Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with O11
A/N: Happy Birthday for anyone who might have a birthday in, oh, fifteen minutes time? Give or take? Hope you like it, mate.
A/N2: Set a few months after Change of Luck. You might need to read that one first.
A/N3: I've done some research, but I freely admit, I'm playing fast and loose with history here.
It had been a long tough year, and even though only he and Rusty understood why that was the case, it probably went some way to explain why everyone seemed extra determined to make a fuss for Danny's birthday. They'd gathered in Vegas for something that was more than a get together and less than a party, and there'd been presents, music, poker, four different kinds of cake, and best of all, Tess, Rusty and all their friends.
In short, it was about as good a birthday as Danny had ever had, and judging by the sparkle of anticipation in Rusty's eyes, it wasn't over yet.
Three o'clock in the morning found them relaxing in front of the fire together, drinking whisky, the night in what might or might not be a temporary lull.
"So," he began. "I notice you didn't get me a present."
With a grin, Rusty tipped his glass towards him. "Uh huh. You're gonna have to wait till earlier."
He smiled. "Till later, you mean?" he asked, as he knew Rusty meant him to.
"Nope. "Rusty leaned forwards and the way he seemed to shine might just be from the glow of the fire. "See, I didn't get you a birthday present last year."
Not existing probably let him off the hook on that one. "Didn't get me a Christmas present either," Danny pointed out.
"Right," Rusty nodded. "So I figured I owed you."
Danny raised an eyebrow. Rusty never owed him anything.
"But I wanted to," Rusty told him. "I wanted to get you something special."
Huh. Danny cocked his head to one side. "What are you plotting?" he wondered easily.
Rusty grinned. "What makes you think I'm plotting?"
"You're breathing," Danny told him dryly.
With a laugh, Rusty reached into his pocket and drew out a playing card. The Ace of Diamonds. It had some sort of strange shape drawn on it in silver ink which Danny couldn't make out no matter how he squinted. Just tracing the edges of it made his eyes hurt.
"Okay...what am I looking at?" he asked, puzzled.
"I called in a couple of favours," Rusty told him. "From people who like me this time. To get your birthday present, we're gonna need to go on a little trip. Somewhere you've never been before."
Okay. So now he was intrigued. "Should I say goodbye to Tess?"
Rusty shook his head. "We'll be back before anyone notices we've gone," he promised.
"So where are we going?" Danny asked.
In response, Rusty held out the card. "Trust me?"
Always. He reached out and touched it, and the world dissolved and rebuilt itself, and suddenly it was daytime, and they were outside, standing in a narrow cobbled street, and the air smelled of animals and soot, and thick dark smog. Impossible. He turned to stare at Rusty, his mouth hanging open. "What...?"
The smile was bright and carefree and infectious. "Welcome to London, 1851."
This was quite simply amazing, and they just wandered the streets for a while as Danny drank it all in, his eyes everywhere at once. He'd never really been much of one for history at school, but actually being in history...yeah, this was something memorable. Things as simple as the lack of cars – the noise and smell – were somehow difficult to get his head around. And the fact that there were horses everywhere was unreal. He kept expecting to see the edge of the film set.
He was so busy watching a guy ride past on a bicycle so large he could probably reach out and touch the top of the streetlamps – seriously. Why? - that he walked smack into a couple of men coming out of an upscale restaurant, provoking some disgusted looks and an exclamation that sounded like "Demn."
"Sorry," he said at once with an apologetic smile. "My fault."
The two guys immediately sniffed in unison. "Oh, a colonial," the younger one said with a sigh. "Well, that certainly explains the appalling manners."
"And the fashion faux pas," the other agreed with a titter. "Really, what does he think he's wearing?"
Something that would be extremely stylish in a hundred and sixty years time. He looked at the eager, idle cruelty on display, and he didn't even have to glance at Rusty. "Oh, y'all folks are local?" he asked, in an amalgamation of every bad American accent he'd ever heard Basher try.
"Gee, that's great," Rusty said, adding a few more, and only Danny would be able to hear the laugh underneath. "Maybe you can settle a bet for us."
The guys smirked and crowded close. "Oh, yes? What would that be?"
Hook, line and sinker. Time for some fun.
Turned out rich arrogant assholes were the same in every time, and soon they were looking at a nice pile of fascinating money. The bills – or notes, if the Brits insisted – were about the size of an A4 sheet of paper. How did anyone think that was convenient?
At any rate, they now had plenty of money to head to Saville Row and get transformed into the very model of proper Victorian gentlemen, hats and all. . The hats were apparently mandatory. Danny just didn't get it. He'd never really thought of a hat as an essential piece of clothing, not like pants - and pants were essential, no matter what Rusty said. Still, he thought, as he adjusted his to a properly jaunty angle. He was sure he could pull this look off.
