Hi everyone. I got another Oz bunny and just had to write it so here you go :) I'll post the second part next week. This is another dark fic and there's warnings for violence, non con, dub con & swearing.

Enjoy and please R & R!!!! I didn't get any reviews to my last Oz fic so I really dont know if anyone liked it so some comments on this one, good or bad, would be appreciated!

Complete Again

Part 1 of 2

How did I get here?

That was the same question Tobias Beecher had been repeatedly asking himself for the last twenty minutes. And he wasn't getting anywhere with an answer. This had been his own stupid fault, no one to blame but himself. And now, he was paying the price.

He glanced to his right and his stomach lurched once more as he regarded the snoring figure beside him, a possessive arm slung over his midsection, holding him obediently in place. This man who he now shared a bed with. The same man he had just spent the night with.

And now he was sickened.

It had been his own idea. He had gone to the bar for only one purpose. To find someone. Anyone would have done. That was how far he had sunk, what he had turned into. He had craved a loving touch, a kind word. And, to his disgust, he had been willing to pay for what he had wanted.

He covered his face with his hands and let out a long sigh. The man beside him groaned, interrupting the incessant snoring for a moment and Beecher flinched. He didn't want his companion to awaken, he liked him asleep, appreciated the time he now had to think. And he was also concerned that should the man wake up, he may want a second round and Toby couldn't face that. Once was certainly enough; no, it was more than enough.

Of course, none of this was – wait, what was his name? Toby screwed up his forehead, trying to remember. John? Jim? No, Jacob. That was it. None of this could be blamed on Jacob. Toby had gone to that bar the night before on his own accord, for his own selfish reasons. He wanted to feel somebody's love once again. He had wanted someone to hold him. Hold him and feel for him and care for him like... Toby swallowed hard. What was the point in dredging up the past? Could the past comfort him now? No. It was the contrary. The past only tormented him.

It had been three years, three long, lonely years, since Tobias Beecher had finally been released from prison. In that time, he had lived each day the same, moving from job to job, avoiding forming any relationship whatsoever when possible. He didn't like being around people, people always wanted to know so much. And Toby had known to keep his mouth shut. He'd learned a very hard way that you couldn't trust anybody, not until they had truly proved themselves and he no longer wanted to give anyone the chance to do that. He wanted to be left alone. He had no goals, no targets, no nothing. His life was meaningless now, and that's how he liked it. He had been amused when he had realized the truth. His life had meant more when he had been within Oz's walls. Inside, he had had friends who cared about him. Even thwarting the plans his many enemies, had given him reason to keep going. He had fought for the chance to stay alive, so that he could actually achieve his freedom. And he had earned it. He was free.

And now, what had he discovered? That his life had more purpose when he had been stuck inside that damned place.

People had loved him there. And hated him. But did they even really matter? Love or hate, at least he had mattered. People in Oz had cared for him, had helped him.

Chris had even loved him.

He swore soundlessly, rubbing his hand through his hair in annoyance, trying to clear his head. He knew better than that. He was very aware how his damned heart would hurt him at the mere thought of Chris and he tried to push him back out of his mind. Thinking of Oz gave Beecher added strength usually, reminding him of a time when he had had something to live for, to strive for. But not when he thought of his former lover. No, all Keller brought him now was pain and anger. And that was because Beecher missed him more ever single moment of his sad and deprived life that went by.

Who told you, you could die, you bastard? Who said you could leave me?

"Damn it." Beecher snapped quietly and then quickly glanced at the man sleeping beside him. He didn't stir, and Toby breathed a sigh of relief.

Toby was frightened of this man and he hated himself for it. Why should he still be afraid of thugs like this? He had faced so much worse in Oz and he had beaten them. So why could one jerk have this effect on him? Chris would have found him pathetic.

No. Not now Keller. I don't want you here.

But Keller was always with him. Ever since he had died that same day, Toby could sense Chris near by, watching him. He had felt Keller's presence beside him the day his mother had announced to him that the family would move away, taking Toby's remaining children with them. He had been allowed to see Holly only once or twice since then and now, seeing that she was old enough to make her own choices, his daughter now wanted nothing to do with him, believing he had abandoned her. He knew she blamed him for the mess her life had become. She did not remember the mother, brother or grandfather that had all been so cruelly taken from her and she had had no stability, always having to move on for her own safety. Even once Beecher had been released from jail, his family still were not safe.

