"I want you to do this job all by your lonesome, Montag. Not with kerosene and a match, but piecework, and a flamethrower. Your house, your clean up."
"No! Beatty, I can't...not anymore. What we're doing...it's so wrong. Burning books and the cruel punishment for those with books...This society that we live in...What kind of monsters has it turned us in into? We're losing sight of what being human is. We don't think. We don't communicate! We talk to people on screens for god's sake! This is the superficial world we've created and live in; where people do not feel, do not truly enjoy, where people use each other like it's nothing. Is this what you want? Are you-" An image of Clarisse appeared in Montag's mind. His chest tightened as he thought about his deceased friend, "...happy?" Montag's voice cracked. "You say books are loaded guns, that they only cause confusion and conflict? Yes, they might, but they can also do so much more! They can bring joy! By burning books, we're robbing people of so much…Emotions, opinion, and knowledge. Have you actually tried reading a book?"
The devilish grin on Beatty smug face disappeared. It settled down into a frown. His once high-held head dropped to face the hardwood floors of Montag's house. "You don't know a thing about me." He clenched his fist.
"Oh I don't know a thing about you? I know you blindly follow the orders of your superiors without questioning them. You never ask why. Why am I doing this? Have you actually thought about what we do? Wait, we're not allowed to think are we?" The anger in Montag's voice was evident. "Try it for once. Think! Do you not have a mind of your own? Do you-"Montag was interrupted by Beatty's sudden move.
Beatty grabbed the collar of his subordinate's shirt. He shoved him up against the wall and shouted, "Don't act like you know me. You do not." Tears welled up in Beatty's eyes and onto Montag's shirt. Montag was speechless. He was surprised by Beatty's sudden breakdown. He did not know how to respond so he just stood there, waiting for Beatty's next move.
Beatty felt the wet tears roll down cheeks. "What's this?" He chuckled nervously. He let go of Montag and staggered back in disbelief. He put his hands out, parallel to his chin. He felt the drops that his lacrimal gland produced. The last time Beatty cried was so long ago that the tears felt almost unreal."No, I promised myself that I would never show this side. Stop yourself!" These tears were those tears of his heart. Beatty's heart was crying for help. "Why?" was all he could mutter.
"I'm sorry, I just thought that-"
"Thought? Don't make assumptions about me. You don't know what I've been through. What I've done to get to where I am now. Do you know how hard I worked to become captain of the firemen? I had to abandon everything I believed in, I had to act like I enjoyed burning, I had to…" Beatty paused for a moment, "…kill my brother," he said quietly. "He died in a fire that…I set."
Montag became silent. All he could do was stand there and give Beatty a look of pity. "Don't look at me like that. I've had enough of that at my mother's funeral." Beatty slowly took a seat on the couch. He buried his face in his hands. "My parents were both English professors. They had this love and passion for books. Oh, they were just like that McClellan girl. They talked and enjoyed the little things in life. They also got into an…accident."
Beatty's face darkened with every word. "I truly believed their deaths were accidents, I really did. It was not until I overheard my grandparents talk about how all the professors from the college died in "accidents", did I connect the dots. I began to think about how strange it, everything, was. My parents were very careful drivers. They followed every driving law set into place! Something just did not add up. I started a little investigation. I tried calling all of the people that worked alongside my parents. Most of them didn't answer. Those who answered hung up after I mentioned the names of my parents." Beatty took a long breath. "I was just about to give up when one of them finally agreed to talk to me about the incidents. She sounded so scared on the phone. She told me, "We're all in danger! Run away! And please don't ever call this number again." It was so much to take in at once. I became so angry and I lost it. I was now hungry for revenge. My brother and I swore to avenge our parents. I joined the firemen to gain trust and make them crumble from the inside while my brother gathered survivors and those who were willing to fight for the same cause." He took another deep breath before resuming.
"One day, the firehouse received a call. Someone had reported an illegal possession of books. I arrived at the scene to see my brother along with his supporters in a house filled with old books. This memory will be embedded into my mind for as long as I live. I remember it like it was yesterday. The images are too vivid. I remember opening my mouth to call out to my brother. I remember thinking about knocking all the other firemen out and helping my brother escape. My brother stopped me before I could say anything that would expose our relationship and ruin the plan. He cried a sharp no as his eyes peered into my soul. They spoke to me, they told me not to say anything, and pretend we had no relation."
