A/N: All I can say is wow, is it Halloween already? And, of course, I'm sorry. The ugly beast known as Real Life reared its ugly head, and the only writing I had time for was the occasional grocery list. Things should be calmer now, and with any luck I'll be able to continue this without further interruption.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Listener or any associated characters.

Part Ten

Oz knew, usually, when and where he had a place in a situation. In this case, when Toby needed him to be fun and distracting and all the stuff Osman Bey was supposed to be, he was. Otherwise, he stayed out of the way. Somehow he hadn't expected Olivia to need him.

"Oz, hey, I wanted to talk with you," she said, and gave a rather abrupt tug on his arm. His coffee sloshed. She led him to an empty examination room.

Oz straightened himself out. "What's up?"

"Have you spoken with Toby recently? I was on the phone with him the other day. He sounded better."

Oz sucked on his teeth, and glanced at the door. "Yeah, he is, kinda. I brought over some food from my parents' place, we kept each other company."

"What do you mean, kind of?" Her eyes were sharper than he'd seen them.

He almost said, "It's complicated," but he realized he could offer at least some information. "He's not really back on his feet just yet."

Olivia deflated. She slumped against the door, and rubbed the heel of her hand over her brow ridge. "Ugh. I just wish he'd keep me better informed. I'm his doctor."

"Bit more than that," said Oz under his breath. Olivia glared at him.

After a moment, she softened. "I know he has a right to privacy, but I really think that I could help. I mean, I have no idea what could be wrong with him that he'd need to keep secret. Or how it connects to all the other stuff he's lied about."

Oz offered a weak smile. "I dunno. Maybe it's not something he wants to tell you when he's sick. Sometimes you have to wait till the moment's right."

"Yeah," she said. "Still."

They stood for a moment in silent commiseration before returning to work.

The car ride back from Quickley's was tense. Charlie couldn't quite understand why they hadn't shaken him down more thoroughly, and Toby's mind was a whirl of questions and useless answers.

"He's not - I don't know. He's good at this." Toby's toes twitched.

Charlie's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "So am I," she said. "I was doing just fine before you showed up."

A faint mumbling intruded on his thoughts. He looked at Charlie, and it was gone. "This is a guy who knows everything about me. Charlie, I can read minds. I'm not the easiest person to tail."

"As if that's the only explanation."

Toby shifted in his seat, and leaned into the window. "He creeps me out."

Charlie glanced at him, although he didn't see. "He's not exactly Joe Six-Pack, I agree."

"No, it's just -" Toby looked out at the street, where hollow people drove depthless cars. "I'm used to being in people's heads. I don't enjoy it," he said quickly, "but I'm there. Or I was. And I didn't realize until now exactly how much a part of me that is."

"And he messed with it," said Charlie softly. She twisted the steering wheel, and they turned onto slightly more crowded street.

"I don't even know how. The idea that someone could just find out about me, and then take it away, is . . . I don't quite feel -"

"Safe," finished Charlie. Toby turned his head towards her, and suddenly made the obvious connection.

Foreign thought rippled in the back of his mind, but he couldn't quite make out the words.

Charlie put on the brakes, and Toby realized they were outside his apartment building. She gave him a look. "Thanks," he said.

"If you need anything, call me," she said.

Toby hesitated. "I will," he said.

He slipped out of the car, and pulled his coat tighter around him. The air, empty as it was, still stung against his face. Charlie waited for him to reach the steps before driving off.

Toby watched her, then climbed the stairs.

He jolted slightly when he suddenly noticed a neighbor shutting her door, but shook it off. He still wasn't quite used to seeing people before he sensed them - or not sensing them at all. She smiled and nodded, then went on her way. Her keys jangled like a ghost's chains.

Okay, he thought, plan. Need a plan.

They knew where Quickley was, at least for now. He knew that Quickley would probably show up again when the drug wore off, so he could at least rely on that. He knew that there were others, or at least that Quickley wanted him to think there were others.

He shut the door to his apartment behind him, and shrugged off his coat. He'd been trying not to think about that.

Toby folded himself up into a kitchen chair, and he realized he still hadn't bought groceries. Oz would be working, so he'd need to call for pizza himself.