Someone somewhere always wanted to hurt him or his loved ones and it had been Holly who had paid the higher price. She was too young to fully understand why she went from school to school, making friends then promptly having to leave them. Her sadness and hatred were aimed squarely at her Daddy, for she knew he was the reason why her life "sucked" for her. Now, she would not contact him, even refusing to speak to him on the phone. Emails were never returned, any attempts he made to contact her, or her younger brother, were met with hostility and closed doors. Beecher had finally accepted the horrible truth. He had dreamed so much about his second chance at parole. He had fought hard for it, and had decided nothing would ruin this unexpected chance to get it right that time. And now, he knew all that effort and fighting had been for nothing.

He was alone. And he was wasting one day after another. He could almost smile at the irony. He had lived each day in Oz as if it was his last and now, here he was living his real life, free to do whatever he wanted and he now felt like he was dying slowly, ebbing away until there was nothing left of Tobias Beecher. He had been living in Boston for six months, stuck in a dead end job in a small store. No friends or lovers. It had been a long time sincehe had even felt any hope. All he had were the memories that would not leave him be. He couldn't escape them, nor those whispers that he could hear everywhere he went, or the sense that strangers were staring at him. And the shadows. The shadows were always watching him. He could feel them as they reached out to touch him. The men he had killed were there, in that darkness, waiting for him. They were with him always and he actually didn't mind. He deserved that torment, that torture. He deserved to suffer. He'd taken lives and there was no excuse for that.

He should have reached out, grabbed him somehow. He should have stopped him falling.

Jacob grunted loudly and turned back toward Toby, his face now a hairs length away. Toby swallowed down his disgust and rolled over carefully, turning his back on the other man. He didn't want to look at him. The man was a constant reminder of what Toby had turned into and it wasn't something Beecher was ready to face.

And, if he was honest, Jacob reminded Beecher of more than just the downward spiral of his life. He reminded him of a time long ago. A time in Oz before even Keller had appeared. The time when his very being had been ruled by Vern Schillinger, a Nazi who had targeted Beecher, making him his prag. It had been ages since anyone had used Toby for sex without his consent. Toby had become stronger thanks to his treatment by Schillinger, and never again in Oz was he raped or abused. Sex though, that had become something different, no longer a threat of pain and hate for him. Not once Toby had discovered just how loving sex with a man could be.

And who had taught Toby this lesson? It was the same man who had of course haunted Toby, day and night, more than any other. Even more so than that bastard Nazi. One man never left him and Toby pined for that one man more than anything. The man he would have accepted the death sentence for, due to the part he had played in his death. Chris had thrown himself off of that balcony, true enough, but Toby had pushed him to it. He may as well have killed him. Chris had died thinking Beecher didn't love him anymore. That wasn't true. Beecher loved Keller more than life itself. And he had wanted to join him, where ever he had ended up, be it Heaven or Hell. Only the aid and friendship of Sister Pete and Father Ray had convinced Beecher to fight the death sentence hanging over his head. And fight he did and Keller's death was ruled an accident, just like Vern Schillinger's. And Toby was cleared. And finally, after a pain-painstakingly long clean up job following Chris Keller's parting gift to him, Beecher returned to Oz with all the other remaining prisoners. It had felt like going home, back to the ghosts that had waited there for him. The ghosts that would never leave him.

And last night, those ghosts had been with him, louder than ever before, their whispers noisy and cruel. They had taunted him, dared him. And he had heard enough. He needed them to go, he wanted some peace. For the first time for ages, he needed comfort from another man. Friendless, alone and desperate, he had no one to turn to so Beecher had walked into the gay bar, looking for a one night stand. He didn't want love, he no longer felt capable of it, and he knew no one could possibly love him, so sex was all he needed. He hoped he was still desirable enough. He had spotted a man sitting by himself at the bar, and had nervously gone up to him and started a conversation. Younger and bigger than Toby, the man was nothing special, largely over-weight and bald, with tiny, piggy eyes. Toby coming onto him must have been quite a surprise. And Toby was charming when he still wanted to be, that Lawyer in him resurfacing once more, the only pre-Oz part of him that had survived. He had been so charming, so flirty and sexy, he had his chosen conquest, Jacob, eating out of his hand after five minutes of pointless conversation.

