Chapter Text
Dynasty decapitated
You might just see a ghost tonight
And if you don't know you know now
I'm taking back the crown
I'm all dressed up and naked
I see what's mine and take it
(Panic! at the disco - The emperor's new clothes)
****
Peter was lying on the lower bunk, legs drawn up, fingers digging into the sheets. His head was thrown back, small struggles going through his body at every motion Cyril made where his face was buried between Peter's legs. Cyril was caught up in his task, couldn't concentrate on much more than every breath and sound escaping Peter.
****
If Cyril should have learned something in Oz, or in life in general, than that things didn't just go well. And to even think that happily ever after was something to get here, if at all you could get life.
But yeah, it had been bound to happen. Ryan could tell him about this. But it did happen in the stupidest way possible.
No matter how he'd found out, maybe he was just unexpectedly perceptive. But there he stood, cornering Cyril, when no one cornered Cyril O'Reily.
"You guys are fucking each other." Adam exclaimed. He gave a disgusted laugh. Which was quite a feat to pull off for a guy with make-up and the tiniest pig-tails the world had ever seen. "So, this is how it's going down." He sneered. "You will help me, or I will tell everyone about your little tryst with Schibetta."
Cyril genuinely considered killing Adam right then and there. It seemed the best solution to make sure the man stayed silent. But killing one of their prags would mean war with the Aryans. There were certain boundaries that couldn't be crossed. But protecting him? How was that supposed to be possible? Toby had practically sent that guy there, he wouldn't protect him. But if he told Toby... Toby would understand. But that still meant beef with the Aryans. Which they already had. Latest since Cyril had stabbed Schillinger. Or he could ask Toby what they should do. But should he really put that on Toby? It was one thing to hand Adam over to the Aryans but to decide to kill the guy in cold blood, was that really something he wanted to force Toby to decide? Was that not just selfish?
****
Toby understood, of course he understood. He listened quietly to him, not interrupting him and then he helped. Like he always did. Because while Cyril often could not rely on Ryan, he could always rely on Toby.
"Don't tell Ryan." Cyril urged.
"I won't. But you will. At one point. You will have to. Nothing stays secret in Oz. Not for long."
"Sorry, Ryan." Toby said. "I can't reconcile this with my conscience any longer. We have to save Adam."
"Are you kidding me?"
"We had a deal, Beecher."
"Well, you know me, Vern. I guess my morals just got the better of me again."
"Our deals off then."
"I don't think it is. I'll stay in the mailroom."
"You don't decide that."
"No, McManus does."
"You think you can just waltz in there everyday and we'll let you."
"I already have been, these past weeks, Vern. Try me. See what happens. You try to hurt me, you try to hurt Chris, just remember that your son is still in Psych Ward."
****
Why was he taking that risk? He would be out of here soon if he didn't fuck up. Now was not the time to get into trouble with Schillinger. Was it his subconscious still looking for a chance to kill Schillinger before he got out of here? Or was he trying to do something good before he got out? Not saving Adam, he had no pitty for the guy. But helping Cyril. Helping Cyril who was trying to protect someone he cared about. Maybe it had been time to do that. He and Cyril were close. And still he'd always taken Ryan's side. Always backed up Ryan or stayed silent no matter what ploy. No matter that Cyril was the one who ended up with the short straw. Toby didn't know what the reason was. He'd like to think that there was still some moral compass inside of him. But he couldn't be sure.
****
"Yeah, that's right, you fucking faggots. You better make sure I'm happy or I'm going to sing so loud everyone in here will know."
Adam was being his old obnoxious self since they'd saved him. Gone was the crying and begging for help.
And every single day Toby's patience with him was waning. But killing him, even having Cyril do it wasn't an option. Not when he was so close to being paroled. So he gritted his teeth and stayed silent. As he'd done so often before in his life.
****
"He knows?!" Peter suddenly stormed into their pod, voice hushed but frantic.
"What?" Cyril turned around.
"Adam knows about us?"
"I– We got this under control."
"No! You don't understand! No." Peter looked like he was going to get sick. "I cannot– This cannot all have been for nothing. No one must ever find out."
"Peter, I'm sorry. But Ryan and Toby already know and they didn't say anything. And no one's going to believe Schillinger. So, please, don't worry about Adam."
"No. No." Peter was shaking his head frantically. "That's not– I cannot." His hands twitched. "No. I cannot take that risk. We–" He looked back at Cyril, suddenly, like he was seeing him for the first time. "This is over. I'm sorry."
"What– No," Cyril tried to reach out, but Peter's hand gripped his midway, pushing it down again. "We can deal with this. Peter, I– please."
But Peter just turned around and left.
****
The next morning Adam was found shanked in one of the supply closets. Everyone assumed it had been the Aryans who were still upset with their pet running away. Schillinger didn't seem too upset either. Even though, Cyril was pretty sure he hadn't done it. And how Peter had managed to sneak Adam away from the Irish who were protecting him, Cyril didn't know. He didn't ask either.
Peter would still talk to him normaly. It would have been more suspicious after all had they suddenly ended their friendship. But he wouldn't let Cyril touch him. He would block all attempts at trying to talk about it.
Only the one time Cyril actually got him to talk when they were alone in the pantry of the kitchen. But Peter just got really angry.
"You know what I've been through." he told Cyril with a cold, bitter voice. "How I had to fight and how I'm still fighting to get any resemblance of a rep back. Are honestly asking me to jeopardize that for a fuck?!"
Cyril had nothing to answer to that. Because, yeah, he couldn't ask that of Peter.
****
"Why?" Ryan asked, falling in step beside Peter in the cafeteria.
"He told you." A statement, not that surprised.
"Of course he told me. He tells me everything."
"Why you're asking?"
"What's it mean for us?"
Peter snorted. "Us?"
"You know what I mean."
"Nah." Peter sneered. "You're good. And I even thought of a way you can make it up to me."
Ryan looked at him apprehensively.
"Chucky's girlfriend. Rita Moreno."
