Oz seemed an endless parade of deals, revenge, power plays, drugs, sex and mind numbing boredom. Each day was not greeted with enthusiasm, but rather indifference; the only changes that qualified notice, were those that Ryan O'Reily could use to sustain his life, and that of his mentally challenged brother Cyril. Fundraisers, survival instincts, ponzis, schemes, whatever their name Ryan embraced them all. No amount of information was too small to file away for another time. The slightest tidbit defined who lived, and whom the coroner claimed while Oz apathetically turned in orbit. Click, click, the keys in Ryan's mind sorted the influx of new information, the super computer his memory became backing up files and associating them with previous material on the hard drive.
Keller and Beecher were circling one another again. Keller had said something careless the prior night, and now Toby was over reacting and tormented Chris by refusing to forgive him. Same old, same old, and nothing of interest there: and yet their relationship fascinated him. For men who were allegedly straight, they couldn't get enough of one another. How man times had Beecher taken it up the ass, and Keller received the same in turn? Some nights when sleep refused to claim him, Ryan would watch the two lovers; envious that they had a warm body to lay upon, and more then their hand and the memory of sex to keep them company. It was more then just fucking, because the novelty of a purely sexual bond would have faded months ago. No, there was love; whatever it's degree; and understand it or not, approve of it or not, Toby loved Chris Keller, and expressed his devotion on a nightly basis.
Gloria Nathan would never give Ryan the satisfaction of knowing her touch beyond that of a professional capacity. She was a compassionate woman, loving and beautiful; but Ryan O'Reily was a prisoner; a murderer; an amoral sociopath and feel for him as she did, Gloria would never condescend to love him in the manner he loved her. There had been a kiss or two; chaste touches masquerading as need, but nothing further. She would not risk her career, her integrity, or mortal soul to save him. Sometimes Ryan thought she was weak, easily influenced by Tim McManus' pitifully incomplete worldview. Ryan's gut knotted at the thought: McManus and Gloria, one time lovers, off and now on again. Oh, he had witnessed their exchanged glances, little smiles when they thought no one was looking. Ryan looked; he always did for his continued survival demanded it. In his darkest moments, Ryan hated her for not loving him. Reason would creep into the viper's nest of his thoughts and remind him that his devotion to her was delusional. The O'Reily brothers were not meant to know pure love; that unconditional gift that people outside of their imprisoned lives seemed to find. There would be no one to stand beside Ryan through the worst life would throw at him. No woman was going to love him in spite of his past, forgive him his trespasses, and devote herself to building a life with him simply because she chose him. There would be no exchange of wedding vows, no children, no comfort in knowing that his soul mate was with him. For Ryan O'Reily there was nothing but a cunt of a psycho hack, an old nun, and a doctor who would rather fuck a shadow of a man, then a solid condemned one.
Ryan surveyed the second tier with his narrowed gaze, emotions screeching to a halt within him. No time to feel self-pity, he had work to do, schemes to plan, and business to conduct. A movement at the command center distracted him: Murphy. Now there was a mystery if ever there was one. On the one hand the man wore a uniform and for all intents and purposes took the badge on it seriously. However, there was another side to Sean Murphy; a man who would be hack; but not for the air of integrity Ryan had rarely seen and never respected, in any law enforcement individuals he had come across. In his short life there had been numerous skirmishes with the law and Murphy; well he was something special. With in his chest beat the heart of a true Irishman, yet it was swathed in the compassion of his heart; and for some reason, he seemed to play favorites where the O'Reily brothers were concerned. Normally Ryan would exploit the tendency to lenience, hugging the correction's officer tightly in his back pocket, but with Murphy? No; when it really mattered the man was there for him and Cyril; looking the other way, giving warnings instead of dragging their asses to the hole; play the sympathy card once too often and Murphy's blind eye would wear thin.
Ryan rubbed the long horn tattoo upon his right arm mimicking a scratching motion. Murphy was definitely one that could get under the skin and mean more then just a perk to the fundraisers cataloged within Ryan's mind. Sean was the real deal; balls out, someone who treated Ryan as a person, not just a con or some ignorant fuck off the street. No, there was far more to the CO then ethnic empathy. Ryan's fingertips bore into muscle probing at bone for the truth hidden underneath the exterior body. There were three universal motivators for the human condition: Power, wealth, and sex. Murphy was a hack; head of Em City's CO's, so power, he had. Wealth? Well, there was money to be made in Oz, but Murphy was the 'earn an honest paycheck', blue collar kind of guy. He didn't take bribes, and would crack anyone's skull who would dare offer; so that left the tried and true, perennial favorite: Sex.