"Thank you," Rusty told the tailor as he settled up the bill. "Now you've got our measurements, we might just want a few other things run up. We'll send you our address."
Address, huh? That suggested this wasn't a day trip. Well, that was intriguing.
He waited to bring it up. They went for lunch in a nearby restaurant and indulged in stewed rabbit, fish soup and oysters, which arrived all at once, with very few vegetables to be found, and they lingered afterwards over whisky that tasted intriguingly not quite like any other whisky Danny had ever drank before.
Rusty smiled. "We got the time, we should head up north, find one of the illegal stills. Now that tastes like nothing else."
He leaned back. "So how long we here for?"
"However long you like," Rusty answered easily.
"And why here?" he asked.
"You still think I'm plotting?" Rusty asked with a grin.
"I still think you're breathing," Danny retorted.
Rusty laughed. "Okay. So, I did have something in mind. You ever hear of the Koh-i-Noor?"
He struggled to remember. "It's a diamond, right? Part of the British crown jewels? Largest in the world, or something."
"Right," Rusty agreed. "Discovered in India, taken to Britain in 1850, and right now, on display to the general public in the Crystal Palace."
The smile spread slowly. "And you want us to steal it?"
Rusty raised his glass. "Happy Birthday," he said simply.
His eyes said thank you. Then he frowned. "Wait...if we steal it, isn't that changing history?"
"Now, that's where things get interesting," Rusty said cheerfully. "Apparently, a short time in the future from now, Victoria's husband, Prince Albert - "
Danny blinked. " - he was really called - "
Rusty rolled his eyes. " - yes, and - "
Danny wasn't finished. " - Well, did he wear one, or - "
" - focus, Danny," Rusty told him severely. "Victoria's husband, Prince Albert, had the diamond cut down significantly."
That brought Danny up short. "Huh."
"Yeah, Rusty agreed."
He thought some more. Huh.
Rusty grinned. "Exactly."
"So, you have the largest diamond in the world," he said slowly. "Why would you want to make it smaller?"
"Maybe you wouldn't," Rusty suggested.
"Maybe you wouldn't," he agreed. "But maybe if you lost it, you would replace it with another one and say you'd had the first one cut down, rather than lose face."
"Face tends to be important to monarchs," Rusty nodded.
Hang on a moment. "So, what, does that mean we've already stolen it?" he asked. "Oh, this is going to give me a headache."
"Try not to think about it," Rusty advised him with a distinct lack of sympathy.
"What happens if I meet my own..." he hesitated.
"Great great grandparent," Rusty said helpfully. "Or great great great grandparent. They're all running around somewhere. So I'd advise not sleeping with or killing anyone."
He grinned. "Good advice for most situations," he noted. "Hey, how about you?"
Rusty tilted his head to one side, his eyes ever so slightly unfocused, and Danny knew he wasn't remembering, so that left him with the strange idea that Rusty was listening. "Currently in Australia," he said after a second. "The gold rush...not a problem, anyway."
"Alright then," he said with a smile. "Suppose the only question left is, what do you know about this diamond?"
The Great Exhibition of the Works of Industry of All Nations was in Hyde Park, in an amazingly beautiful glass building that was filled with trees and people and, as far as Danny could tell, everything. Safe to say, he was entranced. The crowds were incredible, tens of thousands of happy, chattering people, taking up every available space. And the exhibits themselves...there was artwork from all over the world, sitting right alongside machines for spinning cotton, microscopes, a barometer powered by leeches, what appeared to be the world's first fax machine, a projector that sent shadow puppets dancing up and down the corridor...amazing things. Impossible things.
"Having fun?" Rusty asked him lightly.
He smiled. "This is my sort of place," he said.
"Thought it might be," Rusty said, and they didn't bother with the thank yous or the this is wonderfuls. They both already knew.
In one room, surrounded by a large crowd, they saw a display of locks said to be unpickable, and the company representatives cheerfully challenged anyone from the crowd to step forwards and prove them wrong.
At the front of the crowd, Danny could see the inner workings exposed. Oh, they were simple. He could open them in ten seconds just with what he had in his pocket.
"Technology marches on," Rusty murmured in his ear.
"I suppose this would be a quick way to get noticed," Danny sighed regretfully, watching as an eager would-be-thief-or-locksmith tried his hand and failed.
Rusty shot him a sympathetic smile. "Matter of historical record who opens those locks," he said. "It's on wikipedia and everything."
Danny sulked. "It's not on wikipedia yet."
They wandered some more, admiring the exhibits and picking up some food. Burgers and hot dogs seemed out of the question, but there were baked potatoes, meat pies of dubious origin, candy apples and jellied eels.
"I'm disappointed," Rusty said after a mouthful. "Thought it would taste like jelly."
Danny wrinkled his nose. "Fish...jelly?"
