holly over board games was a world away from Chris.
Elliot held the front door open with his elbow as Toby pushed through, and then followed him up the stairs. He'd never dropped by before, but Toby was grateful for the extra hands. "Mind the milk. Bag's split."
"Sure." Toby heard him adjusting the load.
Into the apartment to the kitchen counter, and Toby kept himself to a questioning glance as he started unpacking. He didn't mind that Elliot was here, but he guessed there was a reason.
"I had a visitor today."
"Who was that?" Milk and meat in the fridge.
"Does the name Ian Tate sound familiar to you?"
Toby pulled his head out of the fridge. "He came?" Toby had given up hope that Tate would go see Elliot, but he'd chickened out of finding someone else.
"Yeah. He stopped by for a coffee and a postscript." His stern expression said he'd detectived out exactly how Tate came to find him, so Toby didn't bother to play innocent.
"You have every right to be angry."
"You bet I do. You can't go digging into my work."
"Famed homophobic psychiatrist murders son's boyfriend: it wasn't difficult to track down the case." It felt stupid now, with Elliot standing here glaring at him. "Look, I'm not expecting... I just wanted to... It felt good to do something for you." Toby looked up, incapable of resisting. "I wasn't trying to... You are straight, aren't you?" Toby said it for the fun of seeing Elliot grind his teeth. With maybe just a shred of hope that Elliot would waver and Toby would finally have that chance to close his eyes and pretend it was Chris beneath him.
"Be serious, Toby."
"Sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." He was such a liar.
"You didn't. As long as you know I'm not..." Elliot waved a hand, incapable of saying the word.
"I'm teasing." In the dark at night, Toby still allowed himself the occasional fantasy of Elliot turning into Chris: breaking off in the middle of some conversation about their kids to shove Toby against a wall and grope him and declare how much he missed him, how hard he was going to fuck him after lights-out. Toby had never actually fantasised about Elliot: uncomfortably straight and emotionally repressed.
"Toby, you can't-"
"I just wanted you to know that people do re-build their lives. I know one person's not much, and maybe not everyone manages, and even the best cases can't go back to who they were before, but you're the first step in making sense of it all. You don't get to see where they are after thirty or a hundred steps, but trust me, that first step matters the most of all." Toby realised he was arguing instead of apologising, and added, "I'm sorry."
Elliot frowned some more, and swallowed. "Thank you."
Toby was hunching, awaiting an eruption. "So... you're not going to haul me back to the parole board?"
"Nobody's ever done anything like that for me before." His voice was rough, but he cleared his throat. "My family put up with a lot more than they should, and Olivia and the Captain, the squad, they've got my back. No one ever went so far out of their way just to..."
"Meddle with your job?"
"Remind me that it means something. Seriously, Toby - thank you." A hand landed on Toby's shoulder and squeezed. Toby's mouth went dry.
He couldn't believe Elliot was taking it so well. "Don't worry about it."
"Just don't do it again, all right?"
Toby held off on saying yes. "As long as you promise you won't write Ian Tate off as a one-off freak good fortune."
"Deal." Elliot smiled as his hand slipped away. "I should be getting going. Where's Holly?"
"Gone to see a movie with a friend. Stick around a while. You want a drink? No beer, but I've got juice, soda, coffee?" Elliot hesitated, but it looked like he was being polite instead of reluctant, so Toby pulled out a couple of glasses. "Apple juice?"
"Sure. How's she doing?"
"Good. Excited: we're spending the weekend at Mother's, Harry's coming to stay, my brother Angus is bringing his sons. Big family weekend."
"You're going to see Harry? That's great."
"Yeah. Haven't seen him since Christmas, so..."
"It must be hard."
"Yeah." He'd had two weeks when he got out, a quick visit in October and then Thanksgiving and winter break. Toby had assumed he'd see Harry every month, but Harry had his own life and plans, and over two months had slipped by. Toby felt almost as nervous as he had that first time Harry came to stay. He still hadn't figured out if it was harder dealing with the nerves in the lead-up, or saying goodbye at the end of Harry's visits, and he didn't want to tempt Elliot to offer advice about that. "How's your big case going?"
"We've got him. Now we're just nailing down the details, making sure the case is bullet-proof. I want to make sure this scumbag gets the needle."
"The death penalty?" Toby tried to control his tone, but Elliot read Toby's face and put his drink down on the counter.
"You're against the death penalty?" It was the same tone he would have used to ask if Toby was against puppies, or the laughter of children.
He'd been against it in a vague, theoretical sense before Oz, and Sister Pete's regular tirades had him leaning further away, but then there was the fight to keep Chris alive. Never mind the day he'd found himself with his own needle looming after Chris's suicide. And the execution of Cyril O'Reilly was about the least-just thing he ever saw in Oz. These days there was nothing vague or theoretical about Toby's feelings about the death penalty. "I don't think it does anyone any good."
Elliot's lip curled. "Really? It doesn't do you any good to know the man who traumatised Holly and killed Gary is dead?"
For a knee-weakening second Toby thought Elliot knew. But he didn't, and he couldn't ever. "I wanted to tear him to pieces. I wanted it to be slow and brutal and painful. That's why justice shouldn't be in my hands." Elliot's expression was disbelief, even a little disgust. "That's what would have happened if he'd been within my reach in Oz. I think the legal system should be more civilised than what went on between the animals in there."
"If you'd seen the things I've-"
"How many times do I need to be raped before I get a vote, Detective? How many of my children to do I need to bury?"