Ryan watched Murphy exchange quiet words with a fellow CO, and then walk down the stairs of the control center. Ryan's gaze brushed across Murphy's, eliciting no acknowledgment from the man whatsoever. Ryan's stare absorbed every nuance of movement Sean made, his fingers stilling on his arm. So who in Oz was Murphy hot for? McManus? Ryan's spine straightened the sneer upon his lips spreading through his system like heated venom. Motherfucking McManus. Weren't him and Murphy supposed to be childhood buddies? Wasn't that just too fucking sweet, to even consider: childhood friends turned adult lovers? Nausea gripped Ryan's stomach, bile rising in his throat. No, it was bad enough McManus had tasted Gloria, claimed her as his own, but did he have to take Murphy too? Ryan's left eye twitched. Take Murphy? Where the fuck had THAT thought come from? Ryan rolled his left shoulder back and dropped his arm to his side. No, not McManus: Murphy wasn't fucking him so if not Tim, then who? Ryan's mind raced, data banks scrolling files past his eyes. Maybe he was approaching this backwards: what if Murphy wasn't fucking, but WANTED to be? Ryan's sneer oozed to a grin, as the list of possibilities began to take form.
Murphy halted and stood before the most dangerous inmate in Oswald. Ryan wasn't the strongest, most powerful or amoral: But he was cunning, Irish, and the most desirable man Sean ever had the misfortune of meeting. Ryan's lethal glare had shifted to a smug cat grin, and that combination was lethal. Someone was on his way down and the thought frightened Murphy somewhat; it also excited him. "What's the canary's name, O'Reily?" Understanding was slow to filter onto Ryan's expression, an indication that he was too deep in thought to even notice Murphy's approach. Definitely not a good sign.
"What?"
"I know that look. Who you have it in for?"
"No, you got it all wrong, Murph." The charming façade was back in full force. Seductive Ryan was on the prowl now, disarming foes and wooing hearts in its wake. "I wasn't thinking anything bad."
"Oh well excuse me if I don't believe you. I saw that mug of yours. You were ready to go nuclear."
"I'm not."
Sean raked his stare up Ryan's lean form and searched the younger Irishman's expression expectantly. "Bullshit."
"I was thinking about your buddy McManus, okay?"
"You know about his dating situation I gather."
Ryan nodded. "He goes home at night, I don't; so it doesn't matter how much I love her. I can't win against that, right?"
"He's not that bad of a guy, Ryan."
"Yeah? Well excuse me if I don't believe you." Quoted Ryan coolly. He felt Sean's close proximity and fear constricted his gut. "I'm getting over her. McManus is a useless piece of shit, but I know he's your friend." Ryan reached out and touched a hand to the CO's arm. "I wouldn't..."
Murphy dropped his gaze to their physical contact, then stroked his stare up Ryan's form once more. "You 'wouldn't', huh? I don't know about that, O'Reily." Sean reached out with one hand and removed Ryan's grip from his arm. "Now go do something other then standing around here making me suspicious. Please?"
"Sure." Ryan slid his hand from Sean's, the warmth and power of the fingers stunning him. Murphy said something in parting, words that Ryan saw form but did not hear, and the CO continued on his way. Ryan swallowed and dropped his notice to his open palm. There was no list, just as there was no lust for McManus; the only one Sean Murphy wanted in Oz, was Ryan. "Fuck." Whispered Ryan clenching his fist in order to prevent the tingling of the flesh from fading too quickly.
"What's on your mind, Sean?" Murphy turned away from the window facing out of Tim McManus' office, and looked at his friend.
"What's the stupidest thing you ever done in matters of the heart?" The question stumped Tim, and he sat down as he considered his immediate response.
"Too many to count. You know my track record, Sean."
"Do I. But still... if you knew something was wrong with everything that you are; but you also knew that nothing else in the world turns your head like this one does... Would you walk, or stay?"
McManus pondered the question, his eyebrows arching, lips flattening against one another. "Wait a minute, are you asking me what I'd do, or what I think you should do?"
"Whichever. Yeah."
"I would stay, I always do. But you, you're a practical man. Since we've been adults, I've never known you NOT to do the right thing. So you going to tell me what this is about?"
"No." informed Sean shaking his head. He glanced back over his shoulder at the prison. "You and Nathan getting along? This thing going somewhere this time?"
Tim studied his friend's back, and rolling the pen in his hand, he attempted to get a handle on where this discussion originated from, and where it might be headed. "I'd like to think so. I've been really careful, honest, taking my time. Gloria is a wonderful woman."
"You love her?"
"Yes." Then tentatively, "Do you?"
Sean stifled a laugh and turned to face Tim. "After all this time, you still think I was pulling your leg when I told you I was gay?"
Tim placed his feet upon the floor, and sat up in his chair. "No, of course not. I just... I don't know what you're trying to accomplish here. Do you want a sympathetic ear? Advice? Judgment? What, Sean? Is someone breaking your heart?"