"I thought he killed his girlfriend."
"Oh no. That was months earlier. Took the cops some time to pin it on him. My sister tells me Rita's a bit lonely with Chucky in here. So I want you to tell a few choice people, during lunch maybe, what a whore she is and that you slept with her, back in the day."
"Are you trying to get me killed?"
"Is that a rhetoric question? Don't worry, your little brother will look out for you. Like he always does. But that's not all. You know the op your man Jason is running with Luigi?"
"Yeah. What of it?"
"You'll get one of the guys from Jason's crew to make a pass at Rita. I mean full on getting to date her."
"No one's that stupid."
"I'm sure you'll convince someone it's a good idea and that Chucky's a reasonable, laid-back guy. I mean if someone can do it, it's you." Peter smiled sardonically.
"You got not problem with that girl ending up in a bag too?"
"That's Gene's niece. Even Chucky isn't that dumb."
"I see what I can do."
"Please do." Peter said through his teeth.
****
It would be cruel to Cyril, to expose Ryan now that they were finished. It wouldn't be fair. And Ryan was no more threat to him as long as he still had that knowledge. If he did expose it, though, oh, then it would get really ugly.
****
"How are you doing?" Cyril asked one morning as they were shifting crates in the kitchen.
"That doesn't have to concern you any longer." Peter replied curtly, uneasily. "I made my choice. That means I have to deal with this alone now."
"No, it doesn't." Cyril replied, brows furrowed in consternation. "I'm still there for you."
"Don't make me feel worse than I already am." Peter said, turning away from him.
"Are you?..." Cyril asked.
"Of course I am." Peter turned around, irritation plain on his face.
Cyril smiled a little, despite himself. "We could..."
"We could what? Huh? We could what, Cyril? Tell me how the world's suddenly changed and become a different place."
"Sorry." Cyril took a step back, putting up his hands.
"Don't apologize to me." Peter said even more disgruntled. "I'm not your fucking girlfriend."
****
"Maria." Chucky sat down in front of her. "You look good."
She gave him a thin smile. "I see you still work out."
"You still with Theo?"
"No, I'm not."
"Wasn't for you anyway. That guy couldn't handle you."
"Neither could you."
"True. But I tried."
"Sure." she drawled. "I should be so lucky. At least you didn't drown me."
"Hey, you know me. I'm a passionate man." He smirked at her. "All heart."
She only answered that statement with another unimpressed and slightly disgusted smile.
"What do you want, bella?" he then asked.
"Leave Pete alone."
"Whyever would I not leave him alone, donna mio? He's family." Chucky smirked and Maria wondered how she'd ever been attracted to him.
"He is." Her face went hard. "And you do better to remember that. My family. Antonio's family. Gene's family. In here you might have forgotten my father. But believe me. Outside we remember."
"Threatening me. And there I thought you'd come to beg."
She sneered at him. "When have you ever seen me beg?"
"No, of course. Nino's precious daughter's too good for everything."
"He's my little brother, Charles. You know he's no match for you."
"You know that. I do. He doesn't."
"For me, Charles."
Maria drove back home. She took off her heels, peeled herself out of the pecil dress and wiped off the make-up. She put on sweatpants and a shirt and slumped down on the couch taking a deep breath. Then she picked up the phone and dialed.
"You were right. He's scared." There was the first happy laugh she'd heard from her brother since his arrest. "That makes him more dangerous. You know that."
"Yeah, I know."
****
Things weren't good lately. Not at all. At least not for Cyril. Peter seemed to be doing fine. No more nightmares. And Schillinger, Schillinger didn't seem to scare him either. It was a good thing. But also weirdly unsettling, the sudden rapport that seemed to have build between them. He saw them talking once, outside Sister Pete's office. Peter's whole body language was different, taking up more room, confident, not protective or defensive. He stood there open and unafraid. He knew Peter was blackmailing Schillinger. And he was happy Peter had worked through what had happened somehow. But this change was sudden.
****
He could either freak the fuck out or get the fuck over it. His father had taught him that there was only ever one answer to that.
And if he tried hard enough he could almost convince himself that it had actually never happened. That it had been one of his nightmares. Because things like that didn't happen to him. So when he met Schillinger to talk about business there was no reason to feel ill at ease. Because nothing had happened. And Schillinger didn't dare bring it up either. Visitation rights could after all be revoked anytime. And the sick part was Schillinger seemed to actually appreciate Peter having offed Adam.
****
Peter stood quietly in the back, exactly as Chucky had told him to, as Orsini argued with Chucky what he'd been thinking ordering a hit on one of the crew of the Micks they were running their pipeline through. Jason Flannagan's best friend at that (Ryan really was an overachiever, he hadn't asked that much. Professional pride probably). No one had love for the Micks. But it was bad fucking form. And Gene was livid. Despite denying involvement of his people.
Orsini turned to Peter. "You know, this kind of shit didn't happen in your father's days. Nino understood that business is business."
"Yeah. You know Chucky." Peter agreed. "He wasn't really made for it. But he did step up when there was no one else." he let it trail of.
****
"What's that deal with Schillinger?" Chucky asked, one arm thrown across Peter's shoulder, making him tense up despite himself.
"What? It's working out good. I had your back. Like I did while you were in the hospital."
"You think you can do my job?" There was clear intimidation in Chuck's voice and posture.
"I obviously can't." Peter returned deadpan. "I think we've all seen that."
Chucky looked at him with something like hostility. Like the words were what he wanted to hear but it still set him off.
"What you have to do to get that deal?" Pancamo then asked. "You're sucking his dick?"
Peter made himself laugh like Chucky had said it as a joke and not as the kind of insult that asked for blood. Ducked out from under Pancamo's arm and turned to him. "Goddamn, Chucky. You're funny." He patted his cheek. A gesture he'd seen his father do many a time. Something fatherly that nevertheless spoke of condescension more than anything.
****
"Cyril, old pal." Chris greeted him. "Gracing these halls with your presence once again."