He fished in his pocket for his cell phone, then dialed the number from memory. It rang twice. "Mitzi's Pizza, where friendliness is free of charge. How can I help you?"

Toby gave his usual order. "My pleasure," the girl chirped, despite the fact that he hadn't actually thanked her. "And I can guarantee delivery within thirty minutes."

"Thanks," he said, and flipped the phone shut. He rubbed at a soreness on one forearm that hadn't quite faded. He glanced at the sink, then stood up to get a drink.

He was distracted enough to let the glass overfill, so he sloshed some off the top and brought it to his lips. The water had barely touched his tongue when realization overcame him.

If Quickley was drugging him, he had to be doing it somehow. Toby set his glass down rather violently. There was the possibility it was in the water. How the hell had they missed that?

He stared at the cup for a moment, reclaiming his nerves. It was such a stupid mistake, such a dumb thing not to consider - he could understand missing it himself, all things considered, but Ray should've thought of it. Toby shivered, just enough to let the nervous energy roil off of him.

He inhaled, and pushed the glass towards the back of the counter. He probed his pocket for his phone. He scrolled through his contacts, looking for Ray's name. The thought occurred to him that he hadn't even called him about finding Quickley.

"This is a mess," he muttered. He pressed the appropriate button, and Ray's number flashed on the screen.

It rang twice, then Ray answered on the third. "Toby?"

Toby crossed his free arm over his chest. "Yeah," he said, unsure how to begin. "I know you're probably eating, but -"

Ray understood immediately. "I'll be right over. Is something - wrong?"

"Not that way," said Toby. "Could you just . . .?"

There was a pause. "No, of course. Give me fifteen minutes."

"Yeah," said Toby. They hung up, and he paced.

Ray arrived before the pizza. Toby opened the door without checking the peephole - it simply wasn't a habit - and was still somewhat shocked when there was a person on the other side. There was something there, something more than before, but he was too frazzled to care.

Ray stepped in without an invitation. He didn't need one. "What is it?" he asked.

Toby gestured for the table. They took their seats. "Something's wrong," he said. "There's just too much - I dunno. I - Charlie and I - went to go see Quickley today, and -"

Ray stopped him. "You went to see Quickley? Without telling me?"

"I didn't think of it," said Toby. Ray gave him a look.

"How'd you find him?"

There was another thing Ray probably needed to know. "I got it off a guy. It wasn't quite the same as the way I usually do it," he said quickly, "but I got his number. Charlie ran it, and we got an address."

Ray processed this for a moment. Toby could guess, at least, that he was attempting to decide which question to ask next. "What did he tell you?" he asked after a beat.

"He's done this before," said Toby slowly, keeping the thought filed firmly under 'worry later'. "But he's good at keeping control. He didn't let anything slip."

Ray drummed his fingers on the tabletop. He adjusted his scarf. "All right. Assuming he doesn't move base, we know where he is now. That counts for something."

Toby threw a sideways glance towards nothing in particular. Noise crackled in the back of his head. Still no words, no meaning, nothing he had the time to be troubled about yet. "There's something else."

Ray lifted his eyebrows.

"We missed something." His gaze shifted to the glass, and then back to Ray. "Something I don't think we should've."

His friend's expression urged him on, and Toby continued. "If he's . . . drugging me . . . he has to be doing it somehow. Putting something in my food, or water, or something."

"Yes," agreed Ray, slowly. "That's obvious."

"But we haven't been thinking about it." There was a long pause as Ray put things together.

"No," he said. "No." Ray shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense."

"It ought to've been one of the first things we thought of, after Liv ran that test." Toby swallowed. Ray was obviously distressed, and struggling to keep up his usual front. "But all we ever asked was who."

Ray's eye twitched, just once, and when he spoke his voice was level. "If there was something interfering with our ability to investigate this, why would it only affect that one question? And -" He paused. "- how would such an effect be placed?"

Toby exhaled, and leaned over the heels of his hands. He ground them into his eyes. "I don't know. You were right before - none of this makes any sense."

Ray relaxed on hand on the table, and ran the other over his head. "We just have to think through this. Make sure we're not missing anything else, then go from there."

"Yeah," said Toby.

And in the back of his mind, the crackling noise grew.