InsaneJournal

Who Keller, Holly, Beecher later
What Beecher is on the telly, and Holly wonders why. Chris wonders WTF.
Where Beecher's place
When Wednesday
Rating R for language at least. At least.


Chris hadn't been worried when Holly first said Toby had a look-a-like. Hell, he had Stabler and the guy was fun to mess with, so maybe Toby's would be the same. But when she said the guy was in jail, that set off alarms in Chris' head. Or rather, the echoes of alarms, of nights spent in a pod, of morning counts and unexpected shakedowns. He had paid more attention after that, and no had to see for himself. So, telling Holly to leave the tv as it was so he wouldn't have to have her figure out what channel it was on, Chris headed out from his restuarant, where he had been doing work. He stopped at the store on the way to the portkey, grabbing some corn chips, salsa, cheese and jalepeno peppers for Nachos for the movie they were going to watch later(hey, he said he was bringing snacks) and headed for the portkey, getting to Toby's door in no more than fifteen minutes.

He knocked on the door, shifting the bag in his hand, almost eager to see if the kid had stumbled upon something. Maybe Toby's double was in jail? Maybe there was old footage on air, their old lives coming back to haunt them? Hard to tell. He just wanted to see.

There was a minute of giggling and barking as Holly struggled towards the door, finally getting it open after a struggle with the door, and the dog. "Hey!" Pongo surged forward as she got the door open a crack, sniffing at Chris and the bag. "Sorry, I tried," Still giggling, she headed back to let Chris walk in, figuring he could handle Pongo and the bags himself.

"Hey, kiddo," Chris laughed at Pongo's leaping out to see what was what and he lifted the bag above the dog's persistant efforts to get his snout into it, "Go on, shoo," He said, nudging Pongo into the house as he shut the door behind him, "Where's your father, Holly?" Chris asked as he headed back to the kitchen to put the stuff away, Pongo following eagerly.

"He went to a library or something. He said 'school', so..." She shrugged, going back to hop up on the counter, watching Chris set the bag down and pull stuff out. "He'll be back in a little bit. Said he'd bring something for dinner." She was mature enough to be left home along for short periods by herself- or so Toby seemed to think.

"Left you here by yourself?" Chris smiled a bit, raising an eyebrow as he glanced at Holly, putting the chips away, "Fair enough," He commented, poking her in the side playfully, trying to play down the 'serious' business he had, "You pick a movie yet, shortstuff?"

She shrugged a shoulder, wincing away with a high-pitched giggle as Chris poked her. "Hee!- He does that, sometimes. I'm old enough to not burn the house down or something. It's just for a bit. And now you're here. No big deal," At the question about the movie, she hummed a little. "I dunno. Something actiony! How 'bout... Ocean's Eleven, or something?" Seeing the nachos she grinned. "Ooh, nachos! I had a taste for those." Another good guess.

"Ocean's Eleven? Really? You into that sort of thing?" Chris' eyebrows drew together as he smiled with disbelief-Beecher kind of had a cool kid. Who knew? "And yeah, nachos. I'm a big fan. Tell you a secret," Chris leaned over, to share said secret, "They're my favourite," He winked then put the salsa in the cupboard, "Okay, kid, I'm going to go upstairs for a bit, but I'll be down in a while. If your father comes home, tell him I'm here, huh?" He gave her another poke as he headed out of the kitchen, "Pongo, play nice." It was satisfying to hear the bark from the dog, really.

Holly grinned a little at the 'secret'- Chris was silly, but sort of cool, for one of her dad's friends, so she humored him with an exaggerated wink of her own, sliding off the counter at his decision. "Okay. Pongo and I'll be watching Spongebob," And, just like she said, the dog followed her dutifully out of the kitchen, off towards the family room and the TV.

"Alright," Chris grinned as he headed upstairs, going to Holly's room to see about this look alike. Sitting down on her bed and picking up her remote, door shutting with a nudge of his foot, Chris flicked on the television-and promptly swore.

And swore more, thanks to the wonders of rewinding the satelitte television. Leaning forward on the edge of the bed, Chris watched as Toby,

Toby, sang in front of the inmates, dressed as what could be called a woman, but Chris knew it was from Toby's prag days. His expression darkened as he watched on, and by the end, Chris wasn't sure what was making him more upset-the fact that some fucker had this all recorded or that Toby had been through all this. Sure, he had been told about it by Toby, by Schillinger-but seeing it was a whole different thing.

