Title: Déjà Vu

Fandom: OZ

Series: Cause and Effect 1

Pairing: Tobias Beecher/Chris Keller

Author: Cerberus

Rating: R for language and m/m implications

Disclaimers: No infringement or disrespect intended to Tom Fontana & co. They own Oz and hold its characters fate in their hands, during certain hours of scheduled broadcast time that is ;.).

Archive: OzFic. Others feel free, just email me.

Notes: // denotes italics. Any typos or lapses in grammar are entirely my fault.

Spoilers: Everything through the end of season 4a. I incorporated some preditions for 4b into my original outline, but now things are set in stone, so You Bet Your Life is the jump off point.

by Cerberus

Yet another lockdown was over and Tobias Beecher watched as the other Em City inmates began to filter out into the open common area of the quad. Truth to tell, the lockdown had been shorter than most. The known facts overwhelmingly supported that Said's killing of Adebisi had been in self-defense. Said had turned the tape of Adebisi's antics over to Warden Glynn and Tim McManus. With that evidence, Querns had been shown the door and McManus had been put back in charge of Em City. Upon hearing that he was being transferred to gen pop, Adebisi had walked directly into their pod and attacked Said. Thanks to the sheets Querns had allowed Abebisi to hang for privacy and given how they felt about him, the investigators were all too willing to accept whatever Said said had happened out of sight. The investigation would be short, but Toby didn't think it would be sweet. No matter what the circumstances, he knew how much these events must have been hurting Said. He could only imagine the extent to which Said was probably punishing himself with guilt and self-flagellation locked away in the Hole.

Toby had not ventured out into the quad as soon as the glass doors had unlocked with a compressed air sigh. Grateful that he had had his pod to himself since Mondo's murder, Toby sat alone on his bunk and lost himself in his thoughts, a treacherous wilderness if ever there was one. As much as his son Gary's death still made him ache, he couldn't stop the mirthless chuckle from rising from his throat at the sameness of it all. He hugged his pillow a little harder, but he wasn't going to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing him start rocking back and forth. Oz seemed to shatter any trace of hope that things would change with the relentless feeling that every day was like the last and the next. Despite the distractions great and small he was still here, alone in this place facing his demons. Distractions, demons... Chris Keller. His love for Chris had been the best defense against the monotony and loneliness, and it was more than just a defense, wasn't it? //I wasn't in the relationship just for my own need for distraction, was I? Was that why it was so easy to believe Zabitz and that damn FBI agent?// He kept his eyes closed but laughed again. He was sure that if he opened them and looked across the quad he would see Chris watching him, leering at him. But if Chris wouldn't forgive him for thinking that he was capable of ordering his children kidnapped and killed, weren't the endless shared eye fucks across the distance between their pods something to share, something to pass the time. // Healthy hobbies just aren't our forte.//

A knock on the glass of the pod door drew Beecher's attention back to the present and Murphy standing in the doorway.

"You've got a new roommate coming in, Beecher. Let's go."

A protest died in his throat as he wordlessly followed the hack out into the quad. //Why can't I stop the crazy laughter so easily?// It wasn't like his bad luck with roommates was going to prevent this from happening. Abebisi, Vern, Hill, Keller, Hank Schillinger, Said, Mondo, they didn't tend to last too long one way or another. But regardless of the fact that he'd had quite a few different roommates, he had only gone through this little song and dance of sponsorship once and that was with Chris. //That sure had worked out well.// Having to do this again was rattling his nerves pretty strongly, and he wasn't in any shape for stress after the last few weeks.

Upon arriving at the processing area Toby looked up to see a solitary figure sitting and waiting. When he heard them approach he stood. Toby's first thought was that this man was not his type at all, but why was that? He had worked so hard not to define himself as gay and just concentrate on loving Chris that he had never really looked at other men. Sure there had been other men in the alcoholic haze after Chris' refusal to forgive him -- Shemin, Mondo -- but they had just been... there, not anyone he had sought out based on attraction. Did he have a type? Right now he really didn't care or want to know.