Elliot shut his mouth. He dipped his head.
Toby turned away, started shoving groceries in cupboards. He was a hypocrite. He had his guilt over all the Schillingers' deaths to keep him awake at night, but maybe that was a luxury he wouldn't imagine if he was still kept awake wondering when the next chapter of their feud would tear another hole in his family. Toby wrapped his arms around his waist and leaned back against the counter. "I understand why you feel differently. But in eight years I saw enough eye for an eye to last a lifetime."
"I'm sorry."
Toby shrugged. Now the kitchen was too small, and the quiet was awkward. Toby's phone buzzed and he checked the message, grateful for the interruption. "Holly's on her way home."
Elliot drained his glass and put it in the sink. "I'll get going, then. Thanks for the juice."
In minutes Toby had gone from being the guy who gave Elliot's job meaning to making Elliot's job sound petty and vengeful. "Elliot..."
Elliot turned back, brow creased, jaw hard. "Are you under the impression I'm angry with you?"
Yes. "Your angry face isn't that different from your other faces."
He huffed, and rubbed his palms against his eyes. "Would you believe I've been told I'm good with trauma victims?"
"Yes." Toby said it without hesitation.
"I don't know where you get your capacity for forgiveness."
Toby wanted to laugh. Some days Elliot didn't seem to get him at all. "Forgiveness would be overstating it. Eventually staying angry is just too exhausting. I don't know what caused the most destruction in my life: alcohol or anger. Alcohol was a hell of a lot easier to quit."
They reached the door, and Elliot's hand was on the handle when he turned back again. "Seriously, Toby. Why'd you send Ian Tate after me?"
Because it wasn't fair that Elliot spent his days fighting to bring the Schillingers of the world to justice, and seemed to be dragging just as much guilt around as Toby the fuck-up and addict and murderer. Maybe that was even the main reason. "You really don't know why?"
Elliot just waited, blank, like he couldn't think of a single reason why anyone would want to be nice to him.
Maybe it was because Elliot deserved to borrow a little relief from his remorseless twin. Chris had felt the fire of hell, but he'd never really felt guilt. A little for betraying Toby, but not for any of the people he killed, not even for those innocent college boys.
"I never got to meet the agents who captured Hank Schillinger. I don't know who snatched Holly out of the way as the FBI tackled Hank on my parents' lawn, or who took her to a little room to dredge through the details. Back then, the only thing that mattered was seeing she was alive and whole. I never thought about any of them until I saw how you let it all wear away at you. The stuff you do... you should be proud of it."
And now Elliot was doing that coy shuffling thing, and Toby wondered how he ever confused him with Chris. Toby thought he was going to rebuff the compliment again, but he only nodded. "We're on for dinner next week?
"Yeah. I'll be able to tell you all about my big family adventure."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Elliot pushed the twins through the door ahead of him, saw from Kathy's sympathetic look that she knew exactly how dinner had been. New York was having a warm snap, but there was a chill wind blowing between Dickie and Lizzie. They hadn't stopped sniping all night. She threw the sponge in the sink and kissed the kids hello and then kicked them upstairs to get ready for school tomorrow.
Elliot pulled a chair from the table and sat. "How long's that been going on?"
She rolled her eyes. "It's been nothing but all week."
"Do you know what started it?"
She cocked an eyebrow. "Dick has a girl."
He looked at her properly. "Really?"
"I don't think he's figured it out yet, but Lizzie has. He's all 'Alison this,' and Alison that,' can't hang out with Lizzie because Alison wants to go to the library."
The library? Dickie? "So they're just friends? He hasn't asked her out?" He faintly remembered an Alison being mentioned at dinner. Lizzie had said something catty and Dickie had jumped down her throat.
"He hasn't said anything, but there's this amazing new friend in his life, and all he wants to do is hang out with her. What do you call that?"
Friendship. A flush crept up Elliot's neck. He called it friendship. "People can be friends without it being something more."
She heaved a sigh. "Don't start with that too-young business."
"I'm not saying he's too young. I'm just saying maybe we shouldn't blow this up into something it isn't."
Her eyes narrowed. "Who's blowing things up? Credit me with some insight, El. He's been bubbling whenever Liz isn't picking fights. Maybe he's not ready to understand what his hormones are telling him, but I know a crush when I see one." She picked up the sponge like she was about to get back to work, and put it down again. "I'll be honest, Elliot. I thought you'd have more trouble with Liz growing up than Dick."
Elliot wished he remembered how to do this better. What the hell did it matter whether Dickie had a thing for a girl? "I'm sorry. I wasn't... I didn't mean to be, you know. Me." He pushed out an apologetic smile.
Kathy gave him a long look. "He's not the only one acting different."
"What are you talking about?"
"Just that you seem to be in a good mood lately."
"I'm hearing that a lot."
"So what's going on?"
"Nothing."
"Elliot?"
"Kathy." If she asked him if he was dating, this was going to get too awkward.
"Fine."
After a tense moment they smiled at each other. They were getting better at this post-divorce communication. It was a little sad.
"Do you need anything?"
She reached into the letter file. "A couple of bills to pay."
He slid them into his pocket without opening them. "Anything else?"
"You should stick around. Kathleen will be home soon."
"Is there time to escape?" He didn't get up.
Kathy joined him at the table. "You need to talk to her, Elliot."
"That never goes well."
"Not at her. To her." On cue, they heard a car pull up out front. "Here's your first tip. Don't ask where she's been tonight. Or about boys. There are other things in her life than boys. There are friends and movies and sports. Remember when you talked about those?"