The door opened a while later, a muttered 'what the fuck' being cut off by the face on the television- thankfully, it wasn't him right then, but he'd stared at those faces for five years, he recognized them. "What the fuck is this?" His voice was louder than he intended, posture automatically stiffened faced with the reminder of his old life.

"Fuck," Chris was startled by Toby suddenly being there, in the flesh, and his eyes snapped up to the man as he stood, "Toby," Chris muttered, the feelings in him still confused and angry but he wanted to touch the man, to assure himself that this was Toby who wasn't a prag, who was okay now, or better, who wasn't anyone's bitch. He moved to stand beside the man, close to him, a hand raising to touch his lower arm, "It was on the television, Holly saw some of it, put a message on the boards and I came as fast as I could, told her to turn it off. Shit, Toby. It's Oz."

His eyes hadn't moved from the scree, brain racking to recognize the old faces, the details, figure out when the... video, whatever it was, was from. He saw Said was in the hospital, barely registering the words, either on the TV, or from Chris. "Said's heart attack. That was-" He turned away, mouth setting in a hard line. "Shut it off." His voice was soft, but firm, trembling with something between fear and rage.

Chris stepped away, taking up the remote to switch it off before again putting himself at Toby's side, touching his arm with one hand, his shoulder with the other, "I'm sorry, baby," He muttered, stepping forward, leaning his forehead against Toby's, "I don't know how or who or what the fuck that is, but I'll find out, and I'll take care of it, okay?" He didn't like how this show or whatever was making Toby look like that, he didn't like anything that made Toby look like that.

In an inherently bad place, he didn't even think before shrugging the touches off, moving to pace away a bit. "What the fuck- there's no fucking- shit. What did she see?" He wasn't so concerned about Chris' reaction. He knew most of it- the larger portions. It was his daughter- she saw that. Saw him like that. The thought alone made him feel sick.

Having thought he might be pushed away, Chris just stayed where he was when the man did just that, his eyes following him as he paced, "She thinks it's a double of you. She turned it off because you were doing something weird, she said. I don't know exactly what she saw," He admitted, "Listen, Toby, it's okay, she doesn't know it's you, she thinks it's your double. I'll back you up. She doesn't need to know."

"A double with my name?" He gave Chris a hard look, turning back to the dark screen with an even harder glare. "She's not stupid. She'll get curious, and she'll figure it out, and... fuck." He slapped the wall, hard enough to rattle her shelf. He'd thought he was past this. Left it behind. But there it was, in fucking technicolor. He just couldn't get away.

Of course, Chris had it in his mind to worry about what if there was more to this show. What if he was on it? What if more about their past lives was revealed? It could really fuck things up for them. But he tried to focus on the moment at hand. He moved closer to Toby, not touching but just being close, "Toby, she's smart, sure, but she's not going to believe this. Not about her father. Look at you. You're a great dad, you're going to fucking school, for fuck's sake. That," He pointed at the television, as if it were the guilty party, "That is not who you are to her. This is," He placed a hand on the man's chest, trying to calm him, sooth him, something. It wouldn't do having the man freak out.

He gritted his teeth at the touch, but didn't push Chris away this time, trying to let the touch linger. "They're not different people anymore. You can send me back to school, put me in a suit, but I'm still that- I'm still that." Toby mimicked the hand motion, eyes falling to the floor. "I'll never get away from it."

"Fuck, Toby," Chris shook his head, frustrated, "You aren't that. Fuck that. Look at you. You're nobodies bitch, remember?" Chris moved, shuffled his feet, uneasy, like an animal trying to figure out fight or flight, and he finally shifted away, towards the television, pointing at it, "That is not you, Toby. That isn't what you are now. Your mine, Toby, but I'm yours, too. I'm yours right back, baby, and we're free of that shit, and we're moving on, okay?" He ramble might have sounded almost manic as he tried to find the right words to calm the man, the right combination to defuse Toby.

Toby actually found it in him to laugh, although it was a manic, almost-hysterical sort of sound. "What fucking part of this is okay, Keller? We're on fucking cable TV. Your lawyer friend, Stabler, his kids- everyone we know here, can see that shit. Ask questions- realize who the fuck we really are. How is that okay?"