"Yeah. He is."
There was a significant pause in the conversation, and McManus decided to prod gently. "Who?" Sean dropped his stare to the tile floor. "Wanna tell me about it?"
Sean shook his head. "It's embarrassing."
"Why? It's not," Tim paused, concern furrowing upon his brow. "it's not me is it?"
Murphy rolled his eyes. "Jeez; have a high opinion of yourself much, Timmy? No, you numbskull, it ain't you. But he is straight and that makes him inaccessible."
"Okay, so he's a heterosexual; but you guys are at least friends, right?"
"As much as we can be. I mean, I could spend more time with him, but it hurts knowing that he's out of my reach."
Tim sat forward in his chair, placing his forearms upon his desktop. "Are you positive that he's, that he would never even consider, possibly, maybe... I don't know; exploring other facets of sexuality? I mean, every guy's got a story right? Either he did, or he didn't, but the thoughts always cross the mind; even with me. It was after high school, and I was waiting to leave for college and... well, let's just say I got an offer. I refused it but I hesitated. I thought about; and for a split second there I could have gone either way. If he had been someone like youâ..." Tim paused, releasing a soft sigh of emphasis. "With you, I would have said 'yes'."
"And this is supposed to make me feel better? Tim, you really suck at this."
"Look, Sean; I know; I know how that sounded. I'm sorry." Reasoned Tim standing up and approaching his friend. "You're right, I can't speak for this guy; and I wasn't the one you wanted. But all I AM saying is, I don't know what to do for you, man. I don't know how to make you feel better when this is an all around shitty situation. I'm sorry..."
"Me too." Murphy dismissed his pain with a wave of his hand, and turned back towards the window once again. "It could be worse; it could be one of those assholes out there."
A flash of skepticism branded Tim's features as he stared at Murphy's back. "Yeah. I suppose it could be." Feeling useless, he watched his friend pull further away from him emotionally, preparing to exit the room altogether. "You're a great guy, Sean. Any man would be lucky to have you."
"Just not the right one, huh?" Murphy shook his head and offered McManus an affectionate smile. "I better get back. Have a few things to do before quitting time."
"Gloria and I were planing on catching some dinner, you're welcome to join us if-"
"Nah. You two go ahead, third wheel and all. Thanks though."
Guilt plied McManus' features with sympathy. "If you need to talk..." Murphy nodded and exited the office, feeling no better then he had when he entered it moments before. He could feel McManus' concern on his back and while he was grateful for the friendship he understood that it was no one's place but his own to change the current thread of the situation.
Murphy looked up from his task of scheduling the coming night crew, to Ryan's approach up the stairs. Cyril was in Em City and Dr. Nathan had the week off; common knowledge, so what could the inmate possibly want?
"Hey, Murph." The CO's heartbeat sped up at the purr of Ryan's voice.
"O'Reily." Murphy watched the inmate hover at the foot of the staircase, his slender form leaning against the railing as if he owned the prison. "What?" Ryan shrugged his right shoulder, and slid his left palm down the railing as if caressing a lover's appendage. His gaze swept over the tables and aimless prisoners, and his brother's back in the gathering in front of the television. Murphy's brow furrowed slightly at this observation, the lapse in speaking so unlike Ryan it concerned him. "Something wrong, Ryan?" At the use of his first name, Ryan met Murphy's dark eyes, seeing true interest in them.
"I don't...I don't feel so hot." Murphy frowned, his jaw clenching; he was losing his audience and Sean was misunderstanding his motivations completely. "I just feel-" panic hitching in Ryan's chest, he lowered his tone and sought out eye contact with the CO once more. "I feel like using again. Right now." Murphy stood up from the chair and moved to Ryan with such authority that Ryan wondered if he had angered him. Yet Murphy's expression was filled with such compassion and his tone so gentle, Ryan felt himself slipping into its hypnotic hold.
"You want to talk to Sister Pete?"
Ryan shook his head, then swallowed as his voice dropped to a smoky whisper. "You. I wanna talk to you."
Murphy cocked his head to one side. "I'm no counselor."
"So? I need trust, not advice." Ryan's gaze pleaded with Murphy's. "Ten minutes?"
Murphy surveyed the chamber quickly, his stare settling upon McManus' office. Empty. "Let's go."
Ryan's heart raced within his chest. FUCK! What the hell was he going to talk about once they were sequestered alone in McManus' office? Of all the lame brained ideas he had every entertained in his life, this was going to require some major bullshitting to get himself clear of. The fact that he was deceiving Murphy pained him, the guilt leaving none to foreign taste in his mouth. Why hadn't he been better prepared? The heat radiating off of the CO's body set Ryan's every nerve ending a fire. He not only felt the exact proximity of the man, but the authoritative presence beyond the uniform, or body: Ryan FELT Murphy. And the sensation stopped his breath cold, made him ache to surrender to the older man with everything that he possessed.