"Isn't that basically what caviar is?" Rusty shrugged.
"See, this is why people say you have no class," Danny said seriously.
Rusty turned his head quickly. "Who says I have no class?"
"Well...Terry Benedict," Danny offered.
"Huh." Rusty pursed his lips. "Thought he said I had no morals."
"That too," Danny nodded.
"Huh." Rusty said again. "Maybe we can persuade him that jellied eels are the next big thing."
Danny smiled darkly. "Think after the last time we saw him, he probably doesn't care so much what the next big thing is." Probably what Terry cared most about was not seeing them ever again. Which would be fine with Danny.
They found their way to the Koh-i-Noor display eventually, mostly by following everyone else. There was a queue outside the room that looked to be about a hundred people long, and at least four deep.
"Popular," Danny noted."
"Well, there's nothing on TV," Rusty said with a shrug.
They joined the queue and waited as close to patiently as they could possibly manage. This was all about surveillance. Obviously they didn't need to worry about cameras or lasers or motion sensors, or any of the things they'd normally have to contend with, but that didn't mean they would be able to just walk in and pick up the priceless diamond. For a start there was one way in and one way out, and the crowd was kept constantly moving. There didn't seem to be a single time when there was less than fifty pairs of eyes on the diamond, and that was just the audience. There was also a small detachment of soldiers standing at attention, and a few plainclothes cops hidden amongst the crowd. Two, Danny thought.
"Three," Rusty murmured. "Another on the exit, see?"
He saw. And the case itself would take at least a couple of minutes to get open without breaking it. On the face of it, this seemed impossible. And the diamond was taken away by the soldiers every night and well guarded in the Tower of London. "I suppose we could - " he started.
"No, all the soldiers know each other," Rusty shook his head. "Plus - "
" - not enough people," he agreed. No, if they were going to try something, it would need to be here.
"Danny," Rusty said with a tiny hint of a frown. "Am I going mad, or does that guy look familiar?"
Danny raised an eyebrow. Even if someone here looked familiar to Rusty, it was hardly likely that he'd know him. But he surreptitiously turned to look anyway, and found himself looking at the guard captain. And he did look familiar, and at the same time, Danny was positive they'd never met. Though for someone he'd never met, he was having an almost uncontrollable urge to punch the man in the face.
They got it at the same time. "He looks like - "
" - Sebastian Charleston."
He did. He really, really did. Well, that explained why his fist itched.
"Would be easier if we could get a private viewing," Danny mused. As he spoke, another officer marched in and the captain saluted, and after a few moments conversation, started heading towards the exit. Going off duty.
"I'll go see what I can find out," Rusty said, starting after him.
Danny blinked and cocked his head enquiringly.
Rusty grinned. "He's been eyeing me up since we came in."
Was that really supposed to make him feel better?
Unhappily, he walked out after the two of them, keeping a comfortable distance behind, seeing the animated and the carefully-distant flirtatiousness.
When Rusty finally jogged back to meet him, he was standing at the edge of the animal show, watching vacantly as the tiger leapt from crate to crate.
"His name is Joseph Charleston," Rusty announced, as he joined Danny in leaning on the rail.
"So definitely a relative then," Danny nodded.
"I'd guess direct ancestor," Rusty said with a shrug. "More to the point, he hangs out at Bell's on Bower Street when he's off duty, and he'd be very happy to see me there."
"No doubt," Danny said dryly. "I thought that was illegal back then. Now."
Rusty just looked at him. "Yeah, because something being illegal has always meant that people don't do it."
Good point. "So we need to get a private viewing or something. Less people. And then we need a really good distraction."
There was a sudden loud crack and a sort of pained growl and, startled, he looked round to see the trainer whipping the tiger angrily. The tiger was flinching away and Danny could see blood flecked along its flanks. Shocked, he looked round, expecting to see outrage and intervention, but everyone in the crowd was just laughing, like it was entertainment.
Rusty was tense beside him. "We can't interfere. 's just the way the world is...no one will understand, and he's not doing anything wrong. She's his property."
Reacting to the tight unhappiness in Rusty's voice, he reached out and laid his hand lightly on Rusty's. "Hey."
Rusty flashed him a smile. "Careful. Illegal, remember?"
"Bet an escaped tiger would be a great distraction," Danny said in a low voice.
"Yeah, right," Rusty snorted.
He paused for a second. Actually, if they handled things just right, they could make it work for them.
"Huh." Rusty looked at him. "You thinking - "
" -yeah," he grinned. "Why not? Come on, let's get out of here."
As they walked away there was another loud crack of the whip and a distinctly-human scream. Danny risked a glance over his shoulder. "Looks like he hit himself in the face with his own whip," he noted casually.
"Really?" Rusty bared his teeth. "How...unfortunate."