"Beecher, Christ," Chris moved back to the man, standing in front of him, over him, "Listen to me. I'll fucking handle this. No one's seen it yet, have they? Well?" He questioned, tilting his head, his own mania showing in his eyes as he narrowed them, "Don't fuck this up, Beecher. Don't go crazy on me now. We'll work this out. Come on. You know I can handle this." And the fact that Chris sounded completely confident about the matter probably didn't hurt.

Eyes narrowing right back, Toby was hardly in the mood to be pressured like that. He stood his ground, fist clenching at his side, jaw taut. The sound of the crack of a stair actually made him jump, turning just in time to see Holly standing in the doorway, frown fixed on her face. "A-are you guys okay?" Her voice was tiny, almost scared- she hadn't seen her dad that angry, since almost three girlfriends ago.

Toby took a deep breath, visibly swallowing. "We're fine. Go downstairs, Holly."

"But I-"

"Go," His voice was sharp, and he nodded back in the direction where she came. Frowning a little, she turned and headd down the stairs, back to her cartoons. If they were going to be mean, she didn't want to watch. That's all it was.

Chris visibly changed-from narrowed eyes to a more easy look, a smile given to Holly, "We'll be done in a bit to watch Ocean's, alright?" He said to her after Toby spoke, giving the man a glare before shutting the door behind Holly, sighing, "Beecher, listen. We faced worse. Fucking Aryans, FBI, shit, we took them all. We can handle this."

His face screwed up, into something of angered disbelief, as he shook his head. "You just don't fucking get it. Fine, whatever- handle what you think you can handle," Huffing out a breath, he turned and headed out the door, towards the bedroom and a much needed shower.

"Fuck," Chris watched the man go, his fists clenching as he stared at that damn television set-of all the things that could be blamed for what they had saw, Chris figured it was the best place to start. "Fuck," He ground out as he walked over, and with little thought besides fixing things, or starting to, he yanked the television from the wall and threw it on the floor, the screen shattering with a few sparks as he booted it (thankfully he had left his shoes on with his nervousness about seeing this show Holly had told him about) across the room, cursing again. All his efforts to keep Beecher happy and this had to come along to fuck it up. And on top of everything, now he owed Holly a new Television set. However, standing over it, panting slightly from his out burst, he had to admit he felt a bit better.

Toby didn't seem too concerned about the fate of Holly's television, too caught up in his own demons to bother going to check on the other man. He headed into the bathroom, shutting the door behind himself and stripping down. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he stood over the sink, staring in the mirror for a long second, trying to gather his thoughts.Just that second of images, the reminder of what had been, flooded his mind with thoughts, memories of his life back hen. He felt dirty, used, worthless. He just wanted to scrub it all away. Turning the shower on, as hot as he could stand, he stepped under the stream, hissing with the feel of the hot water against his skin. It burned, obviously, but it went a long way to help him feel at least a bit cleaner.

There was a side of Chris that thought he should probably clean up the television, lest Holly come in and step on broken glass, and that made him huff out a laugh as he rubbed at his forehead. When the fuck had he become so concerned? But, there he was, picking up the bigger pieces of glass and tossing them in the garbage can they had in their room. He managed to cut himself, distracted as he was, but he didn't care. He didn't even feel it, only noticed it when he saw blood on his shirt, cursing again and looking around to make sure he hadn't gotten any on the floor. At least it wasn't a deep cut, so he just kept up his clean up, his mind taking the time to complete the task to focus itself. The first outburst aside, Chris knew what he had to do. He had to look up the series name, he had to see how far it went. He didn't want anything ruined at this point by some fucked up television show.

After a long steam in the shower, Toby finally removed himself, skin starting to flush with protest, but nothing burned too badly. He scrubbed himself down, ignoring the angry red his body turned when exposed to the cold. He went to the bedroom to dress, finding himself standing and simply staring at the clothes, once again lost in thought.

Finished with the TV fit, having grabbed some bandages from the downstairs bathroom, pointedly avoiding the family room and Holly as he took the television out back, Chris came into the room to look at Toby, moving to sit on the bed. He set to his bandaging without looking at the man, the red skin a clear sign of what the man had done. He waited as he finished his quick job before speaking.

"Feel better?" He didn't care what reaction that got from the man, as long as it got something.

The only response he got was a snort, Toby seeming to decide to forego clothes as he walked back to the bed, sliding under the covers. He took note of the bandaging on Chris' hand, but bit back the snide remark, not wanting to try and put on the show, right then.