But with thoughts of his sponsorship at the beginning of Operation Toby filling his head, the comparisons of this man to Chris came unbidden. He was a little taller than Chris and almost as muscular with perhaps more definition, but the face wasn't right. The eyes were a matching blue, but that full, floppy black hair was way off the mark. He was too handsome, his features a little too chiseled. Where Chris' face was rough and smoldering, this man's face was bland and all-American, somewhere between boy next door and male model. But more to the point his face screamed "I don't belong here!" just as much as Toby was sure that his had on that first day here in Oz that seemed so long ago now.

Murphy stepped between them. "Michael Matthews, this is your sponsor, Tobias Beecher. He'll be your roommate and will show you the ropes around here in Em City. Grab your stuff and follow him."

With Murphy trailing them as far as the quad, they walked in silence to their pod.

//Okay, let's make the way things stand obvious.// "The top bunk is mine."

"Beecher, are you a fag?"

Toby felt the room start to spin. Chris had asked him that same question when they first met. From somewhere far away he heard himself say "No. Are you?" //Go ahead and say, "I do what I have to." I dare you.//

He must have been staring off into space for quite a while, because when he focused back on the room in front of him, Matthews was just looking at him out of the corner of his eye while he unpacked.

"Look, I'm sorry," Matthews said. "That came out all wrong. I don't want to get off on the wrong foot. What I meant to say was... Don't read anything in to this, but I'm gay and I just want to know if we're going to have a problem because of that."

//Wonderful. Things couldn't get any better.//

********************

Augustus Hill: Cause and effect. The choices we make shape the events in our lives, and then those events lead to more choices, and so on. Now when those events are ordinary and mundane, who cares, right? But when those events involve horrible acts, criminal actions, tragic accidents, well then the choices take on more importance, don't they? For the most part, a certain crime has a certain range of acceptable punishment. Oh sure, we look at extenuating circumstances and all that shit. We decide on a suitable sentence based on the facts of the case, but that's just what they are, the facts of the case. When it comes to understanding why the choice to commit an act was made, who decides how far back the to look for the reasons, the events in life that led to that choice? When the line of dominoes is falling, who looks at how far removed the first one to fall was from the final one? Does anyone check each domino to see if it really belongs in the line? And does anyone make sure that some asshole doesn't storm in from nowhere and start the line falling in the middle?

Prisoner number 00M289, Michael Matthews. Three counts of murder in the third degree. Sentenced to thirty years. Up for parole in sixteen.

*******************

Chris Keller fingered the valley between his pecs. The skin there itched for some reason and then he remembered that his St. Ditmas medal was gone. He had left it in the computer room after asking God to pick him for the thousandth time. That conversation pained him. He wasn't oblivious to his inconsistency, his knack for turning from penitent to predator in a heartbeat. After listening to Sister Pete's self- righteous tirade about how she was chosen by God, he had felt the heat of anger rising. Not wanting to feel the coolness of the medal on his skin, he had left it on the table, but now he longed for the odd comfort it brought him. A short time after the talk he had returned to retrieve it, but it was gone. He hoped that the nun had taken it with her. Otherwise, his chances of seeing it again were slim. //Yeah, like even Sister Pete would do me the favor of returning it.//

He shifted his gaze back to the pod across the way. Toby had come back from wherever he had gone with Murphy and he wasn't alone anymore. There was a new inmate with him that Chris didn't recognize. From the bundle in his arms, it was obvious that he was moving in. //Watch yourself, Toby, `cause I am.// The fresh meat was an impressive physical specimen. He looked strong, but not tough or hard. Sizing him up as an enemy was second nature to Chris and it wasn't like he had anything else to do. Anyway, it was always best to have all the information possible before any face to face confrontation.

Toby had been a good boy since McManus had come back, keeping mostly to himself. Despite the problems they were having right now, Toby was // his//. Chris read body language like a Vatican scholar and things looked decidedly tense in Toby's pod right now, but at the first sign of trouble he'd be ready to do whatever he had to do.

end
Deja Vu