|dusty (dustandroses) wrote in dustyrydersrecs,|
@ 2005-10-27 19:16:00
|Current music:||Picture In My Mind - Freakwater|
|Entry tags:||angst, au, author: calmerizzo/dorilon, beecher, beecher/keller, established relationship, fandom: oz, first time, keller, nc17, pretty damn good, slash, the dusty seal of approval|
Title: 23 Leroy Street
Author: Dorilon (callmerizzo)
Genre: Slash, AU, Angst
Pairing: Beecher/Keller, Beecher/OC, Keller/OC
Rating: NC17 (most of the time)
Warnings: WIP, Rough Sex, Some Bondage
Spoilers: Dori tosses the canon out the window around Season Two, Episode 3 Great Men
Notes: In this version, Keller never got arrested. Beecher and Schillinger continue trying to kill each other, and screwing up each other's lives, but eventually, Beecher gets paroled. He finds it difficult dealing with life on the outside. He finds his own unique ways to deal with the pressures of the Real World. I love this Alternate Universe. I think this is my favorite interpretation of Toby outside of canon. He's real, raw, and full of pain, and looking for some way to ease it. It just seems to work for me.
It is a WIP. I don't like to rec WIPs, but I just love the first chapters of this so much. I can just read them over and over, and I have, even before I knew she was still writing it, (although at a rather slow pace.) I don't care. I'll take what I can get.
A late Friday night in an early September, four months and counting post-Oz; crappy night for a walk, but that was the last thing on his mind. The air was still warm enough that the rain seemed more of a gift than a curse, and even the weatherman's threat of "a heck of a boomer" couldn't keep him from this thing he had to do -- this ritual, this compulsion, this whatever-you-call-it that allowed him to get through the rest of the week without doing something... worse.
From Sunday to Thursday, he belonged to *them*. After his release, his parents had insisted he stay at the house. They'd given him back his old room, his old office... and five days a week, under close supervision, they gave him his kids. They just wanted to *help* -- help him make the transition, help him 'ease' into his new life. He'd shrugged and agreed to whatever they said, kept his nose clean, met with his P.O... and on Fridays he quietly cleared off his desk, dropped his car into an anonymous lot, and 'eased' himself down to lower Eighth, where he trolled the streets looking for something to fill the aching, gaping holes inside him, the ones his parents knew nothing about.
Six weeks later, still looking, he'd 'eased' himself into a month-by-month lease on a slightly seedy Leroy Street walkup (something else his parents knew nothing about), where the neighbors kept to themselves and only occasionally wondered about the mysterious "T. Beecher" who sometimes holed up in apartment 4C.
Nope, a little rain wouldn't hurt. He'd learned long ago that whatever was seething inside him would not wash away. Besides, Friday was Friday, rain or no -- and if nothing else, he was a man of habit.
Mostly the addictive, destructive kind -- but
hey, anything'll do, in a pinch.
I rate this fic: Pretty Damn Goood