Cyril pushed the food tray to Chris' cell. "Yeah, got a different shift. How's your trial coming?"
"Ah," Chris shrugged with one shoulder. "Toby says he'll get me off."
"I'm sure Toby's getting you off every chance he gets."
"Jesus!" Chris laughed. "You spent too much time in here with me looks like it."
"Shit. Definitely looks like it." Cyril laughed too.
"Yeah. Anyway. I'm not exactly holding my breath. Toby's doing what he can... But you know..." He shrugged again.
"Toby's got ways."
"Oh, I know he does." Chris said gravely.
"He's not going to let you die."
"He might not get a choice."
****
"I won't be doing this forever." Schillinger said.
"I think you will." Peter said smiling. "Even if you don't believe I could revoke your visitation rights. I could always have another breakdown. You know because of what you did to me. And they'd ship me right back to psych. And gosh, Hank might kill himself after all!"
"You wouldn't risk your rep like that."
Shit, Peter thought, was that sweat he saw there?
"I don't know. A lot rides on what we're doing here. If you fuck this up for me I might just decide I don't care any longer."
Schillinger gave him one look of helpless anger. "You're crazier than Beecher ever was."
"Who knows? But you got a chance to show you're not as dumb as he thought. So what's it gonna be?"
Schillinger's smile was deadly. "Let's be friends, Schibetta."
Ryan stepped out of the corner. "Shit. You're Nino's sons after all, aren't yah? You got none of his leadership skills, none of his strength of mind. But some of that cunning mind seems to have made it into that little whack-job head of yours after all. And you're better at surviving."
"I don't think you should be talking to me like that."
"I was paying you a compliment. That doesn't happen often. So savor it."
****
It was going too well. Peter had had fooled himself once before that things were under control. It was easy to make yourself believe that times were in your favor. When really, when had they ever been? He was so close, so close to actually achieving what he'd been striving towards without actually believing that he'd succeed. But he had had to believe that, hadn't he? How else would he have found the strength to move on. But...
"Can I even?" Peter asked, staring at the broom in his hand, the dirty kitchen floor. "Can I even, or am I just fooling myself?"
"Look at what you did so far." Cyril said. "You didn't need your family name for it."
Peter leaned over and kissed him. Sudden. Without preamble. He pushed Cyril over to the broom closet and inside, shoved him up against a shelf attacking his mouth once more.
It was over as soon and impulsive as it had started.
Peter stood there, brushing his hair out of his face, looking ill at ease. "Sorry."
"Can we just..." Cyril started.
"No. No. I'm sorry. This isn't going to happen again." Peter looked guilty now, panicked. And Cyril had had enough of that these past months to be able to stomach it now again.
So he just left it be. Didn't even try. Try for what after all? If there was one thing Ryan and Peter had in common, it was they made decisions and Cyril followed.
****
"You know," Schillinger said. "When I fucked your boyfriend." Cyril's fingers clenched on the railing. "You never wondered how I got the drop on him?"
That's all he said. All he really had to say. Because on some level, Cyril had known. People didn't get lucky in here. Unless Ryan made it so. Dino Ortolani knew that. Nino Schibetta did. Now Peter did know too. And Cyril, Cyril had known all his life.
****
"Don't you see I was protecting you?!" Ryan yelled.
"You were only protecting yourself." Cyril replied sadly. "And you wouldn't even have had to. I was already doing that. Oh God, Ryan, what is even your problem with him?!"
"You mean, besides the fact that he wants to kill me?"
"That's not just it. He stopped, for me. Why couldn't you? Why did you have to be so vicious? Why do you hate him so much?! Why do you hate him so much that you'd hurt me like this? I know you're not that afraid of him. He's never done anything to you. Only you to him."
"I don't hate him. I just..." Can't lose. Ryan finished in his mind.
"Remember when I beat up Miguel back then? How you felt? And I didn't do it out of spite but to help him."
All Ryan could say in that moment, all explanation he could give for what he'd done, was the truth. The ugly truth about everything in Ryan's life. About everything in this hell they were in. The simple rule of tit for tat. "Did you honestly believe I would let this slide?! Or that he would?!"
Cyril looked at Ryan shellshocked. "Wow. I won't help him kill you. But, Ryan, you are dead to me."
****
"Cyril!" Peter advanced slightly panic by Cyril's wild-eyed look. "What's wrong?"
"He did it." Cyril's voice was paper-thin, abstracted. "Oh God. I'm so sorry. He did it. And I can't kill him. I can't." Cyril seemed to unravel before his eyes.
"What are you talking about? Cyril?"
"Ryan." he laughed now, with tears in his eyes. "Ryan sold you out to Schillinger."
"Cyril," Peter carefully said, putting a hand on the other's arm. "I know that. I knew that almost from the beginning."
Cyril's eyes flew wide open. "Why didn't you?..."
Peter shrugged. "To control him."
"And... and now?"
Peter shrugged again. "For you."
Cyril just stared at him.
"I love you, Cyril. I love you. And I'm sorry for you, even if it's for the best. But we are over. This is no world in which we could happen."
****
"Oh God." Ryan looked ashen, drained. He buried his face in his hands. "Oh God.
Miguel didn't want to say 'it'll be okay', because in here it rarely was. "We'll figure something out." That was closer to the truth.
"How do I fix this?" Ryan asked, looking at Miguel with the hollowed-out, desperate hope of a child.
"I'm not sure you can." He'd never wanted to see him like this, even though, on some level he'd known the day would come. That Ryan's luck ran out, and all those loose ends ran together somewhere.
****
"Ryan, we need to talk."
"What's the matter, Toby?" Ryan asked him preoccupied. He'd just been wanting to talk to him himself, to tell him before he heard it from Cyril.
"I want out."
"What do you mean 'out'?" Ryan stared at him without understanding.
"I can't risk getting caught up in anything before my parole hearing comes up. Things are too fucking difficult right now. There's too much chance of something blowing up."
"What the fuck, Toby?!" There was anger in him now and rising panic.