"Remember when I could make her laugh just by throwing her above my head?"
Kathy's lip curled up. "You're welcome to try that."
Kathleen's face fell when she saw him in the kitchen. "Dad. What are you doing here?"
"I had dinner with Dickie and Lizzie, thought I'd stick around to see you. How are you?"
"Fine." She wasn't moving from the doorway. She folded her arms, but it didn't hide that her blouse was almost see-through. Kathy let her go out in that? Elliot looked at Kathy, but Kathy had her arms folded too, waiting for him to screw this up.
He pushed out a chair. "It's not a trap. I just wanted to say hello." Elliot didn't know why he could do this so easily with traumatised strangers, but failed so completely with Kathleen. "Seen any good movies lately?"
She arched an eyebrow, but came and sat, dropping her bag beside her. "No."
"I couldn't sleep the other night. Ended up watching a Lethal Weapon marathon."
"How many procedural violations did you count?"
"Seventy-two."
She snorted a little laugh, didn't let it reach her lips but Elliot felt he was getting somewhere anyway.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Elliot drew a pink highlighter line though the $84 charge to Toys R Us. They'd have to check that purchase.
The chat with Kathleen had gone okay. She'd stuck around when Kathy went to bed, and even kissed his cheek when they said goodnight. If he could just never broach the subject of drinking or the losers she dated, maybe they could get along. That might suit Kathleen, but it wasn't going to happen.
And now it was starting with Dickie, maybe.
Another $160 to Toys R Us two weeks later. Curious for a guy on minimum wage with no kids.
Elliot didn't have a problem with Dickie crushing on a girl - except he wished he'd known before dinner, so he could lay on a little interrogation.
It had nothing to do with Toby.
Elliot had seen Maureen and Kathleen bubbling with excitement over new friends. When Kathleen found a new clique in middle school, it was weeks of what Jenna said and what Penny wore and 'I have to have to have to go to Belinda's party.'
Another charge. Elliot looked around. "Hey, Munch. Did you see any toys when you tossed Weber's apartment? Games, anything like that?"
"Not unless you count twenty-four hunting and tactical knives."
Eliot didn't.
It had been a long time since Elliot enjoyed a new friendship as much as he enjoyed hanging out with Toby, but new friends didn't roll in every day when you were headed for your forties. Hell, the old friends didn't roll in that often. Elliot wasn't a twelve year-old boy, and he wasn't confused about who he wanted to slide into second base with. And he really couldn't believe he'd spent this much time thinking about whether he had an adolescent crush on Toby.
It bothered him that he'd been worrying over it. He wouldn't have felt so self-conscious if Toby hadn't poked him the other day about whether he was straight. Elliot had known he was being baited, but it lingered anyway. How many friends did Elliot have, who'd have chased down Ian Tate for him?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Angus leaned over Timothy's shoulder, ruffling his son's hair. "This is a fun game, Holly. Where did you get it?"
"Elliot left it at our house."
"Is he a boy from school?"
Holly looked at him like he was an idiot. "No, Uncle Angus. Dad's friend Elliot."
Toby felt all the adult eyes in the room swing in his direction, wanting to know if this was Chris all over again. Thank god none of them had ever seen Chris or Elliot. Just to be perverse, he pretended he didn't notice the stares. Let them wonder. It was none of their damned business.
He turned back to Harry's photo album instead, pointing to the two boys flanking his son. "Who's this?"
"That's Ben and Phillip. Phillip's the best windsurfer around. He won two medals at regionals. He's teaching me lots of cool stuff."
"You like being out on the water."
"Of course! It's the best."
It wouldn't have been hard to guess from Harry's complexion, already sun-browned like a sailor even though Harry promised he always wore sunscreen. With his dark hair and eyes and tan skin, he hardly looked like Toby at all. Toby could swim well enough, but aside from a couple of trips to the beach with Genevieve and the kids a decade ago, he'd never been especially interested in going in the water. He flipped to the next page to see a photo of Harry on a board, holding up a sail twice his size. He was grinning like it was the best day of his life.
"That's at Cabrillo Beach. I almost got third in my age group."
Of course, Toby didn't bother to hope Angus would let it drop. Browsing through the album kept him safe until Harry asked him for a drink. He headed to the kitchen, and as he turned from the fridge he found himself facing his mother and Angus. He put the glass on the counter, and waited to see if the interrogation would start with good cop or bad cop.
His mother smiled. "You've never mentioned Elliot."
Good cop, then. "There was nothing to mention. He's a friend."
"From work?"
"No."
Angus folded his arms, glanced out to check the kids were still absorbed. "From prison?"
"No."
"Are you fucking him?"
"Angus!"
"His words, Mother."
"Christ, the pair of you." Toby struggled to keep his voice low. "I can run my own life."
He expected a sarcastic retort from Angus, but it was his mother who said, "We're only concerned for you."
"Mother-"
"Maybe if we hadn't let you push us out of your life in the first place, you never would have been driving drunk that day. You don't have a monopoly on guilt, Toby."
No, but she had a mother's talent for inflicting it. He forced the defensiveness out of his voice. "He's not from prison. He's a cop. He's just a friend. We go out to eat, we talk about our kids. He's one of the better influences in my life."
She cupped his face. "Thank you, Toby. Was that so difficult?"
He sighed.
"You should have him over for dinner sometime." She kissed his cheek.
Yeah, Elliot would love being invited over to meet Toby's mother like some kind of romantic prospect.