Beecher had told him some bits of his past and Jacob had obviously been fascinated by him. Toby had then coyly suggested that they go find a hotel and Jacob had hesitated, remarking he had been waiting for someone else, an important date and he was loath to leave. So Toby had offered the larger man all he had left to give. Himself. For one whole night. Whatever he wanted, Toby would do. His personal property just for one night. And Jacob had stared at Toby, sizing him up. He had then smiled a cold, cruel smile and had agreed, offering Toby a large wad of money in exchange. And that smile had made Toby's blood run cold, but it was already to late. The deal had been made. For the rest of that night, he now belonged to Jacob. Body and soul.

And that was how Beecher had found himself in this sleazy hotel room. They had taken a taxi to the hotel and had booked a cheap room. It was small, damp and cold. Beecher had hated it, that nervous feeling deep in his gut growing with every unpleasant second that passed. And he should have listened to his instincts. For as soon as they had entered the room, Jacob had leaped on Toby, pinning him up against a wall roughly, stripping him, groping him. Beecher had soon found himself naked and frozen with cold and fear, and then Jacob had thrown the small man carelessly across the tiny room, not bothered by the grunts of pain Beecher omitted. Toby had then been dumped unceremoniously onto the bed, with Jacob on top of him, a jar of lube in one hand.

Beecher had cringed inwardly, even trembling slightly, as the larger man had massaged his buttocks with his free hand. He had heard Jacob chuckling nastily and he hadn't needed to ask why.

The Swastika 　

"You didn't tell me you were a member of the brotherhood in prison." Jacob had asked, softly. "Good for you."

"I wasn't," Beecher had replied, coldly. "That was done to me."

Jacob had snorted. "You were a bitch on the inside too then, I see?" He had grabbed a fistful of Toby's hair, clearly not in the least bit concerned as to whether he was hurting the smaller man or not. In fact, Beecher had felt that Jacob had been turned on by the chance to be rough with him. "So, Tobias;" Jacob had snarled, "Did prison make you a bitch or were you born one?"

Toby had whimpered. Memories had again resurfaced, threatening to break him.

Chris.

And Jacob had laughed at Toby's torment, reveling in the obvious agony he was causing.

"Just fucking with you, man." He had smirked and had then stuck a lubed finger inside of Beecher, preparing him and Toby had let out a stifled cry.

Oh God. Chris. I'm sorry. Please, help me.

Toby had closed his eyes tightly, tried to imagine himself somewhere else, somewhere nice and happy, and peaceful. But that didn't work, his prayers remained unanswered, no one was coming to help him. He had then felt pure agony as Jacob had thrust into him, not even attempting to give Beecher any pleasure. Toby had laid there, taking it without any struggle or complaint, thinking back to a time when he had felt safe and loved in another man's arms. A time when Chris Keller had been with him. A time long since dead. As he thought of Chris once again, Toby could not prevent the tears finally spilling.

Finally, when Jacob was done, he had rolled off of Beecher, not bothering to even check on the smaller man. He had flopped down on the bed, exhausted. and switched on the television with a remote, ignoring Toby's quiet gasps of discomfort as he had attempted to move beside him. Toby tried to make conversation, vainly hoping that he may be permitted to leave, seeing how Jacob had had his way with him. He needn't had bothered for all the good it did him, as his pathetic efforts were completely ignored. Finally, Jacob had yawned, turned off the TV, throwing the remote back onto the table where he had found it. With one smirk at Toby, Jacob had turned over and closed his eyes.

"By the way," he had muttered, just as Toby was beginning to wonder if the man was asleep. "Just so you know, I'm not done. You should probably get some sleep as when I wake, I'll be ready to go again."

Beecher, his heart sinking, had tried to reply.

"Please, I think I should be going..."

Jacob had turned on him, sworn loudly and grabbed Toby's forearm in a bruising grip, He had raised his large fist and Toby had recoiled away, his words coming to an abrupt end.