"The other firemen were all indifferent. Like when the old woman from a few days ago, my brother refused to leave. He and his supporters decided to burn along with the books. When they declared this, my brother looked at me again. With sad eyes but a smile on his face, he didn't say a word. However - that face of his that haunts me to this day told me to do the honors. I couldn't at first. I couldn't bring myself to kill my beloved brother. I was like you Montag, I tried to save them. They were so set on dying there with the books. I let them die, right there in front of my eyes. Do you know how hard it was for me to act indifferent to that woman burning?" Beatty's voice lost its composure.
"After that traumatizing experience, I worked my butt off, trying to gain trust and status so I could someday destroy those who make the laws. I achieved status when I became captain. I don't even know why but I risked all that I've built on you. I gave you so many chances to turn back but you never did." Beatty got up from his chair. "I knew you had those books and told you to burn them but you didn't. I knew you were special when you hesitated at the old woman's house. You didn't want her to die, you wanted to save her! That's why I tried to save you! I gave you so many chances! Why didn't you run?" he demanded.
Montag was not expecting this; he didn't know Beatty had such a past. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't know. I shouldn't have been so insensitive. I thought you were going to turn me in!"
"Turn you in? Put you in jail? At least you would've been kept alive! If they knew about your actions, you would've been part of an "accident". And…I couldn't bear to lose you. I felt that it was my duty to protect you, Montag. So please, burn down this house along with the books in it and let me arrest you," Beatty pleaded.
"I'm sorry I can't let you do that. I have to go to save mankind. I can't just sit still in a cell and allow this superficiality to continue in the world. If you'll excuse me I-" His mouth was shut with a sudden kiss.
Beatty's lips pressed against Montag's, hard. It was a harsh angry kiss. Beatty hands held the sides of Montag's face. Montag's eyes widen with surprise. "Mmph!" Montag cried as he struggled to part his lips from Beatty's. It was useless; Beatty was too strong.
Realizing how impulsive and inappropriate his actions were, Beatty parted his lips from Montag. His hands that were holding onto Montag's face fell down to his sides. "I'm sorry I don't know what just came over me. I was just so angry, so afraid I was going to lose you. I don't know but I can't lose you, not you. When I think about losing you my being weakens, my heart tightens, and I feel this pain in my chest. Please," Beatty said in desperation. He lifted his arms again, this time he wrapped his arms around Montag's body. He buried his face into Montag's shoulder, drenching the man's shirt.
Montag's heart skipped a beat. He did not struggle this time. His heart started to pound at Beatty's words. No one had ever made me feel this way before…I've never felt so needed…Not Mildred, not anyone has ever said this to me before. It makes me feel…What's this called? Happiness? Love? Is this what Clarisse was talking about? If I blew a dandelion now, would it stick to my chin? Out of impulse, Montag draped his arms around Beatty's neck. This felt right.
Montag pressed his lips against Beatty's. The men share a passionate kiss. The two men felt as if they were the only ones in the world. They were able to forget about their problems for a moment and just think about each other. Montag slips his tongue into the man's mouth. Beatty moans in pleasure. Montag took this as a sign that his partner wanted more. He pushed Beatty onto the couch; Montag set it up so his body would lie on top of Beatty's. Their hot bodies were pressed against each other. Their lips locked. Both men refused to let go of the other. The only times they parted was to gasp for air. Even during those times when they had to, they did not want to. They wanted to be together, for that moment, be one.
Montag, his lips still on Beatty's, pried open the buttons on his tear-stained shirt. He unbuttoned the last button and his bare body stood on top of Beatty's.
Beatty opened his eyes and caught a glimpse of Montag's naked torso. Oh, god. Those toned muscles. Beatty wanted to take Montag now. He twisted his body and switched positions with Montag. Beatty was now on top.
Beatty's lips slowly descended down Montag's naked body as he now unbuttoned his shirt. When Beatty's lips reached the nape of Montag's neck, Montag moaned and arched his back in pleasure. "Touch me more," Montag begged.
As Beatty's lips continued to probe Montag's chest he touched upon Montag's two most sensitive areas. Montag wanted to return the favor. His hands grabbed Beatty's face and guided it back to his face. Their lips lock again. The air was hot and heavy. The panting became louder as Montag's hand began a journey down Beatty's chest and to Beatty's pants. Montag unbuckled Beatty's belt and put his hands inside his (Beatty's) pants.
Beatty felt a shiver down his spine as he felt a cold hand caress the lower part of his body. It was a pleasurable sensation that made all the blood in his body rush to where Montag was stroking. Beatty moaned in Montag's mouth as the two continued to make love.