When she headed out to the kids, Angus lingered. "She deserves better than what she gets from you."
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"
"The way you talk to her."
Toby could see the words simmering, something he'd been biting back for god-knew how long. "Just say it, Angus."
His hesitation lasted about two more seconds. "She held it together through your trial, when you went to prison. She buried Gary and raised Holly, watched Dad go off to defend that serial killer you were fucking until it got him killed. She never let a word be said against you in all those years, and you still treat her like she's a busybody when she's just afraid you'll let it all go to shit again."
Toby's cheeks burned. Angus was right on every count.
How could he tell her anything? He broke her heart over and over, and she hardly knew the worst of it. Was he supposed to tell her he met Elliot playing witness to a rape and murder by another one of his lovers? Did she need to know that he murdered a man with his sharpened fingernails? Or that he took out the hit on Hank Schillinger, and that he made her husband a murderer too when he begged his dad to make the payment?
He would have told her all of that before he ever let her find out about those first months of rape and humiliation, because if he found out something like that happened to Holly or Harry, it would have broken him.
"She just wants to help you, Toby. For god's sake, let her help."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
He knew he was pouting through the rest of the evening. It was too easy to resent Angus for reminding him what an ass he was, and too damned hard to figure out how to fix it.
But this was a weekend with Harry, so the rest of the family was going to have to take a back seat.
After Harry had brushed his teeth and climbed into bed, Toby sat by his feet and they talked awhile. It was nice. Harry always started off his visits shy and uncomfortable, but he warmed up a little faster each time. Sitting here with his shoes kicked off, listening to Harry ramble about cars, Toby almost felt like a father.
He probably lingered longer than he should have, until Harry's eyes were drooping, and then he kissed him goodnight and headed downstairs. Mother was in the kitchen, raiding the fridge.
Toby crept up behind her. "Didn't I use to get in trouble for that?"
She just raised an eyebrow. "With your father, not me. Are you going to be a tattle-tale, or help me polish off the mint ice cream?"
Toby laughed, and grabbed a couple of spoons from the drawer. They dug straight into the container together. It would have horrified his dad.
Toby let a spoon full of ice cream numb his mouth, almost sighing at the taste. Every now and then he found something he hadn't remembered since he got out, and for this moment, it was mint ice cream, flecked with chocolate chips. Incredible.
"You look happier."
"Harry wants a Ferrari F430. A black one. He was showing me pictures."
She smiled. "I'm sure he does. But I meant generally. I'm glad you have a friend."
It was the sort of thing parents were supposed to say to six year-olds, not grown men, but Toby remembered his conversation with Angus and kept his hackles down. "Yeah. He's recently divorced. We're good for each other. Getting each other out of the house."
She took another nibble of ice cream. "Have you been sober?"
"Yes, Mother."
"Would you tell me if you hadn't?"
That question was new. Toby took a minute to really think about it. She'd asked if he was sober every time they'd spoken on the phone, and he'd usually thrown off an answer like it was a rhetorical question. She deserved better. "I promise I'll always answer truthfully, okay? I haven't had a drink since that time you woke me up. Thank you for asking."
She squeezed his hand, his honesty rare enough to dampen her eyes.
God, he was such an ass. "My social life these days is pretty much Holly and Elliot and you, and I wouldn't dare drink around any of you."
"Elliot knows?"
"Yeah, he knows I'm an alcoholic. He doesn't like it, but he knows."
"Good." She took another scoop of ice cream, and shoved the container towards him.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
end chapter 8
Dr Squidlove inappropriately touches all feedback. Concrit thoroughly welcome, warm fuzzies treasured. Here or at drsquidlove @@@ livejournal.com
The complete works of Dr Squidlove can be found at 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.
Rated R for violence and explicit references to sexual violence.
Wordcount this post: 4274
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 8: Friendship
by Dr Squidlove
Previously, in chapter 7, Ian Tate:
Elliot joined Toby and Holly for a gourmet dinner, which stirred a little envy at their relationship but also made Elliot more hopeful for the future of his latest kidnap victim. Toby reflected on his hopes for Holly: whether he'd want her to love someone the way he loved Chris.
Former suspect/victim Ian Tate randomly dropped in on Elliot to let him know he was doing okay, and it made Elliot's day a whole let better. Still, he's going to have words with Toby about interfering in his job.
Toby juggled his bags out of the taxi, threading them along his arms and cradling the bread, wishing had an extra hand to tighten his scarf and praying the bag with the milk hanging on his last two fingers wouldn't tear any further before he made it upstairs.
The bread was lifted away, and then the milk, and Toby's heart did the little skip and fall it always did when Chris's face or voice took him by surprise. "Maybe it's time you invested in a car."
Elliot, not Chris. Elliot didn't need to be reminded what happened the last time Toby drove a car.
Toby didn't know what Elliot was doing here, but it didn't seem to be any kind of emergency so he kept his mouth shut as Elliot took a couple more bags, freeing Toby to reach for his keys. Toby didn't have that moment of surprise often anymore. Elliot who squirmed when Toby flirted over pizza and teased Holly over board games was a world away from Chris.
Elliot held the front door open with his elbow as Toby pushed through, and then followed him up the stairs. He'd never dropped by before, but Toby was grateful for the extra hands. "Mind the milk. Bag's split."
"Sure." Toby heard him adjusting the load.
Into the apartment to the kitchen counter, and Toby kept himself to a questioning glance as he started unpacking. He didn't mind that Elliot was here, but he guessed there was a reason.
"I had a visitor today."