"Don't you see it, Ryan? I could be paroled soon! I've kept myself clean so far and I intend for it to stay that way. I won't risk my chance to get out of here just to make some more money. And look at it that way, that's your chance to get back in."
Ryan schooled his expression even if Toby was the only one to see it. "Okay, suit yourself, Beecher. Why you're telling me, though? You should talk to my little brother, king shit. I'm no-fucking-body in here."
"Not to me."
"And still you're going to throw me away. Just like that." Ryan snapped his fingers.
"I'm not... It's not that easy. Tell me you wouldn't do the same thing as me, if you had the chance!"
"Leave you all in the lurch, hell no."
"Your acting like you'd suddenly be all on your own with me gone, Ryan. Goddammit, it's not like I'm taking Cyril with me."
"Nah, your just a goddamn traitor, that's what you are. You wouldn't even be alive without me."
"Neither would you without me." Toby returned sharply. "And just for the record. You would throw us all away without second thought and happily skip out the front door, given half the chance."
"Good that we have it out in the open now." Ryan returned scathingly. "Don't be a stranger." He turned around and walked away.
****
Ryan met Miguel in the hallway, kissing him, in broad daylight (or well, broad fluoroscent light). "Hey, I'm a dead man walking."
"What's the matter?" Miguel asked disturbed.
Ryan lifted his hands, like telling a joke. "Toby's out." Then nodded at Miguel's look of disbelief, grinning wildly. "Yes, you heard right."
A lot of people would be out now for Ryan. A lot of people. With Toby as the final protection layer gone. Miguel didn't think Cyril would actively hurt Ryan, but he sure wouldn't protect him. And Miguel himself was barely on good terms with the Latinos again, and they were hardly the highest currency in here. So, Miguel wasn't sure how much protection he really could provide. But there was always Ad Seg.
****
"Hey." Miguel stopped at his poddoor. "Can I come in?"
"Sure." Cyril waved him in.
"How bad is it?"
"What did he tell you?"
"Everything. I think. As much as Ryan ever tells you everything."
Cyril gave a hollow laugh. "True that."
"Are you–"
"I'm not going to kill him. But I told him that already and he knows I mean it."
"Don't you think you..."
"Miguel, I can tell you're trying to help. But I can tell by your face alone that you don't believe your own words. You don't think this is forgivable. And neither do I."
****
Cyril sat in his pod at night. And he thought about the past. He remembered. Silly stuff, meaningless stuff. Memories. Him and Ryan playing basketball at the decrepit basketball court outside the tenant building they'd lived growing up. He remembered how they'd gotten those tattoos, matching like everything about them always matched. As different as they were, they'd always fit together perfectly. Everything one of them couldn't do the other could. It had made them powerful, it had made them untouchable to the outside world. For there was no way to ever get between them, to ever play one against the other. For there was no envy, no hidden agendas, or ambition between them. Or there hadn't been. And Cyril wished it had stayed that way. Wished he'd have never had to to take over the lead. Wished he could have stayed in Ryan's shadow. For now he felt more alone than ever before in his life. He was here in his pod, with Peter who wasn't his anymore. And now he didn't have a brother any longer. And he knew not how to function without him. What was his life except looking out for Ryan? Not Peter to look out for either. Just a gang he didn't even care all that much for. He'd had this discussion with Peter so many times, about him always doing Ryan's bidding. But the truth was, he hadn't minded, hadn't minded all that much. If only Ryan was there. If only they were together. The world was theirs. For there hadn't been all that much need for a world at all. They had been the world. Had been since they'd been children. Since he'd been little and the first true memories he'd had were of Ryan. Looking up to him and feeling save. Going from the time where he'd been small and Ryan had been looking out for him, to the time when he'd grown and he'd be the one protecting him. But it was broken now. How could he ever forgive anything like that? Ryan had shown he didn't care for him at all. And that had hurt even more than the sense of failure and betrayal towards himself he felt for not being able to kill him for Peter. He felt weak and shaken. And completely unearthed. It hurt that he loved Ryan so much and Ryan had maybe never cared for him at all. And he was so alone. So goddamn alone. And he didn't know how he was supposed to get through the endless years to come, in here. How he was supposed to get through them. He'd been so angry at Ryan these past months. There'd always been one thing or another. Often he'd thought he didn't even want to look at Ryan anymore. But he hadn't truly known what that would feel like. All their squabbles felt so fucking meaningless now. He hadn't known what it would feel like to feel so entirely alienated from someone you loved so much. He hadn't known what it would feel like to have an emotion that had been defining him his whole life, ripped out of him within an instant. And all you felt was disgust and meaninglessness for everything around you. And you couldn't even truly be angry, because you just felt so terrible sad. And you just wanted it to have been a terrible nightmare. You just wanted to go back and erase it all. Go back to where it had still been okay. And you wanted that more than anything, more even than you wanted to hurt him for what he'd done.
"I »am« sorry." a voice from the bunk above him said. Legs dangled over the side, and soon a shape slid down in the darkness, to come to stand in front of him.
Cyril looked up, weary, hopeless. "You don't have to be sorry for me. He hurt you worse than he hurt me."
"I'm starting to doubt that." Peter quietly replied. He could have told Cyril how he'd warned him again and again. But what point would there have been, except to be cruel? And Cyril didn't deserve cruelty. And honestly, Peter had never expected Cyril to take any revenge on Ryan for him. If he'd have wanted to take revenge he'd have done it himself. But he'd made his peace with not killing Ryan a while ago now. And it had come easier than expected. Not because he could forgive Ryan for what he'd done to him. What he'd done to his father. But mostly what he'd done to him, by now. But because the decision wasn't so hard, when it meant so comparatively little to you and would mean so much to someone else. He would get gratification for a little while and Cyril would continue to hurt forever. And maybe a tiny, hopelessly foolish and naive part inside him... still wasn't willing to give up on Cyril forever. And doing something to Ryan would mean losing Cyril forever. Still. Always. It would never change. Peter had come to know Cyril well enough by now, to have understood that. To have understood the symbiotic relationship between the two brothers. And looking back he had to wonder, truly, how he'd ever managed to get between those two. It was kinda amazing in itself. That thing between Cyril and him. In a place like this. Between men like them at all. And he'd thrown it away. And would do so again. Because in Oz there were more important things than being happy.