"Tobias," Jacob had slurred and Beecher had cringed, more memories of being under another man's control flooding back to him. "Shut your mouth and get to fucking bed, okay man?"

Any fight that had once been within Beecher had died long before that day. He had, head down, obeyed Jacob sheepishly, laying his aching body down beside his new "friend;" naked as the day he was born and shivering from the cold November chill. Jacob had curled up on his side, facing his new toy. He had also draped an arm over Toby, ensuring Beecher stayed exactly where he wanted him. Within moments, Jacob was fast asleep and snoring like an animal.

At least he had left Beecher in peace, albeit temporarily.

And now, as Toby lay there, thinking long and hard, one sentence revolved around his brain, and Toby could ignore it no longer.

What am I still doing here?

Instantly, he made up his mind. Did he really want to stay there, to have that asshole crawling over him again, using him? No, he definitely didn't. He wanted out. Very carefully, breathlessly, he moved Jacob's arm off of him and rolled off of the bed, landing with a bump on his knees. He frowned, watching the other man closely but there was no reaction. He was still fast asleep.

Beecher then moved around, retrieving his clothes, which Jacob had carelessly tossed around the room. He found his boxers hanging from a light, his shirt over by the bathroom door, his trousers dumped by the bed. Quietly as he was able, he collected all of his belongings and quickly dressed, not taking his eyes off of Jacob. He was aware his shirt buttons were not correctly done up, and his socks were on the wrong feet, but he didn't care. He swallowed, hesitating, when he saw his jacket was very close to Jacob, on the bed. He would have to fetch it, his flat keys and wallet were inside it. His heart in his mouth, Toby tip-toed to the bed and saw his jacket in a heap by Jacob's head. He leaned across the man and picked up his jacket, holding his breath. Jacob didn't move.

Relieved, Toby slipped his jacket on, and was pleased to find his keys and wallet were exactly where he had left them. At least the jerk wasn't a thief as well as a bully. With a heavy sigh, Beecher turned his back on Jacob and moved, quickly but quietly, toward the hotel room door.

It was nearly over. And he had survived. He would not be so reckless again.

He reached for the door handle and was about to exit the room, when suddenly he was grabbed round the middle and held tightly, being pulled backwards by two strong arms. An angry voice hissed in his ear.

"Where the fuck are you going?"

Jacob spun Beecher around, and Toby was thrown towards the bed. He fell against it hard, just managing to stay on his feet. Jacob was a lot stronger than him, and now, he was pissed off. And Toby was scared.

"I asked you a question, you little shit." Jacob snarled. "Where were you going?"

Toby glared. Who was this guy calling a shit? Something stirred deep within Beecher. He didn't like being called names.

"I was leaving." He snapped in response. "I thought we were done."

Jacob raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? And didn't I tell you I wasn't finished with you?" He took a step forward. "Didn't I?"

Toby shook his head. "Look, you got what you wanted. Lets leave it there. I'll be missed at home, my family..."

"You told me last night that you don't have anybody." Jacob interjected. He narrowed his eyes. "No one to miss you."

Toby paled. He balled his fists and drew himself up to his full height. "Are you threatening me?" He whispered, his blue eyes flashing.

Jacob shrugged. "We made a deal." He said simply. "I don't want you crapping out on me. All night is what we agreed. You'd do whatever I asked. Remember that?"

Beecher glanced down. "Yes," he answered. When he looked back up, Jacob was thrown by the sudden crazed look in those striking eyes. "But I've changed my mind. Let me go."

Jacob sprang into life, cutting the distance between him and Beecher in one stride, and grabbing the protesting Beecher's shirt. "I paid you, you fucker!" He growled. "You'll see this thing though or I'll fucking kill you!"

If that statement was meant to terrify Toby, Jacob was disappointed. For instead, Toby began to laugh. Loudly.

"Go ahead!" Toby said, with a wide smile. "Do it." He tilted his head to the side when Jacob didn't comply at once. "Or, you can have your money back and we can both leave here, right now. I stay alive and you don't end up in the hell hole I did." He outstretched his arms. "Fair trade?"