"Who was that?" Milk and meat in the fridge.
"Does the name Ian Tate sound familiar to you?"
Toby pulled his head out of the fridge. "He came?" Toby had given up hope that Tate would go see Elliot, but he'd chickened out of finding someone else.
"Yeah. He stopped by for a coffee and a postscript." His stern expression said he'd detectived out exactly how Tate came to find him, so Toby didn't bother to play innocent.
"You have every right to be angry."
"You bet I do. You can't go digging into my work."
"Famed homophobic psychiatrist murders son's boyfriend: it wasn't difficult to track down the case." It felt stupid now, with Elliot standing here glaring at him. "Look, I'm not expecting... I just wanted to... It felt good to do something for you." Toby looked up, incapable of resisting. "I wasn't trying to... You are straight, aren't you?" Toby said it for the fun of seeing Elliot grind his teeth. With maybe just a shred of hope that Elliot would waver and Toby would finally have that chance to close his eyes and pretend it was Chris beneath him.
"Be serious, Toby."
"Sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." He was such a liar.
"You didn't. As long as you know I'm not..." Elliot waved a hand, incapable of saying the word.
"I'm teasing." In the dark at night, Toby still allowed himself the occasional fantasy of Elliot turning into Chris: breaking off in the middle of some conversation about their kids to shove Toby against a wall and grope him and declare how much he missed him, how hard he was going to fuck him after lights-out. Toby had never actually fantasised about Elliot: uncomfortably straight and emotionally repressed.
"Toby, you can't-"
"I just wanted you to know that people do re-build their lives. I know one person's not much, and maybe not everyone manages, and even the best cases can't go back to who they were before, but you're the first step in making sense of it all. You don't get to see where they are after thirty or a hundred steps, but trust me, that first step matters the most of all." Toby realised he was arguing instead of apologising, and added, "I'm sorry."
Elliot frowned some more, and swallowed. "Thank you."
Toby was hunching, awaiting an eruption. "So... you're not going to haul me back to the parole board?"
"Nobody's ever done anything like that for me before." His voice was rough, but he cleared his throat. "My family put up with a lot more than they should, and Olivia and the Captain, the squad, they've got my back. No one ever went so far out of their way just to..."
"Meddle with your job?"
"Remind me that it means something. Seriously, Toby - thank you." A hand landed on Toby's shoulder and squeezed. Toby's mouth went dry.
He couldn't believe Elliot was taking it so well. "Don't worry about it."
"Just don't do it again, all right?"
Toby held off on saying yes. "As long as you promise you won't write Ian Tate off as a one-off freak good fortune."
"Deal." Elliot smiled as his hand slipped away. "I should be getting going. Where's Holly?"
"Gone to see a movie with a friend. Stick around a while. You want a drink? No beer, but I've got juice, soda, coffee?" Elliot hesitated, but it looked like he was being polite instead of reluctant, so Toby pulled out a couple of glasses. "Apple juice?"
"Sure. How's she doing?"
"Good. Excited: we're spending the weekend at Mother's, Harry's coming to stay, my brother Angus is bringing his sons. Big family weekend."
"You're going to see Harry? That's great."
"Yeah. Haven't seen him since Christmas, so..."
"It must be hard."
"Yeah." He'd had two weeks when he got out, a quick visit in October and then Thanksgiving and winter break. Toby had assumed he'd see Harry every month, but Harry had his own life and plans, and over two months had slipped by. Toby felt almost as nervous as he had that first time Harry came to stay. He still hadn't figured out if it was harder dealing with the nerves in the lead-up, or saying goodbye at the end of Harry's visits, and he didn't want to tempt Elliot to offer advice about that. "How's your big case going?"
"We've got him. Now we're just nailing down the details, making sure the case is bullet-proof. I want to make sure this scumbag gets the needle."
"The death penalty?" Toby tried to control his tone, but Elliot read Toby's face and put his drink down on the counter.
"You're against the death penalty?" It was the same tone he would have used to ask if Toby was against puppies, or the laughter of children.
He'd been against it in a vague, theoretical sense before Oz, and Sister Pete's regular tirades had him leaning further away, but then there was the fight to keep Chris alive. Never mind the day he'd found himself with his own needle looming after Chris's suicide. And the execution of Cyril O'Reilly was about the least-just thing he ever saw in Oz. These days there was nothing vague or theoretical about Toby's feelings about the death penalty. "I don't think it does anyone any good."
Elliot's lip curled. "Really? It doesn't do you any good to know the man who traumatised Holly and killed Gary is dead?"
For a knee-weakening second Toby thought Elliot knew. But he didn't, and he couldn't ever. "I wanted to tear him to pieces. I wanted it to be slow and brutal and painful. That's why justice shouldn't be in my hands." Elliot's expression was disbelief, even a little disgust. "That's what would have happened if he'd been within my reach in Oz. I think the legal system should be more civilised than what went on between the animals in there."
"If you'd seen the things I've-"
"How many times do I need to be raped before I get a vote, Detective? How many of my children to do I need to bury?"
Elliot shut his mouth. He dipped his head.
Toby turned away, started shoving groceries in cupboards. He was a hypocrite. He had his guilt over all the Schillingers' deaths to keep him awake at night, but maybe that was a luxury he wouldn't imagine if he was still kept awake wondering when the next chapter of their feud would tear another hole in his family. Toby wrapped his arms around his waist and leaned back against the counter. "I understand why you feel differently. But in eight years I saw enough eye for an eye to last a lifetime."
"I'm sorry."