He sat down beside Cyril. He thought about the past two-something months. All the terrible, terrible moments, that he'd somehow gotten through, without in hindsight really being able to say how.
He thought that he really didn't know anything to say to Cyril that would make it better. For himself he knew what he could do to make it better, even just a little. He could take his lead back. Kill Schillinger. But there was nothing Cyril could do to make anything better. Ryan was maybe the only one who could do anything to make it better. Even though Peter didn't know what that could possibly be.
So for now maybe the best he could do was be here with Cyril, when he hadn't really been any such thing, for a while now, despite them sharing a pod. He was selfish, maybe. Not all that much better than Ryan. But he needed to be. He was too tired, too exhausted, to look out for anyone but himself. He didn't have the strength.
"You're stronger than me and Ryan." Peter said.
"What?" Cyril actually looked at him now.
"That you protect others doesn't make you weak or needy or dependent. It makes you strong. Because no one in here actually has the strength for that. And now. Now you need to protect yourself."
"It feels wrong to talk to you about him." Cyril said tonelessly.
"Because I hate him?"
"Because I have no right to cry over him in front of you, when you have every right to want him dead."
"You're not crying."
"No." Cyril gave a weak laugh. "But I want to. I've been wanting nothing but to cry for three days now."
"Then cry." Peter said, his shoulder and leg touching Cyril's. "There's no one here to see and if anyone hears anything, they'll probably assume it's me." He gave a shallow laugh.
And Cyril leaned forward, arms on his legs, and cried. Silent tears running down his face. Shaking with exhaustion and never-ending tension alike. And Peter's body was there beside him. Just a faint connection there, but not leaving.
****
"Did you know?"
Toby looked up from his book. "What?"
"Toby, did you know?" Cyril repeated.
"What are you talking about, Cyril?"
Cyril let out a long breath. "At least not you."
"At least not what, Cyril?" Toby asked getting slightly on edge now.
"I gotta tell you something."
****
"Why didn't you tell me?" Toby asked. "I had to hear from Cyril."
"Are you really asking that?" Ryan smiled at him bitterly. "You washed your hands. Now why don't you look the other way? Or maybe you've come do judge me?" Ryan gave a broad, ugly smile.
Toby snorted. "I'm not going to judge you, you of all people should know that."
"Oh, I sure as fuck do." A derisive snort. "Good talk, Beecher. Scamper off then."
"Are you going to be okay?" Toby asked carefully. It was the coward's way out. Hoping Ryan would say yes. Because Toby wanted him to be. He didn't want to throw his life away now. And if Ryan told him he needed him now, he would have to.
But Ryan just smiled at him. "Aren't I always?"
And Toby accepted the lie. Because in here it was every man for himself.
Just once more he needed to try. Because Ryan had been the closest person to him in years. Closer than Chris even. He needed him to understand. Couldn't have this end like this.
"Ryan, I know you can't understand this right now. But... I have to think of my family."
"We're the only family you're ever going to have again."
It made him angry in an instant, even though it shouldn't have. Because it might just be true. A nagging fear in Toby's mind said it was. "Says the guy who fucked over his own brother so bad, he lost the only person who ever unconditionally loved him? And let's face it, it was unconditionally. Cause there was nothing you ever contributed to it. And he asked only one little thing. 'Don't try to have my boyfriend raped and murdered'. But I guess that was too much to ask from you. Just as it is too much to ask, for me to have a life outside here." He didn't even have to yell. Just spoke in a level voice full of the condescension he didn't feel for Ryan.
"It's not me you should be worried about here, Beech. You better look at your boyfriend for that. Or make that plural. Cause I'm pretty sure Schillinger isn't happy with you getting out either. I'm not interested in your ass, Beecher." he said callously, hip cocked against the wall. "You can do whatever the hell you want."
"Fuck you, Ryan."
****
"You were fine before every single one of us came along." Miguel started that night.
"Yeah, I know. It's harder now. Too used to someone having my back."
"I have your back."
"I'm not someone you should be around, right now. When everyone will come for their pound of flesh."
"You honestly think I care? That I'm afraid of that? I'm afraid of you dying."
"Right back at you, Alvarez. I can handle myself. We'll see how this turns out."
****
"Are you mad, Toby?" Chris asked him pleasantly when he came to visit him the next time. "I don't mean your regular crazy either."
"So you heard."
"Hard to miss. You don't even know if you will get paroled. That's not the time to burn bridges."
"Chris, I told Cyril, he understood. I'm telling you. I can't risk my chances for parole with meddling in business."
"Ok, yeah." Chris said with that fake smile of his. "What about Ryan? Did he understand too? Must be having a hell of a time right now." Another smirk, ugly, condescending."But seriously, babe. Are you really that dumb?" Anger now, exasperation. And to some point Toby realised, maybe even genuine worry. "This is nothing you can walk away from. You can't just back out, not at the point you are now. If you really think you can, well, then you're still the same dumb bitch who walked in here five years ago."
"What do you expect me to do then? Huh? Do you imagine me running drugs outside for Cyril and Ryan? I don't know what you remember of the world out there, but that's not how it works."
****
People talked. Of course they did. Toby hadn't expected anything else. What it meant for him though, he didn't know yet.
People didn't know how to treat him yet. He sure as fuck wasn't the first con to be paroled. But he was the first to just take a step back. After everything he'd done to get to this point. He couldn't quite believe it himself. But Sister Pete had been right. His life wasn't in here. No matter that it had been for the past five years. It felt longer. Five years were nothing. He could barely remember a life before Oz. Could only scoff at the friendships he'd had outside, when nothing came close to literally trusting someone with your life. And yeah, now he was going to walk away from it. Back to shallow country club friendships. If they ever let him into one of those again.