Jacob seemed to consider the offer. Toby waited, watching him.

Finally, Jacob smirked.

"No." He snapped and then struck Toby hard across the face, catching him unawares, and Toby fell back against the bed. Jacob smiled, knowing he now had the upper hand, and he pinned Toby against the bed with his body.

Beecher, though, was no longer the pushover he had been an hour earlier. He fought beneath Jacob for all he was worth, hitting and scratching the other man, even biting him. Finally, Jacob kneed Toby in the groin, once more taking control. He then grabbed the still gasping Toby by the hair, held him in place and then proceeded to beat him repeatedly until Beecher finally stopped struggling and just laid still, dazed, in a pool of his own blood.

Jacob relented at last. He laughed coldly, excited by the violence, and the expectancy of what was to come. He had the power of life and death over this little fucker, and he was loving it. A tough, arrogant scum who had once been a lawyer, with the world at his feet. He had survived Oz, one of the toughest facilities in the country and now, here he was, powerless beneath Jacob Bewlees. It felt incredible.

"You aren't the only one who learned some tricks inside, Toby;" Jacob purred, as he turned Beecher onto his front. "So did I. I'm an Aryan too. Got out of Lardner 6 months ago. Guess you took no notice of my tattoos." He held up his arm, and now Toby saw it, the Nazi symbol was there, big and proud. How could he have missed that? How could he have been so stupid? Jacob was continuing with his triumphant taunting. "And, Toby, it so happens, that I'd heard your name whispered around. All the brotherhood spoke of Tobias Beecher. You and your ongoing war with Vern Schillinger."

Toby grimaced at the sound of the name. Now, it made sense. Why the guy was so interested in him, and why he had reacted gleefully to the sight of Beecher's tattoo. He was one of them. And Beecher had offered himself to the bastard gladly.

What had he become?

Jacob, still pinning Toby with his weight, tugged on the smaller man's trousers, once more revealing his backside. He ran his hand over the swastika almost lovingly. "I liked Vern, he and my daddy were friends." Jacob whispered dangerously. "When I found out some bastard killed him, I wanted revenge. All the guys said it was you and some asshole named Chris Keller." There was no hint of any lube being used this time as Jacob once again shoved his fingers into Beecher, and Toby cried out. It burned. "And you know what I heard just before I got out, Tobias?" Jacob was still talking as he forced his fingers in and out of his victim. "That you were not only free but living somewhere in Boston. My own city. I so hoped I'd cross your path one day and then, you found me! Poetic, huh?" He withdrew his fingers and lined himself up against Toby's entrance. Beecher took a deep breath, only half listening to the man now. He knew this was going to hurt like Hell. Jacob licked Toby's ear and loved the feeling of the smaller man cringing from his touch. "And then, not only do I see you, but you offer yourself to me! My old pal Vern turned you into a whore! And I fucked you good, buddy!" He stroked Beecher's hair. "And you know what, Toby? I'm gonna fuck you again. For Vern this time. And this is really gonna fucking hurt."

There was nothing that could have prepared Toby for the moment Jacob penetrated him. It was worse than anything he had ever experienced. Jacob took him hard and cruelly, acting as if the body beneath him wasn't actually a living, breathing human being. To his credit, Toby still tried to struggle, still tried to cry out for help, as if anyone was listening, but it was pointless. There was no one to help him. It seemed to take an eternity and Jacob took full benefit of the power he had over Beecher, maneuvering the small body for better access and smiling contently when he hit Beecher's prostate, forcing out a low moan from the tormented Toby.

"Yeah, you like that." Jacob grunted. "The boys always said you were a little pervert."

Beecher, to his disgust, could feel himself getting hard, and he closed his eyes, willing for Jacob to hurry up and just get it over. He jerked when Jacob reached under and grabbed his cock and began to pump him. Toby hated the sensations this caused, but he also knew this was his body's natural reaction and he could do nothing about it. All it did was add to his humiliation, to his defeat.

"Yeah baby," Jacob purred. "Take it, like the bitch you are. My bitch. Vern's bitch."