Biting back his own angry words over how the man was acting, over how he was being pathetic, Chris stood up and pulled off his shirt to put on a new one, shaking his head, "Whatever, Beecher. Do what you gotta. I'll be downstairs watching a movie with Holly. There'll be fucking nachoes when you're hungry," He felt like rubbing it in that he was pulling it together for the kid, he felt like being petty, and he went with it, shaking his head as he left the room.

Holly looked up as subtly as she could, as she heard the noise in the kitchen. Seeing Chris, she sat up a little, watching him with a probably-familiar wary expression.

Getting the nachos started, sliding them into the oven, Chris came into the room, sitting down, a smile for Holly as Pongo padded over to sit down beside him, nudging his bandaged hand (oddly, the same hand only recently healed from his burning incident-rough luck for that hand) for a pet.

"Hey, kid. Sorry about that."

"Why were you fighting?" She curled around the pillow she'd been laying on, that she'd moved for Chris to sit, a defensive sort of posture. She didn't want them mad at her- it was jsut a dumb TV show.

Chris was thoughtful for a moment. Maybe now was the time to see how smart the kid was. Looking at her, he frowned a bit, "Your father thinks you might think less of him because of what you saw that man that looks like him on the show do," He wasn't going to give her any prompts-well, not any he was trying to give. Everyone had bias, after all.

Holly frowned right back, brows knitting together. "It's just a TV show. Why would I- it wasn't real..." She seemed to think on that, watching Chris as if he might have the answers.

"Because he looked like your dad," He tried not to sound like he thought the idea was crazy, that since a man looked like another one, he could be judged for what he did, but he know it slipped in. And frankly, he didn't care. Anything to keep Holly happy with who her father was and keep Toby from freaking out. "He's afraid you might think that since he looked like him, that he acted like him. But you know that's not true, right?" Screw no prompting.

"Dad wasn't in jail," She gave Chris a little eyeroll, shaking her head. "And that man was an actor. I'm not stupid enough to believe things on TV. Can we just watch the movie, now?"

Grinning a bit, Chris gave the kid a poke, "Exactly," He snorted, liking her eye roll. So Toby-well, when the man wasn't being bitchy. "Put it in, and I'll get the nachos, alright? You want a soda to drink?" There. He figured that was settled as he got up to go get their snacks. Now he just had to fix Toby, buy a new tv and settle this show business and he'd be set.

She grinned right back and nodded, sliding off the couch to put the movie in. "Ooh, orange, please," Polite to a fault- at least she had dropped the 'mister' for the most part. She grabbed the box and put it in, grabbing one of her play tables and hauling it over to the couch so they'd have somewhere to put their drinks.

"Of course," Chris took a few minutes to get the warm nachos on a plate, bringing those out and setting them down, pointing at Pongo, "Not for you," Before going to get their drinks, returning to sit down beside Holly with a smile, "You know what? I've only seen the original of this one," He grinned a bit as he sat back. He kind of wished Toby was sitting with them, but he wasn't about to go and drag the man out of bed. Not when he was working through whatever memories he had. It wouldn't be good for Holly to see her father like that, anyway. And not good for Toby to be seen like that, either.

"Dad has that one too, somewhere. Frank Sinatra kidna creeps me out," She reached over to grab a nacho, watching with a giggle as Pongo snapped up the pepper that fell from her hand, whining as he bit into it. "I don't think he likes those,"

"Old blue eyes? Really?" Chris laughed at that, "I can see Sammy making you a bit nervous, but Frank?" He eyed Pongo as the dog flicked his tongue about a bit, "That's what you get for having a hot pepper, pooch. Go on, there's water in the kitchen. Go on!" He pointed, and Pongo just stared at Chris before smacking his jaws and padding off to his dish, "Thought so," He smirked as he leaned back and eyed the screen, "George Clooney. He's the guy from ER, right?"

She gave him a look, shrugging, "'Dunno. I don't watch TV that late." She took another nacho before sitting back, watching the movie in silence for a while. As time went on, she scooted closer to Chris, inch by inch, before she was left leaning on his arm a little, obviously tired.

He couldn't believe how smooth the Clooney guy was-He could have been a good Sinatra replacement, he supposed, if he was less into the chick. Frank was never that into the chick. Chris noticed Holly moving closer, and once he glanced down to see how she was drooping a bit, he smiled and moved his hand to ruffle her hair a bit, "Hey kid, maybe you should get to bed. Looking a little tired," He spoke almost fondly. If only Toby could see this. It was the tree falling in the forest thing, really. If Chris was caring with a kid, and there was no one around to see it...