Toby shrugged. Now the kitchen was too small, and the quiet was awkward. Toby's phone buzzed and he checked the message, grateful for the interruption. "Holly's on her way home."
Elliot drained his glass and put it in the sink. "I'll get going, then. Thanks for the juice."
In minutes Toby had gone from being the guy who gave Elliot's job meaning to making Elliot's job sound petty and vengeful. "Elliot..."
Elliot turned back, brow creased, jaw hard. "Are you under the impression I'm angry with you?"
Yes. "Your angry face isn't that different from your other faces."
He huffed, and rubbed his palms against his eyes. "Would you believe I've been told I'm good with trauma victims?"
"Yes." Toby said it without hesitation.
"I don't know where you get your capacity for forgiveness."
Toby wanted to laugh. Some days Elliot didn't seem to get him at all. "Forgiveness would be overstating it. Eventually staying angry is just too exhausting. I don't know what caused the most destruction in my life: alcohol or anger. Alcohol was a hell of a lot easier to quit."
They reached the door, and Elliot's hand was on the handle when he turned back again. "Seriously, Toby. Why'd you send Ian Tate after me?"
Because it wasn't fair that Elliot spent his days fighting to bring the Schillingers of the world to justice, and seemed to be dragging just as much guilt around as Toby the fuck-up and addict and murderer. Maybe that was even the main reason. "You really don't know why?"
Elliot just waited, blank, like he couldn't think of a single reason why anyone would want to be nice to him.
Maybe it was because Elliot deserved to borrow a little relief from his remorseless twin. Chris had felt the fire of hell, but he'd never really felt guilt. A little for betraying Toby, but not for any of the people he killed, not even for those innocent college boys.
"I never got to meet the agents who captured Hank Schillinger. I don't know who snatched Holly out of the way as the FBI tackled Hank on my parents' lawn, or who took her to a little room to dredge through the details. Back then, the only thing that mattered was seeing she was alive and whole. I never thought about any of them until I saw how you let it all wear away at you. The stuff you do... you should be proud of it."
And now Elliot was doing that coy shuffling thing, and Toby wondered how he ever confused him with Chris. Toby thought he was going to rebuff the compliment again, but he only nodded. "We're on for dinner next week?
"Yeah. I'll be able to tell you all about my big family adventure."
Elliot pushed the twins through the door ahead of him, saw from Kathy's sympathetic look that she knew exactly how dinner had been. New York was having a warm snap, but there was a chill wind blowing between Dickie and Lizzie. They hadn't stopped sniping all night. She threw the sponge in the sink and kissed the kids hello and then kicked them upstairs to get ready for school tomorrow.
Elliot pulled a chair from the table and sat. "How long's that been going on?"
She rolled her eyes. "It's been nothing but all week."
"Do you know what started it?"
She cocked an eyebrow. "Dick has a girl."
He looked at her properly. "Really?"
"I don't think he's figured it out yet, but Lizzie has. He's all 'Alison this,' and Alison that,' can't hang out with Lizzie because Alison wants to go to the library."
The library? Dickie? "So they're just friends? He hasn't asked her out?" He faintly remembered an Alison being mentioned at dinner. Lizzie had said something catty and Dickie had jumped down her throat.
"He hasn't said anything, but there's this amazing new friend in his life, and all he wants to do is hang out with her. What do you call that?"
Friendship. A flush crept up Elliot's neck. He called it friendship. "People can be friends without it being something more."
She heaved a sigh. "Don't start with that too-young business."
"I'm not saying he's too young. I'm just saying maybe we shouldn't blow this up into something it isn't."
Her eyes narrowed. "Who's blowing things up? Credit me with some insight, El. He's been bubbling whenever Liz isn't picking fights. Maybe he's not ready to understand what his hormones are telling him, but I know a crush when I see one." She picked up the sponge like she was about to get back to work, and put it down again. "I'll be honest, Elliot. I thought you'd have more trouble with Liz growing up than Dick."
Elliot wished he remembered how to do this better. What the hell did it matter whether Dickie had a thing for a girl? "I'm sorry. I wasn't... I didn't mean to be, you know. Me." He pushed out an apologetic smile.
Kathy gave him a long look. "He's not the only one acting different."
"What are you talking about?"
"Just that you seem to be in a good mood lately."
"I'm hearing that a lot."
"So what's going on?"
"Nothing."
"Elliot?"
"Kathy." If she asked him if he was dating, this was going to get too awkward.
"Fine."
After a tense moment they smiled at each other. They were getting better at this post-divorce communication. It was a little sad.
"Do you need anything?"
She reached into the letter file. "A couple of bills to pay."
He slid them into his pocket without opening them. "Anything else?"
"You should stick around. Kathleen will be home soon."
"Is there time to escape?" He didn't get up.
Kathy joined him at the table. "You need to talk to her, Elliot."
"That never goes well."
"Not at her. To her." On cue, they heard a car pull up out front. "Here's your first tip. Don't ask where she's been tonight. Or about boys. There are other things in her life than boys. There are friends and movies and sports. Remember when you talked about those?"
"Remember when I could make her laugh just by throwing her above my head?"
Kathy's lip curled up. "You're welcome to try that."
Kathleen's face fell when she saw him in the kitchen. "Dad. What are you doing here?"
"I had dinner with Dickie and Lizzie, thought I'd stick around to see you. How are you?"
"Fine." She wasn't moving from the doorway. She folded her arms, but it didn't hide that her blouse was almost see-through. Kathy let her go out in that? Elliot looked at Kathy, but Kathy had her arms folded too, waiting for him to screw this up.