Murphy closed the door then shut the blinds to any prying eyes of Em City. Ryan paced the room, glancing at the chairs on the opposite side of the desk as if he wanted to sit down, then changed his mind. Helplessly he looked at Murphy, who casually crossed the room towards him. "What happened to make you feel like using?"
"I don't really." Honesty hung in the air between them, and patiently Murphy waited for Ryan to explain himself. "It gets hard sometimes. I think about Gloria, and how she's going to marry someone who's out there. Someone who gets to touch her, who didn't fuck up their life... I love her, I thought, I always would but I'm not certain anymore. I know that she won't ever be with me the way I needed her too; I know it- but every day that goes by, I stop caring a little more. Not about me, but her; how I feel about her." Ryan shook his head and looked around the room as if some object in it were the key to grounding him and supplicating his words. When nothing came to his rescue, Ryan locked gazes with the CO standing a mere few feet away from him. "I look at Keller and Beecher and I think- that's all that's left: I blew it; I fucked up my chance. Either no one loves me for the rest of my life, or I-" Ryan faltered, the words more difficult to say as his emotions mounted. "It's getting harder, Murphy. Who the fuck am I going to trust?"
"You said you trust me." Reminded Murphy gently of Ryan's spastic emotional hysteria. "You looking for hard answers? Or you just looking to vent?"
"I'm looking to catch a break!" silenced Ryan frustrated with his inability to reach out and touch Murphy's hand like he wished to. "What I want is for one night to go by where I don't have to fucking think. I want someone to fucking take care of ME for a change!"
"Would you settle for me giving it a try?" asked Murphy calmly. Ryan's entire demeanor froze, his stare desperately searching Sean's. "I'm not Dr. Nathan; I'm no beauty queen and I might not be working Oz until the day you die, but I'm here now. I'm not a fucked up psychopath, I haven't been beaten down by this place, and I sure as shit have no angle to work against you or Cyril."
"You're a hack," whined Ryan breathing the last word of the sentence, the sound clogging in his throat. He wanted Murphy to take full control.
"Yeah, and you're a con." Pain weighted Murphy's voice and he closed the distance separating them. This was insane, career and possible physical suicide, yet it was the only choice that Sean could live with. Ryan needed him; the simple truth obvious in the younger male's every breath. "But we're also Irish. We're friends; we're two guys who met in hell with more in common then the other thinks." Murphy reached out and placed a hand upon Ryan's shoulder, feeling the steel tension turn to liquid beneath his touch. Ryan's eyes fluttered close for a second as Sean stroked up the shoulder to the nape of Ryan's neck. "So the question is, are you going to trust me now, or not?"
"Trust you." Declared Ryan lost in the richness of Murphy's gaze. "I'm so fucking tired..."
"I know, Baby. Even the lord of the fucking dance has to stop sometimes. I'm here." System swarming with profound affection for the younger man, Sean gently pulled Ryan into his awaiting embrace. He felt a rush of hot air against his shoulder, when Ryan exhaled a sob of surrender. Muscles liquefied and Ryan relaxed within Sean's arms, slowly encircling his own around the CO, breathing in the scent of him, eyes closed to everything but the moment and the fear pulsating within him. Let go... for the first time in ten years Ryan uncoiled his defenses and merely stopped; existed; and breathed. His arms shook as he raised them to cling to Sean's shoulders and neck, his knees buckling, causing him to fall against the one person he knew he could show his true face to. "It's okay, Ryan. I won't let you fall."
The sob caught both men by surprise, Ryan's tears bursting forth as the dam of repression broke. "I fucking can't..."
"You don't have to." Promised Murphy cradling Ryan against him. "Not alone: I'm here. I promise; it's okay, Ryan." Sean pressed his lips to Ryan's left temple, leaving a tender kiss behind. "I'm here." Ryan tightened his embrace, clinging to Sean for dear life. "We'll work it out. Everything. I promise." Ryan could no longer verbally answer, dissolving into tears and the first peace he had experienced in many years.
Half an hour later Tim McManus frowned as he entered his office, trying to recall when he had closed the blinds that morning. The atmosphere in the empty office felt thick somehow, the feeling not at all unpleasant, merely odd. Shaking his head, he moved to sit behind his desk, thoughts wrapping around the tasks he needed to accomplish for the remainder of the day. Ryan had remained in his pod until the puffiness and red staining his eyes had faded, then returned to join Cyril for the closing credits of Miss Sally's Schoolyard. Murphy went back to the command center and the work schedule, making certain he would be on duty for the night shift next month.
Go to next part.