****
He'd smiled at the committee and said all the right things. He'd been penitent, when in his heart he did regret nothing but the crime that had brought him here. And they had nothing. Nothing but the vague notion that he might be running drugs in there. Nothing concrete. McManus had backed him up, Glynn had voiced concerns he had no proof for. There was nothing in his file. Nothing at all. And the committee, looking at him, realised themselves how ludicrous it was. Him with his baby face, clean-shaven for once, nice expensive shirt, spectacles. That he'd been raped in here, that they could believe. That he was one of the most feared men in here, that they could not believe. It went against all their pretty compartmentalized beliefs. Oh, Glynn read the list of all the deaths he believed to be connected to him. And he could see that it was politeness more than anything, that the commitee heard him out.
Afterwards Catherine looked at him. Pretty, smart Catherine. His lawyer, Chris' too. She was sweet on him. And he'd played with that, to get her to defend Chris. And now she looked at him differently. She'd been so focused on finding out what kind of person Chris was, she'd overlooked Toby completely. Had seen only what she wanted to see. Because her world was as compartmentalized as that of the committee, as Toby's world had been before he went in here. And he thought, he'd conned her like Chris had conned him. But they'd both brought it onto themselves. He'd known Chris was a con, she'd known the same about him. Why they always expected more than there was?
"Did you do it, Toby?" Catherine asked.
"Of course not, Catherine." Toby smiled at her.
"You know," she said. "I always thought I could tell when people are lying. Congratulations, with you I couldn't. You're exactly as bad as everyone told me you were."
****
"Chris, I'm getting paroled. I just got the news."
"Good for you." Chris seemed pretty uninterested.
"Aren't you happy for me?"
"Sure. Have a good life."
"That changes nothing about us, Chris. Outside I can work even better on getting you off deathrow."
"Let's not kid ourselves. You're going to forget about me as soon as you step through those doors. Hell, maybe you'll even go back to fucking women."
"I'm not leaving you behind Chris."
"Fuck you, Toby."
****
And then things just went faster than expected. Even before Toby'd even gotten parole, suddenly Chris was back in Em City. He'd won. And Chris, Chris was barely even talking to him any longer.
Catherine delivered the news like a last 'fuck you', ridding herself of the both of them.
"Don't bother calling me, when you get out, Toby." she said. "And don't kid yourself, either. He'll end up back there."
"Thank you, Catherine. For everything."
"You're good." She laughed harshly. "You're damn good, I give you that. Have a good life. If you're even capable of that any longer."
****
"Hey, O'Reily." Chris sautered over. "I heard you're on your last leg."
"You heard right, K-boy. I'm alone. I'm fucking alone." Ryan stared into the distance.
Chris stood beside him. "You still got your boyfriend." A certain bitterness hung in his otherwise easy-going tone. Toby was still there, for now. In body more than anything. Like the fucking ghost of the boyfriend-soon-past.
"I love Miguel, but he isn't Toby and he isn't Cyril either."
"Because he's not as smart as Toby and won't go along with every stupid idea of yours like Cyril? Sounds sensible to me."
"Just think about you and Beecher. He loved you, but he never could quite trust you again. Same with me and Miguel. He's a nutjob. He cares too much. Like Beecher. But he can't compartmentalize it as well. At some point I'll have to look out for him again."
"And he won't just go along with every crazy plan of yours." Chris reiterated.
"Yeah, and that."
"I'm up for crazy plans. If you're looking."
"Damn, Keller, I thought you'd never ask. What're you down for?"
"You know me, I'm down for anything."
"Sometimes I think you must be really fun in the sack."
"You got no idea."
****
"Why can't you be happy for me?!" Toby asked exasperated and frankly hurt.
"You honestly expect me to be happy that you'll leave and I'll never see you again?" Chris replied with a scoff.
"I told you. I'm going to visit."
"Yeah," Chris smirked acidly. "And I totally believe you. Because it makes absolute sense, that you'd come to visit your homicidal ex-boyfriend in max-sec once you're back in your old, priviledged life."
"You know that things aren't as they used to be."
"Ah, now finally you're admitting it to yourself. Don't fool yourself, Tobe. You're not who you used to be and you can never become that person again. So, have fun trying to fit back into your little picked-fence world."
Toby looked at Chris, sad and disillusioned, and with not a little dredge of fear that Chris was right. Then he resolved to deal with the world as it was and not as he wanted it to be, as he'd done the past five years. "Alright, then, Chris." he said, face a callous mask. "So we both know what to expect from the other. Doesn't mean we can't fuck for as long as it lasts." A shrug at the end of it, like he couldn't care less either way. Oh, he'd learned so well, from all of them, good and bad example alike, but most of all from Chris himself. And maybe, he really just wanted to fuck him one last time.
****
Santino Vincini didn't know what to think any longer. A lot had gone wrong the last months. Since Chucky's return. And now after a complete blowup, Peter had hooked them up with another pipeline. He did a good job, Peter. Son of the old boss, who'd Sonny never met. Neither had he met Peter before. Before... before the thing no wanted to put into words. Sonny'd come in back then with Antonio Nappa. Since then it'd been steadily going down. And he could tell that Chucky didn't have the stuff to lead. Neither had Peter, but he was Nino's son. And he was fixing Chucky's problems lately.
****
"I say someone's going to whack the bitch."
"Nah," Poet said. "He can be the new crazy guy, now that Beecher's leaving."
"Are you worried?" Busmalis asked.
"Why, we looked out for ourselves before." Rebadow shrugged. "Only, we'll need a new man for playing cards."
"Shit's about to go crazy, that's for sure." Augustus said. "Never thought I'd see the day of Beecher and O'Reily both being out of comission. With only Cyril the Irish will fade back into obscurity. The Latinos already have. And the Wiseguys, God knows what they're up to."
"I bet my money on Peter." Rebadow said smiling.
