Quiatus by InSilva
Disclaimer: don't own them.
Summary: In which Linus faces up to some truths. Oh, and I wish to add "(sic)" after the title.
A/N: this came from comments from kenzimone, NothingToulouse and otherhawk. For three different fics.
A/N 2: yes, yes. Had alphabetenvy.
"Wake up, Linus."
It's Danny. Ridiculously bright and cheery and- Linus crooks open one eye. Yup. Dressed and ready to go like he always is.
Danny is sitting by the bed, smiling. Rusty is actually sitting on the bed, eating some sort of snack – Cheetos? Fritos? – and that is surely not a sane choice for breakfast.
Sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Linus reflects that Rusty doesn't do sane.
"You'll get crumbs in the bed," Linus says absently and chooses to ignore the lightning flash of amusement that darts on to both their faces.
He swings his legs over the edge of the bed and pads off to the bathroom, leaving the guys squabbling over whether Hansel and Gretel would have made it back to their house if they'd left a trail of chip crumbs; there being some doubt as to (a) whether the birds would see the crumbs and (b) whether they were as appealing to birds as bread. This is an old one. He even knows Danny's final line.
"If you were a bird, I bet they'd appeal. Mind you, if you were Hansel, there'd be no crumbs.
You guys, Linus thinks.
It has been a deep con. Involved and elaborate and really, that's just par for the course. Ever since he sat in that Irish pub in Chicago and made the decision that had changed his life for richer and better, Linus hasn't had to think twice about working with Danny Ocean. And working with Danny means not only contemplating a scheme that might be called "out there", it means walking up to the scheme, tapping it on the shoulder and introducing yourself and buying it dinner.
He always thought that Vegas (the first time) would be the single most intense experience of his life. And he still has a soft spot for it. Seeing Danny and Rusty in full flow…meeting the other guys…making friendships he hadn't completely realised he'd made until Turk handed him a soda he hadn't asked for and Basher had dealt him a hand of poker he hadn't known he was playing…
Yes, he'd thought Vegas might be the pinnacle. Definitely hard to beat. And then there had been Europe. And after the conversation with Terry Benedict in the car in the street outside his home where he thought he might die, cry or wet himself, Europe had been a rollercoaster just as intense as Vegas. The deadline, for example. Even when he'd understood the plan in its entirety, he'd still had to count off the hours in his head. It had all been one long blur of misdirection and deception and he had felt exhausted and relieved in equal measure at the end.
And then back together again in Vegas for the second time. The time where it had all been very personal – not that working under threat of death didn't have a ring to it, but this had been for Reuben. Mom and Dad had understood at once.
"Of course, you have to go," Dad had said. "Give Reuben our love and you-"
"-call if I need to," he'd finished and rolled his eyes.
Somehow, the second time in Vegas had been even more satisfying than the other two. And that was partly because of Reuben's return to form and partly because of seeing the guys again and partly because he – he – had come up with the idea of asking Benedict and partly because he had done a damn fine job with the Gilroy and the Brody and mostly, mostly because of the approbation in Danny and Rusty's eyes and the invitation from his dad to go work with him. He had felt like crying.
So, yes, when Rusty rings and says that there's a little something planned, Linus says yes before the sentence is finished. He's always going to say yes.
And the con is as complicated and clever as ever and as ever, there is the buzz of working with the best of the best.
Not everyone is present as he walks into the room. But he nods to Livingston and he smiles at Frank and of course, there's Danny and there's Rusty. Larger than life and he still gets a tiny shiver inside thinking about expertise and genius hidden beneath easy charm. Life doesn't get better than this.
He is riding the L train down through mid-town Chicago, lifting wallets easily, effortlessly, working the blurry crowd of faceless people and he thinks back to when this had seemed such a thrill.
The thing is "thrill" had had to be redefined. It has had to be listed in a whole different dictionary along with joy and marvel and wonder and zenith.
He knows he is being followed.
Judd Emerson is a rich man grown fat on dubious income and like many rich men of that ilk, he wants to stay that way. His fortune is well-guarded and his misfortune is that Danny and Rusty have heard about it. They like a challenge. And this is on Linus's home turf, the outskirts of Chicago. He likes the challenge too.