"M'not," She mumbled, although it was obvious the touch to her hair had woken her up, the way she rubbed at her eyes. "They didn't even get in the vault yet!" She was whining, reaching for her pop in a feeble attempt to wake herself up a bit.

"Oh, come on, I know a tired little girl when I see one," Chris nudged her, "We can finish it tomorrow, okay? I'll make popcorn, even. Or maybe we'll have pizza for supper, alright?" He moved a bit, "Come on."

His moving kept her from getting comfortable again, so she finally sighed, reaching over to grab the remote and stop the movie. "Okay, fine," She sounded put-out, but also tired, as she slid off the couch and went to the kitchen, to put her soda back in the fridge. Then she was on her way up the stairs, towards her room.

Watching her go, Chris grabbed the nachos to wrap and put in the fridge in case he was hungry later, and he followed her upstairs, "Oh, hey-"He said before she got to her room, "I had a bit of an accident with your television, but I'll go and pick you up a new one tomorrow while you're at school, so don't worry about it, alright?"

Her head popped back out of her doorway, and the word 'accident' got him a skeptical look, but she nodded. "Okay. Just try not to break that one too, yeah?" She was just teasing, giggling a little before slipping back into her room. "Night, Chris,"

"I'll try, but you know how it is. Clumsy," He held up his bandaged hand with a grin right back for her before nodding, "Night, Holly," He headed into the bathroom for a bit before into Toby's room, shutting the door behind him, eyeing the man in the bed with a bit of weariness, wondering if he had managed to calm down at all.

He didn't say anything as he pulled off his shirt and shoved off his pants, down to his boxers as he got into the bed and kept his distance, not wanting to make the man make a fuss over him touching him.

Toby had calmed down some, but he was still awake, lying on the bed and simply staring at the ceiling. Other than a cursory glance at Chris when he slid into the bed, he didn't react, trying to just will himself to sleep.

Chris let the silence go on for a moment before he finally snapped, "She doesn't believe things she sees on TV," He said quietly, not having any tone in his voice, so the man wouldn't accuse him of gloating, his own eyes looking up at the ceiling.

"She shouldn't have to see it. It shouldn't fucking be there, Chris." A beat, as he took a deep breath, "Why can't the fuck just stay dead?"

"Toby," Chris trailed off for a moment, shaking his head, turning it to look at the man, "He is dead, just like that version of you is. That man you saw today, that's not you. That is who you used to be, and you left that behind. He's a part of you, sure, but a latant one. You, this Toby, the Toby I love-he's the one in control now. Not the man we saw today. Not that Nazi fuck. No one but you, Toby. You got to believe that. And you got a beautiful daughter who loves you, a job you're good at, a house. Me," He reached out there, just brushing his fingers along the man's arm, "You kill him away more and more each day you fucking live, Toby."

It took him a lot of effort not to flinch, making him huff again. "Funny, that's not what this feels like." He sat up and away from Chris, turning to face him, "Why are you acting like I'm overreacting about this? Who- I can't..." A hand ran through his longer hair, pulling at it a little. "What the fuck is going on?"

"Because if I don't, you've got a fucking daughter in there who will wonder what the fuck happened to her father when you go nuts, Beecher," Chris just moved back to his side of the bed, shrugging a shoulder, "I don't know what's going on. I don't know, and it scares the shit out of me, alright? It scares the shit out of me, but we can't both be fucked up over this, so I'm trying to pull my fucking weight around here until you calm down, alright?" He shrugged and rolled onto his side, back to the man, to show he didn't care for being looked at, didn't care for the man's confrontation, "I'll fucking figure out who's doing this, and I'll kill them. Add another fucking tick to the counter, Beecher." Truthfully, Chris hadn't had time to properly react to the show. And he didn't even know how bad it was. He had to see if there was more.

"And what if it's God? 'Gonna fucking take on the Almighty for taking a shot at me?" A beat, "Maybe this is just hell. Maybe I died, on the bus, and this is just hell. The TV show is a carefully constructed ploy to make me relive my weakness, wallow in my fucking misery," He sounded a bit hysterical, but at least he was trying to rationalize things out.