"Jesus, old man. Schibetta isn't even in the equation."
"Ah, no, he is." Rebadow smiled to himself.
****
"What?" Ryan looked at Schillinger and his men in disbelief. "I didn't expect it to be you."
"Well, you're too dangerous." Schillinger shrugged apologetically. "I'll take this opportunity."
"Shit, man. You're going to fuck me too?" Ryan joked.
"You'd be surprised how much I'd actually like to do that. But, no, you're too dangerous for that too. And actually I respect you too much for that. This isn't personal, O'Reily. You had a good run, we did good business together. But I'm tired of watching my back. You're just a little too smart and too ruthless, for me to ever feel comfortable with you around."
"You told Cyril." Ryan said with sudden epithany.
Schillinger shrugged, with the smile of a kid caught stealing apples. "Yeah."
"You fucking bastard." Ryan wheezed out. "So much for your word."
"Well, you won't tell anyone, I'm sure."
"You know, the only thing I regret is that I won't see you getting killed by Schibetta."
"Schibetta?" Schillinger raised an eyebrow in polite doubt. "You sure about that?"
"Yeah, kid is on the up. I'd watch out. You have a bad track record with your bitches." Then Ryan laughed and spread his arms. "Go for it, you fuckers."
The door opened. Irish filtering in, among them Cyril.
"Back off, Schillinger."
"Come on, Cyril." Schillinger said, genuinely miffed now. "Is this personal? Because of you-know-who and our little game of hiding the sausage."
"Why would this be because of Adam?" Cyril replied, completely straight-faced.
"Now don't play dumb, or I'll have to spill the beans."
"Spill ahead, Vern. I'd be interested to hear what you have to say. But try to make it believable."
"Really? Not even that works? Are you sure? Our mutual friend wouldn't appreciate your stance on confidentiality."
"We don't have mutual friends, Vern."
"Okay, let's be friends here." Schillinger changed his angle. "I'm doing you a favor. You want him gone and you don't even have to do it yourself."
"Do you honestly believe I wouldn't be able to kill my own brother if I wanted to?" Cyril asked disdainfully. "Do you honestly think I'd let anyone else do that?"
Schillinger let out a sigh. "You are a fucking party crasher, O'Reily. But okay, I respect that. We white people have to stick together. Against the mooks, niggers and spaghettis."
"Whatever, Vern. Have a nice day."
Cyril and the Irish stood unmoving until the Aryans had filed out again.
Ryan looked at Cyril. "I thought I was dead to you."
"You are. But just to me."
****
Pancamo approached Ryan. "It's come to my attention that you want to get rid of Petey. And I agree. He's family, but he's also a shame and lately he's been more trouble than he's worth."
"You mean because he's actually managed to become a threat to you, Chucky?" Ryan laughed.
"It's your problem too, O'Reily." Pancamo said a lot less friendly. "If Petey takes over there will be war between the Irish and the Italians. Or maybe not. Cyril and you don't seem too friendly lately. Maybe he'll stand back and let Peter finish what he never had the guts to do. I guess you can only hope Beecher is going to protect you. Oh no, right, he stepped back, didn't he? You better believe it O'Reily, if I'm gone you'll be next. If Peter gets his lead back all scores will be settled. Well, maybe Adebisi will make it. Maybe we can both convert too. Because trust me, it's only a matter of time. Half the men are already convinced that Peter would be doing a better job than me. And there are enough that believe that he has more right to it than I do."
"So what's the plan?"
"We take him out nice and clean, as befitting Nino's son."
Ryan laughed. "You don't want nice and clean. You want him to suffer."
"That's right." Pancamo grinned grimly. "I'm pretty pissed off with him. I want him to look me in the eyes in his last moments and piss himself in fear."
****
He could tell Cyril. But Cyril wouldn't be able to intervene without anyone wanting to know why. He could, even the thought made him laugh, tell Schibetta. But chances were he wouldn't believe him. And the point was he had to do this himself. Not just be the messenger boy. For this to carry any real weight he had to pull Peter right out of the fire himself. Now the problem was... he didn't really have anyone he could trust any longer. Not even anyone he could order around any longer. And he certainly couldn't go up against Pancamo and his men on his own. There was only a select circle of people he could turn to, who would be willing and able to help here and now.
"And that is basically the gist of it."
"You really think that's a good idea?" Miguel asked. "Maybe you should just tell Cyril. He can tell Schibetta and he can do with this information what he likes."
"Are you helping me or not?"
Miguel rolled his eyes. "Of course I'm helping you."
"K-boy, hold your horses, something just came up on short notice. I think you'll like it."
"Shit man, now you're getting me all excited."
"I know you've been itching for a fight. Would you be up to killing Chucky Pancamo with me?"
"Well, Ryan, looks like you just made my day."
There was another person he could ask. Someone he hadn't had to do with in a long time. Ryan made his way over to the Muslims. It was a shot in the dark, but he had a feeling.
"Adebisi," he asked. "You wanna do something for Peter Schibetta?"
The answer was instantaneous. "Yes."
Ironic that they would come together again after all these years, to save the son after they'd killed the father.
****
"Chucky, what's up?"
"Hey, Petey. Time to say goodbye." Pancamo greeted him.
Peter understood the situation immediately, as Pancamo and the other two of his so-called family steadily but unhurriedly advanced on him.
"Scream if you want," Pancamo said. "By mere coincidence there are no hacks around right now."
"Really, Chucky?" Peter asked, much more calmer than he'd expected. "That's how you want it to end? I wouldn't have killed you. But I guess you never really understood the concept of loyality."
"Fuck you, Peter! It's not my fault you got your ass raped by Adebisi! No matter how much you try to put it that way! Nor is it my fault that you completely lost your shit afterwards! I'm sick and tired of you shoving that shit off on me! I'm sick and tired of you in general!"
"Well, then, get it on with, you son of a bitch." Peter replied, feeling more tired than anything, but reaching for his shank nevertheless.