Linus is waiting with them outside the main gates and he is watching the conversation that he can never hear in full. Something that has sparked a memory in Rusty and a "Richmond, Minnesota" to which Danny has laughed and said "Mosaics" and then there have been half-sentences and unspoken and they have been away in a world of their own.
He doesn't mind. He really doesn't. After all this time, he understands that there are things he will never understand.
The following becomes irksome. It's unnecessary, a complete game and they know he knows. He knows they know he knows.
Enough.
"Quit it, will ya?" he snaps as he steps out on to the platform.
Danny and Rusty make themselves visible at once.
"Sorry, kid," Danny apologises.
Rusty looks unrepentant and opens up another bag of chips. Man, that metabolism…
"Just wanted to make sure you were on your toes," Danny soothes.
"Oh, I'm on them," he replies irritably and sprints away.
They've got the rubies, this is the thing. Livingston's tech and Frank's inside work and they've moved cleanly and carefully through the house and they've got what they came for.
They're on their way out now. Exit time and Rusty is ahead of him and Danny is behind him and he is smiling at the ridiculous protectiveness, even now, even after all these years. There is that thrill (see dictionary) running through him, running through all of them. The absolute thrill and Linus feels if they could only bottle this, they'd make a fortune. He knows why Danny and Rusty drink and never get drunk: this feeling beats any artificial high.
They catch up with him in the empty diner where he's nursing a latte.
"Linus," Rusty chides gently. "We didn't mean you to run."
"Don't run," Danny asks in a voice that can't be refused.
"Alright," he agrees.
"And don't hide," Rusty tells him.
"You mustn't hide," Danny echoes.
And that's a harder thing to ask but he looks at their faces, sincere and earnest and he sighs and nods. He will try.
They are crossing a room richly laid with antiquities. Rusty opens a door and almost immediately shuts it again, throwing his weight behind it. Before Linus can react, Danny (of course) has already understood and (of course) is already reacting. He pulls Linus further back into the room towards a small carved wooden screen.
"Get behind here," Danny hisses and unthinking, Linus obeys. "Keep quiet," Danny instructs and the protest dies on Linus's lips as he sees the look in Danny's eyes.
It's lunchtime and the three of them are strolling through downtown Chicago. Rusty is eating a hotdog, dripping with ketchup and mustard and is licking off the excess which runs over his fingers.
The sight doesn't make Linus uncomfortable the way it once might have. Instead, he watches Danny watching with amused indulgence and affection. Linus isn't bothered about that particular avenue either. Well, maybe just a little. Because even though it doesn't matter at all, it still matters. And he knows they have played him as easily as any other mark on this point. Heck, they could kiss each other while he was watching and that would prove nothing. In fact, they could take things very far indeed while he was watching in the desire to tease.
"You think it would get as far as that?" Danny's eyes are twinkling.
Damn it.
Rusty says nothing but the eating of the hotdog gets just that bit more suggestive.
Judd Emerson in all his manic glory and the first thing he does as he bursts into the room is to punch Rusty squarely in the face.
Linus hears the fist connect and through the hinges in the screen, he sees Rusty tumble backwards as even he is caught out by the sudden and the vicious. Danny swears and rushes forward and there's only Judd and three men and surely they can outwit these; Danny and Rusty can do anything.
He stretches out in the warm sun in Lincoln Park, Danny and Rusty lying one on each side and spotting patterns in the clouds. There is comfort and safety here and he tastes a little of what Danny and Rusty have with each other.
"You should get back, Linus," Danny murmurs.
There's no rush.
Violence explodes in front of him, venomous and unstoppable. The rubies have spilled from Rusty's pocket and they have run all over the floor, their fall cushioned by soft carpet.
One ruby rolls close to Linus and he can see the rich and the red and he looks up and sees similar in the blood pouring down Danny's face. Rivers of scarlet are making their way down Rusty's face too, flowing freely from nose and lips and the scream inside Linus is tight and desperate.
It has been seconds since Danny pushed him behind the screen and Linus knows Danny is trying to keep him safe. He watches Danny go to ground again and he sees Rusty's anguish as Danny does and fuck it. Linus doesn't want to be safe. He wants to go down fighting.
