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So, that motherfucking Nazi thought he was going to get paroled and just walk away from here, fancy free? Oh no, not a chance in hell. Toby had plans, plans that would have Vern Schillinger wishing to Christ he had never heard the name Tobias Beecher let alone ever laid a hand on him. Vern had fucked him over and no way was he being cheated out of a chance for retribution. Quid pro fucking quo, baby.
Only…
"In the Bible, it says an eye for an eye," he mused out loud.
Said gave him a curious look, nodded. "It does. It also says love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you."
"That's bullshit," Toby said, gaze following Vern as he pushed the mail cart along.
Said shrugged, watching him. "What are you thinking, Beecher?"
Lips pooched out, casually scratching his beard, Toby returned a shrug, studied in its nonchalance. "Who says I'm thinking anything?"
Said gave him a knowing look at that. "You're always thinking something, Beecher."
Toby crossed his arms over his chest, slouching down in the chair a little more. "Schillinger's a racist prick, he'd get a rope and lynch you if he could, Said. Do you love him? Did God make him?"
Said sighed, expression troubled. "Schillinger made himself what he is today, and no, I don't love the sin or the sinner. He's not worth hating, though." Turning in the chair to look at him, Said asked, "Is revenge on Schillinger worth the cost to your soul, Beecher?"
"You're assuming I've got one."
"Oh, you do. You wouldn't ask these questions if you didn't."
Sounded good, but … "It's not fucking fair."
Sadness in his smile, Said gave his head a shake. "No, nothing ever is fair or right or just. Or, only for a fleeting moment."
"Then what's the point, Said?"
"Those fleeting moments, Beecher, when we do hold excellence in our hand because we know the choice we made was right."
"And let God sort out the rest?"
Said's smile was warmer now. "It's an idea."
Toby sighed, tracked Vern on his way out of Em City. "And what will be my reward?"
"Who can say? You might never know."
"Not what you'd call a big incentive," he grumbled, hating to let go of the germ of an idea, positive the immediate kick of satisfaction when Vern knew he'd been screwed over, and by whom, would be better than a hit of heroin.
What if that didn't end it, though?
When he entertained himself with the idea, that's where it stopped: Vern looking stupid, knowing he'd been fucked. If he let himself play it out a little further, however, he would be forced to admit retaliation would follow in a war of attrition that might only end when one, or both, of them was pushing up daisies. And the collateral damage along the way? Could that ever be justified? Could he ever live with that on his conscience, when the ghost of Kathy Rockwell poked and prodded him every night?
He let out a deep sigh, shoulders slumping with it. "And if I turn the other cheek and get smacked again?" he asked Said.
"There's always that risk, no matter what."
Toby really hated it when someone had all the answers. Especially when they weren't the ones he wanted to hear. "I'll think about it." He couldn't promise more than that.
Feeling someone watching him, Toby looked up from smooshing his mashed potatoes around to find Said regarding him. "What?"
"I heard Schillinger went home today."
Innocent as could be, Toby said, "Did you have cause to think he wouldn't?"
"A stray thought that way might have crossed my mind."
He shrugged. "People get crazy stuff stuck in their heads sometimes."
"They do, yes. It's good when they shake it lose."
Yes, probably; he wasn't entirely convinced he'd made the right choice to let well enough alone -- but he was glad temptation had been removed. "I'm sure something else will come along."
"No doubt," Said agreed, still looking pleased with the situation as he went over to join Arif and the others.
Glad one of them was happy, Toby forked up a piece of breaded fish, and thought getting served up a tray of this crap was just about the reward he would expect for ever doing the right thing in Oz.
"Chris Keller, Tobias Beecher," Wittlesey said. "He'll be your sponsor in Emerald City. He's gonna show you the ropes."
Toby eyeballed the other man -- around his age, probably making a repeat trip through the criminal justice system because he knew to look cool and tough and in control, even with a cast on his arm. He wished someone had given him some tips on that before he'd arrived in this same spot, because Christ knew Dino Ortolanti hadn't knocked himself out any to make the new guy feel at home.
"How you doing?" he said, guessing one of them should speak.
"I'm in prison, fuckwad, how do you think I'm doin'?"
"Oh well, and pleased to make your acquaintance too." Man, you just couldn't win around this goddamn place.