A voice from the door sounded. "Sorry, Chucky. Change of plans," Ryan said. "You die."
Pancamo had only brought two other guys. Understandable. There were probably not so many who where down with murdering Nino's son.
Ryan watched as Adebisi savagely beat down Pancamo, while Chris and Miguel dispatched the two Wiseguys, and wondered how much Adebisi had really changed deep down.
Adebisi heaved Pancamo back to his feet.
Ryan offered the shank to Peter. "You wanna? Be my guest."
Peter slit Pancamo's throat, while Adebisi held him in place. He felt calm as he did. Not much hesitation there. Chucky didn't beg, in his favor. It wasn't that hard to run the blade across his throat, through flesh, muscle and cartilage. Quick too. And over. Like the snap of a finger. A gurgling sound, a few more jerks of a dying body. No longer Pancamo, already, just dying flesh. Everything had been said.
Adebisi let Pancamo's body slip to the floor. He and Peter stood facing each other. Peter wiped his prints of the shank and let it drop onto the dead body in front of him. Then he and Adebisi just looked at each other for a long time. Ryan watched as they just looked at each other. Adebisi's expression very solemn, Peter's searching, scrutinizing. Then the two of them seemed to come to an understanding. And they both started to move away from the corpse.
"Why did you do that?" Peter asked.
"Because I want my brother back."
"You think it's going to be that easy?"
"He loves me."
"He loves me." Peter said.
"For now."
"Does Cyril ever do anything by half measures?"
"True. He'll come back to me. He needs someone. And you threw him away."
"I think you have a pretty wrong view of him. Even if I have to wonder how that's even possible."
****
"Ryan saved me," Peter told him in the kitchen. "Fucking Ryan and Adebisi saved me." Peter shook his head laughing. "Tit for tat. Jesus, I'm almost impressed."
"Yeah. He usually gets that reaction." Cyril was still processing the fact that Peter had nearly died again. And once more he'd been unable to protect him.
"It's okay that you still love him. He's your brother. Some things are out of our control."
"What?" His head jerked up. "What is this? You giving me permission to forgive him?"
"Maybe. If you think you need it. You shouldn't. Forgive him. He's dangerous and he needs you more than ever."
"But?"
"You're miserable."
"I'm miserable because of you."
"Yeah. In part."
"I'm not so stupid to fall for him again."
"Good. Repeat that to yourself every morning."
Cyril snorted. "Already am."
****
"I saved your boyfriend, are we cool again?" Ryan asked exasperated.
"We're so far away from cool, Ryan," Cyril started. "I don't trust you. But I can't let you get hurt either. So I guess it is what it is."
****
The room was still the same. The gangs had stayed the same. Only the people had changed. Changed a lot. Cyril O'Reily. Chico Guerra. Burr Redding. Peter Schibetta.
Meanwhile Jefferson Keane and Simon Adebisi were praying with the other Muslim's in the rec room.
Tobias Beecher was reading in his pod.
Miguel Alvarez and Ryan O'Reily were sitting downstairs playing cards. While the latter's eyes wandered up to the glass-fronted room upstairs again and again.
Enrique Morales was serving consecutive life sentences in a federal prison.
While Chucky Pancamo, Antonio Nappa, Kenny Wangler, El Cid and Nino Schibetta were all in an early grave.
Chucky dead by Peter's hand, but fundamentally also by Ryan's doing.
Nino dead by Adebisi and Ryan's doing.
Kenny and El Cid by Toby's and Ryan's design.
Antonio Nappa by Toby's hand. Actually the only one Ryan had had nothing to do with.
****
It was funny, after they'd denied him this for so long, how little of a fight they'd put up now. How no one had even challenged him. Like, with Chucky gone the lead would go back to him by default.
There was of course still the matter of Chucky's death. Peter could hardly tell them what had happened. How should he explain the presence of his four little helpers (not that Ryan had actually done much)? But he'd find someone to frame for this. Maybe Schillinger. Once he didn't need him any longer.
****
All this shit going down between him and Cyril O'Reily and he'd almost forgotten that Beecher was getting paroled. When that should have been the foremost thing on his mind. Preventing his former prag from leaving here alive. But these days, ever since Beecher had handed Adam over to him, he felt a certain connection to Beecher (Even though he'd pulled back on that later, but Schillinger had figured out why that was). Knew that even if he did get out, he had affected him in a way that wouldn't let go of him for the rest of his life. The Beecher that had been created from the ashes Schillinger had left. He felt almost a little bit proud, even a grudging respect.
And after all Beecher hadn't killed his sons. He on the other hand, the death of that little boy would stay with him for the rest of his days. He'd seen Hank the other day. What was left of him. Put things into perspective. It wasn't the drugs that were killing Hank. It was his doing. And it wasn't his doing that Andy was off the drugs. It was Beecher's doing.
Maybe he should just let Beecher go. Maybe for once in his life he could do the right thing and let this be over, for both of them.
****
"You're not even going to say goodbye to him?" Miguel asked, coming back from having said his own farewells to Toby just now.
"No thanks. I can do without someone who thinks he's too good for us the second he can get out of here."
"Ryan..." Miguel looked uncomfortable.
"No! Fuck him! I don't need him! He needed me!"
****
"Chris, please!" Toby's voice was desperate. Chris didn't even look in his direction.
"Just go."
Toby just stood there frozen his hand wavering in the air.
"Time to leave, Beecher." D'Agnasti was getting impatient.
Toby grabbed the box with his stuff tighter and left.
****
And then he was out. Suit. Tie. A car waiting for him. His rolex back on his arm. No one had been able to stop him. No Schillinger. No last minute incidents. He was just out. Just like that. A free man again.
Meanwhile Peter made his way to his pod, knowing it would be the first good night's rest he'd had in weeks.
As he walked along the rails to his pod, getting nods and greetings from his people it almost felt like the first time he'd arrived here. Only back then his bravado had been show. And this time whatever weakness people still saw in him was a mistake they'd realise soon enough.