He pushed out a chair. "It's not a trap. I just wanted to say hello." Elliot didn't know why he could do this so easily with traumatised strangers, but failed so completely with Kathleen. "Seen any good movies lately?"
She arched an eyebrow, but came and sat, dropping her bag beside her. "No."
"I couldn't sleep the other night. Ended up watching a Lethal Weapon marathon."
"How many procedural violations did you count?"
"Seventy-two."
She snorted a little laugh, didn't let it reach her lips but Elliot felt he was getting somewhere anyway.
Elliot drew a pink highlighter line though the $84 charge to Toys R Us. They'd have to check that purchase.
The chat with Kathleen had gone okay. She'd stuck around when Kathy went to bed, and even kissed his cheek when they said goodnight. If he could just never broach the subject of drinking or the losers she dated, maybe they could get along. That might suit Kathleen, but it wasn't going to happen.
And now it was starting with Dickie, maybe.
Another $160 to Toys R Us two weeks later. Curious for a guy on minimum wage with no kids.
Elliot didn't have a problem with Dickie crushing on a girl - except he wished he'd known before dinner, so he could lay on a little interrogation.
It had nothing to do with Toby.
Elliot had seen Maureen and Kathleen bubbling with excitement over new friends. When Kathleen found a new clique in middle school, it was weeks of what Jenna said and what Penny wore and 'I have to have to have to go to Belinda's party.'
Another charge. Elliot looked around. "Hey, Munch. Did you see any toys when you tossed Weber's apartment? Games, anything like that?"
"Not unless you count twenty-four hunting and tactical knives."
Eliot didn't.
It had been a long time since Elliot enjoyed a new friendship as much as he enjoyed hanging out with Toby, but new friends didn't roll in every day when you were headed for your forties. Hell, the old friends didn't roll in that often. Elliot wasn't a twelve year-old boy, and he wasn't confused about who he wanted to slide into second base with. And he really couldn't believe he'd spent this much time thinking about whether he had an adolescent crush on Toby.
It bothered him that he'd been worrying over it. He wouldn't have felt so self-conscious if Toby hadn't poked him the other day about whether he was straight. Elliot had known he was being baited, but it lingered anyway. How many friends did Elliot have, who'd have chased down Ian Tate for him?
Angus leaned over Timothy's shoulder, ruffling his son's hair. "This is a fun game, Holly. Where did you get it?"
"Elliot left it at our house."
"Is he a boy from school?"
Holly looked at him like he was an idiot. "No, Uncle Angus. Dad's friend Elliot."
Toby felt all the adult eyes in the room swing in his direction, wanting to know if this was Chris all over again. Thank god none of them had ever seen Chris or Elliot. Just to be perverse, he pretended he didn't notice the stares. Let them wonder. It was none of their damned business.
He turned back to Harry's photo album instead, pointing to the two boys flanking his son. "Who's this?"
"That's Ben and Phillip. Phillip's the best windsurfer around. He won two medals at regionals. He's teaching me lots of cool stuff."
"You like being out on the water."
"Of course! It's the best."
It wouldn't have been hard to guess from Harry's complexion, already sun-browned like a sailor even though Harry promised he always wore sunscreen. With his dark hair and eyes and tan skin, he hardly looked like Toby at all. Toby could swim well enough, but aside from a couple of trips to the beach with Genevieve and the kids a decade ago, he'd never been especially interested in going in the water. He flipped to the next page to see a photo of Harry on a board, holding up a sail twice his size. He was grinning like it was the best day of his life.
"That's at Cabrillo Beach. I almost got third in my age group."
Of course, Toby didn't bother to hope Angus would let it drop. Browsing through the album kept him safe until Harry asked him for a drink. He headed to the kitchen, and as he turned from the fridge he found himself facing his mother and Angus. He put the glass on the counter, and waited to see if the interrogation would start with good cop or bad cop.
His mother smiled. "You've never mentioned Elliot."
Good cop, then. "There was nothing to mention. He's a friend."
"From work?"
"No."
Angus folded his arms, glanced out to check the kids were still absorbed. "From prison?"
"No."
"Are you fucking him?"
"Angus!"
"His words, Mother."
"Christ, the pair of you." Toby struggled to keep his voice low. "I can run my own life."
He expected a sarcastic retort from Angus, but it was his mother who said, "We're only concerned for you."
"Mother-"
"Maybe if we hadn't let you push us out of your life in the first place, you never would have been driving drunk that day. You don't have a monopoly on guilt, Toby."
No, but she had a mother's talent for inflicting it. He forced the defensiveness out of his voice. "He's not from prison. He's a cop. He's just a friend. We go out to eat, we talk about our kids. He's one of the better influences in my life."
She cupped his face. "Thank you, Toby. Was that so difficult?"
He sighed.
"You should have him over for dinner sometime." She kissed his cheek.
Yeah, Elliot would love being invited over to meet Toby's mother like some kind of romantic prospect.
When she headed out to the kids, Angus lingered. "She deserves better than what she gets from you."
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"
"The way you talk to her."
Toby could see the words simmering, something he'd been biting back for god-knew how long. "Just say it, Angus."
His hesitation lasted about two more seconds. "She held it together through your trial, when you went to prison. She buried Gary and raised Holly, watched Dad go off to defend that serial killer you were fucking until it got him killed. She never let a word be said against you in all those years, and you still treat her like she's a busybody when she's just afraid you'll let it all go to shit again."