Chris rolled his eyes, though it couldn't be seen, his shoulders tensing visibly however, "Oh yeah, maybe half an hour of your past in a world of possibilities is Hell. Fuck off, Beecher," Chris was touchy on the subject of the after life after his dying on the operating table, after seeing Hell. Or so he believed, "This isn't Hell," He said firmly, for he believed he knew what it was like. And this didn't burn, this didn't tear at his very soul. Chris was happy. Fuck Beecher for even thinking it was Hell, let alone saying it.

"Then fucking what, Chris? You'd think I'd fucking remember someone walking around, filming that shit," Like Chris had any right to be fucking pissed at him, over this. He wasn't the one getting fucked on TV.

"Then maybe it was fucking God doing it, alright?" Chris finally sat up, staring at Beecher, jaw set for a moment before he went on, "Listen, alright? You fucking going ape shit now ain't going to do us any good, and it sure as shit isn't going to do Holly any good. So calm the fuck down so we can talk about this like rational fucking adults or I'm fucking leaving, okay? I don't need this shit. I saw the man I love getting raped, humiliated and broken and I can't do a fucking thing about it. I can't kill Schillinger, he's already dead. Can't kill who ever made that fucking show, because I don't know who they are. Can't fucking do a God damned fucking thing right now, and you know sure as fuck it's going to make me go crazy,Beecher, so you better get this fucking tantrum out of your system because you are going to need to be sane once I go off the fucking handle. Someone is going to pay for this, I give you my word, Toby."

Listening to that did wonders, to bring Toby back down to Earth. Toby stared at his hands as Chris spoke, simply nodding once he was over. "I'll help you fucking kill them," He was sitting dangerously still, visibly working to keep himself from shaking, punching Chris, doing something. Everything in him wanted to move, but when it came down to it, he was afraid to. Afraid of what he would do. So he simply didn't do anything.

Snorting, Chris rolled his shoulders in a shrug, watching the man, sizing him up, ready for an attack if it came, "Anything you want, Toby," He said simply, as if it was that easy. As if Chris could make it happen, could get them the revenge they needed with that agreement. He would focus on this, no doubt, for a while. He would work it out. If not for himself, for Toby. It wouldn't do, the man falling apart now, after how hard chris had worked.

He seemed to watch Chris for a long moment, before just bulking, lying back down, turning over. Just like that, with those four words, Toby seemed to calm whatever had come over him. Whether it was trust in Chris, or simple exhaustion, was anyone's guess. But at least he seemed somewhat less hysterical.

The man's relaxing made Chris less tense, and though he still looked a bit suspicious, he reached a hand over, wanting to touch Toby, to give comfort to the man as much as to himself. He had to regain the contact with the Toby that wasn't crazy, that wasn't distant with him. It frustrated him that all he worked for could be broken so easily, or at least cracked, and he moved closer, his hand trailing along the man's shoulder. He was silent, not wanting to add any possible wrong words to the moment. He wasn't stupid-He didn't have to take more of a chance at mincing words as well as an unwanted touch.

Toby did, in fact, shrug the hand off, but it was a momentary thing, before he turned on his side, pressing himself against Chris. He didn't say anything, just huffed out a breath and settled in. Part of him- the faggot part, the weak part, simply wanted to be held. He knew better than to ask for it, instead simply taking it.

Chris eased his arms around the man when Toby turned to him, and he pulled him closer, not saying anything about it. For once, he didn't think of it as gay-no, he was protecting Toby, and there wasn't anything gay about it. The man needed this to stay sane, to stay focused, and Chris needed it to stay grounded, to stay useful (in his opinion) though the man's attempt at working through it. His hand smoothed up and down the man's back in what he hoped was a soothing action. "I'm here, Toby," He whispered, not sure why, but feeling the need to voice that assurance.

His sigh was a bit shakier that time, but he didn't let himself break further than that, instead draping his arm over Chris' stomach and turning to kiss the bare expanse of his chest. "I love you," It was a whisper, but steady. Sure. One of the few things he was actually sure of, right then.

His held tightened for a moment, the words giving him a rush of warmth as he gave a slight nod. For all his smugness and confidence, those words certainly did validate a part of Chris that questioned if his efforts were worth if, if not killing Toby, if loving him, was the way to go. "I love you, too, Toby," He spoke just as softly, his lips brushing a ghost of a kiss against Toby's forehead.

He nodded, mainly for his benefit, seeming to relax at the words. He was exhausted, but somehow having Chris there, feeling the man's arms around him, was enough for then. At least enough to let him try and sleep.