After what seemed hours, Toby finally felt Jacob tensing above him and the man began to pump Toby harder. Beecher came first, gasping Chris' name as he did so and reddening as he realized Jacob now owned him, just as Vern had done, body and soul. Jacob followed Beecher quickly, yelling out his victory as he shot his load deep into Toby. They laid there, like that, for a few moments, both trying to catch their breath and take stock of what had happened. At last, Jacob's huge bulk finally moved off of Toby, and the small man gasped for breath. Jacob smacked Toby's ass cheek, chuckling as he did so.

"You are one fucking good shag, you know that?"

Beecher didn't bother to reply. What would have been the point?

Jacob, still grinning happily, checked his watch. "Three a.m.," he mumbled. "Plenty more time to go yet." He turned Toby back over and then grabbed him by his throat, tightening his grip. "And I haven't decided whether to kill you or not. How about it, Beecher? Put you out of your fucking misery?" He kept the pressure up for a few agonising moments and then released Beecher, touching his lips gently. "Gotta say, you have a pretty mouth. Bet you've been told that before. Did Vern teach you how to suck good cock, Tobias?"

Beecher glared up at his tormentor. "Vern taught me that biting is better than sucking," he hissed back.

Jacob shrugged. "Whatever. By the way, did you mean Chris Keller?"

"What?"

"You said a name. Chris. Did you mean Keller?"

Toby pursed his lips together and didn't reply. He was not going to talk about Chris to this bastard. No way.

"Have it your way, fucker;" Jacob barked. He glanced toward the bathroom. "I'm gonna go get cleaned up. When I come back, you are gonna get on your knees and suck my dick for me, like the good little prag you are. And if you do bite me, you will regret it." He leaned closer. "I'm not James Robson." He smiled, holding up a knife he had picked up off of the floor. Beecher's heart sank. One thing he knew, he didn't survive Oz to die in a seedy place like this, at this jerk's hand. "I'll stab you in the throat if you bite me;" Jacob threatened and Toby nodded. "Good boy."

Toby couldn't help but jump as Jacob ruffled his hair.

"Remember, mine for a night. That was our agreement."

Leaving Toby to moan and whine, Jacob stood up and strode away, towards the door leading to the bathroom. Toby could see the man was almost consumed by the power he felt, lording it over the infamous Tobias Beecher. Beecher had experienced that sort of power many times before. He knew what it could do to a man. He knew it was best for him to do as he was told and then maybe, he would live through this night. He sat slumped on the floor by the bed, his head bowed, bleeding, bloodied and bruised. His whole body was crying out in anguish, everything hurt. Toby stared down at the ground, not quite even knowing how he had got to this place, this moment. He had gone backwards, become nothing but another man's whore once more. He was just a plaything, to be mistreated and abused. Is this what he actually deserved? For the crimes he had committed, for the hurt he had caused to people, for the lives he had snuffed out? The tears came then, unstoppable and unrelenting. He could sense them near by again, all of them laughing at him. Schillinger and Metzger. Andy and Hank. Kathy stood in front of them, smiling at him.

Chris reaching out for him.

Look at you now, Bitcher! Look at what your life has become.

He covered his ears, trying to block them and their laughter out. Suddenly, the noise in his head quieted. He paused, unsure. And then, he started in surprise, when he felt a hand moving gently through his hair. He cringed again, uncomfortable, as the fingers moved down his face, slowly caressing his cheek. He hadn't even heard Jacob leaving the bathroom. And why was the horrible man suddenly being kind to him? Then, he remembered. And understood. He knew what Jacob expected from him. This was obviously all part of the bastard's mind games. Toby knew what he had to do. He had no choice after all.

Rubbing at his eyes, and already obediently moving into a kneeling position, Toby looked up, ready to obey Jacob. When he saw the face that was above him, Toby stared, frozen solid in disbelief. His mouth hung open and he shook his head stupidly. No. This was impossible. The man standing over him now could not be there, must not be there. Toby was dreaming. Or he had finally lost what remained of his senses.

Because Chris Keller stood before him. Chris Keller who had been dead for ten years.

"Chris..." He mouthed, his blue eyes wide with shock.

"Hey, Toby."

"You're dead." Toby moaned. "You can't be here."

Chris blinked and gave Toby a big toothy grin.

"So Tobe, did you miss me?"

TBC