Toby's cheeks burned. Angus was right on every count.
How could he tell her anything? He broke her heart over and over, and she hardly knew the worst of it. Was he supposed to tell her he met Elliot playing witness to a rape and murder by another one of his lovers? Did she need to know that he murdered a man with his sharpened fingernails? Or that he took out the hit on Hank Schillinger, and that he made her husband a murderer too when he begged his dad to make the payment?
He would have told her all of that before he ever let her find out about those first months of rape and humiliation, because if he found out something like that happened to Holly or Harry, it would have broken him.
"She just wants to help you, Toby. For god's sake, let her help."
He knew he was pouting through the rest of the evening. It was too easy to resent Angus for reminding him what an ass he was, and too damned hard to figure out how to fix it.
But this was a weekend with Harry, so the rest of the family was going to have to take a back seat.
After Harry had brushed his teeth and climbed into bed, Toby sat by his feet and they talked awhile. It was nice. Harry always started off his visits shy and uncomfortable, but he warmed up a little faster each time. Sitting here with his shoes kicked off, listening to Harry ramble about cars, Toby almost felt like a father.
He probably lingered longer than he should have, until Harry's eyes were drooping, and then he kissed him goodnight and headed downstairs. Mother was in the kitchen, raiding the fridge.
Toby crept up behind her. "Didn't I use to get in trouble for that?"
She just raised an eyebrow. "With your father, not me. Are you going to be a tattle-tale, or help me polish off the mint ice cream?"
Toby laughed, and grabbed a couple of spoons from the drawer. They dug straight into the container together. It would have horrified his dad.
Toby let a spoon full of ice cream numb his mouth, almost sighing at the taste. Every now and then he found something he hadn't remembered since he got out, and for this moment, it was mint ice cream, flecked with chocolate chips. Incredible.
"You look happier."
"Harry wants a Ferrari F430. A black one. He was showing me pictures."
She smiled. "I'm sure he does. But I meant generally. I'm glad you have a friend."
It was the sort of thing parents were supposed to say to six year-olds, not grown men, but Toby remembered his conversation with Angus and kept his hackles down. "Yeah. He's recently divorced. We're good for each other. Getting each other out of the house."
She took another nibble of ice cream. "Have you been sober?"
"Yes, Mother."
"Would you tell me if you hadn't?"
That question was new. Toby took a minute to really think about it. She'd asked if he was sober every time they'd spoken on the phone, and he'd usually thrown off an answer like it was a rhetorical question. She deserved better. "I promise I'll always answer truthfully, okay? I haven't had a drink since that time you woke me up. Thank you for asking."
She squeezed his hand, his honesty rare enough to dampen her eyes.
God, he was such an ass. "My social life these days is pretty much Holly and Elliot and you, and I wouldn't dare drink around any of you."
"Elliot knows?"
"Yeah, he knows I'm an alcoholic. He doesn't like it, but he knows."
"Good." She took another scoop of ice cream, and shoved the container towards him.
end chapter 8
Dr Squidlove inappropriately touches all feedback. Concrit thoroughly welcome, warm fuzzies treasured. Here or at drsquidlove @@@ livejournal.com
The complete works of Dr Squidlove can be found at http://members.iinet.net.au/~tentacles/squidfic.html
S.
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Date: 2014-10-16 05:43 pm (UTC)I like the idea of Elliot crushing on Toby a little. Eventually, a lot I imagine.
It took me two chapters to get my versions of them to that point, but then I do move faster. And less carefully perhaps.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-17 10:26 am (UTC)Writing this really brought home for me how much everyone else suffered for Toby's sentence. His poor mother...
That's good. We can't all move at my glacial pace, or these two would never get anywhere.
Thanks, mazephoenix!
S.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-16 11:59 pm (UTC)And Poor Toby! Family. They mean well even if they do come on strong.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-17 11:28 am (UTC)Family can be so difficult when they know you better than you want them to... Especially siblings who aren't shy to express their opinions.
Thanks mulder!
S.
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Date: 2014-10-17 04:28 am (UTC)Your angry face isn't that different from your other faces. LOL
no subject
Date: 2014-10-17 11:30 am (UTC)Oh, great! I was a little worried that readers might dislike Angus - outsiders criticising our boys are rarely welcome - but he seemed like the one to say it.
Thanks so much, helvetica!
S.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-20 04:20 pm (UTC)Lots of lovely lines but the one that really killed me was "How many times do I need to be raped before I get a vote, Detective? How many of my children to do I need to bury?" The fact that Toby could say that to Elliot and get away with it, and the fact that it stopped Elliot in his tracks speaks volumes for the way this relationship has grown from their first meeting.
Excellent as ever. Now I can catch up with today's one, too! :)
no subject
Date: 2014-10-21 10:43 am (UTC)That's just what I want! I think a lot of stories write as though romance is two people getting to know each other completely, but really, our identity is made up of lots of smaller pieces, and Angus and Mrs Beecher and Elliot all have different pieces but they're all still Toby and the same is true of Elliot's family. After 20 years Kathy would have to know Elliot better than anyone - better than Toby could possibly know him in the scope of this story - but she doesn't know all of him... Which is some rambling, but that at heart is why I really love writing ensemble stories, building characters out of a multitude of relationships.
Writing this pairing is fun because Toby is both ends of the spectrum to Elliot, and yet the daily experience of him is somewhere in the middle. It's too easy to snap him in either direction, and knock Elliot off his game.
Thank you sparrow! I love your comments.
S.