Mom and Dad aren't home. He knows this instinctively as he opens the door. He turns round to say "You can come in, guys" but they're already over the threshold.
"Bobby and Molly are worried about you," Danny says out of nowhere.
Linus shrugs. They're parents. They're made to worry.
"You need to talk to them," Rusty suggests and Linus shrugs again.
Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't.
Danny flashes thunder at him and Rusty doesn't look any happier but he doesn't care. He might not be the cavalry but he's evening up the odds. Because the thing is, it's three against four now and even though he's hardly going to put any of the bad guys down, he still needs to be contained.
Blood is slippery;
They are all quick to react:
The door is so close.
He slumps down in front of the TV and finds that Rusty has commandeered the remote. Danny is perched on the end of the couch.
"Try to talk to them," Danny advises.
Linus pulls a face. He has tried. He tried a little while back and there was pain beyond belief. Running away from the confrontation seemed a good plan. He didn't want to face Mom and Dad and here, at least, they seemed to be leaving him alone and giving him space.
Rusty reads his thoughts. "It's not the answer," he says gently, looking up from "Friends": it's the one where Eddie won't move out.
Linus stares at the screen.
"I'm scared," he admits.
The half-second of opportunity has been seized and somehow they are all three free and running. Pursuit is close behind.
Stairs and halls and doors and then fresh air and the wall is in sight, he can see the wall, he can see the ropes, their entrance into the grounds and their exit.
Freedom. Safety. So close he can taste them.
It's not the first time Danny and Rusty have tried to convince him to talk. If he didn't know better, he'd have said that that was their main purpose in being here. They're nothing if not persistent.
"You can talk to us as often as you like-"
"-but we're not the ones who need to hear from you," Danny finishes firmly as Linus hands round the Chinese takeout.
Linus stares at them both.
He is first up the rope and the others are close behind him, he is certain they're behind him. He scrambles to the top and tries not to focus on flashlights and dogs and he reaches down to grab Rusty's hand but Rusty isn't there; neither's Danny. Wildly, desperately, he looks for them. They're nowhere near and he wonders how he could be so mistaken.
A shot rings out and he falls back off the wall and there is blackness.
Linus puts a hand up to his temple where the bullet struck him. There is nothing there now. No mark, no scar, no pain. There is nothing on any of them. Danny's smile is full of its usual lazy magnetism and Rusty's eyes are alive with the amusement that permanently resides there. No blood, no broken bones, no pain.
Linus stares down at the noodles.
"Alright," he whispers. "I'll try."
Molly squeezes Linus's hand. His eyes are shut and they look as if they might open any minute.
Any minute.
He looks as though there are words he wants to say and he'll say them any second now.
Any second.
Bobby's hand rests on her shoulder and he pulls her head into his body.
Linus looks like he might come back to them at any time.
Any time.
Bones have knitted, injuries have healed. The bullet that was fired into him, the bullet that should have killed him, has been removed. Really, there is no reason at all why Linus shouldn't be sitting up right about now.
But that's what they thought weeks ago, an age ago and nothing.
Bobby sits down beside Molly and the grief and the guilt on his face is endless.
"It wasn't your fault," Molly whispers fiercely and he smiles emptily.
Livingston is the one who alerted him. Panic behind the professional in his voice. Bobby had swung into action and he is the one who found the bodies, stacked up in a heap and ready for disposal, by the door of a room they have never left. A room of blood and violence and pain and death.
None of their faces are that recognisable. If Bobby hadn't known who he was looking at, he'd have had difficulty identifying them. The bullet holes in the temples are final. Gently, he pulls Danny and Rusty away, lays them down, tears falling and the tears run faster as he strokes Linus's cheek. It is warm. Frantically, he checks and there is a pulse and life, thready but real.
Bobby doesn't remember much after that. He checked Danny and Rusty – still very dead – and then he'd called Molly. And then there'd been the long wait at the hospital. And now there is the long wait at the hospital.
Linus sighs and tries to procrastinate.
"It'll hurt."
"Life's like that," Danny says wryly.
"Come on, Linus," Rusty says, finishing his sixth spring roll.
Danny squeezes his hand. "It's time."
"Try," Rusty tells him and he nods. He's ready to.
He shuts his eyes and tries to open them.
