Reunion by InSilva
Disclaimer: I lay no claim to any Ocean's character.
Summary: One-shot. Much can happen in four years and some things come back to bite. Set between O11 and O12.
Modern art was its own murky world of weirdness and pretension to pretension. In his time, Rusty had spent an evening at a gallery in a room of extremely expensive painted shoe-boxes earnestly discussing the use of structure and form to convey the oppression of bureaucracy. Another occasion had seen him stood underneath strips of newspaper suspended from a ceiling debating - with the artist himself, it turned out – the superficiality of the media in print. It all seemed too much like the "Emperor's New Clothes" and only the need on the one occasion to pull in a mark and on the other to allow Danny time to case the rooms upstairs had kept the amusement off his face.
There was no keeping the amusement off his face tonight. The open exhibition was entitled "Man's Domination: suppression of the feminine in modern society". He was stood in the middle of lumps of provocatively shaped clay and the walls were hung with black and white photos of men and women wearing an insane amount of leather and latex.
A man walked past in deep discussion with a serious young woman who was nodding furiously.
"-obviously, the artist is dismantling the heart of the phallocentric world by demonstrating the subjugation of the female and the rampant machoism contained within the tendency-"
"-more than that," the woman interrupted, "the need-"
"-yes, yes, the need for men to compare and contrast their manhood as a measure of virility and strength-"
"-and ascendancy-"
"- and ascendancy to their expected position-"
The conversation without end tailed away as Rusty walked past them and toward Tess and Danny stood with drinks in their hands beside a large portrait of a woman in the crucifix position in chains.
"Hello, Tess," he smiled and leant forward to kiss the cheek she offered up.
"Oh, thank you for coming, Rusty," she said distractedly. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry but we had this invite ages ago and I know the artist and I promised we'd come and support her and when you said you were coming, I told Danny he could stay home and he insisted on accompanying me," she flashed a grateful glance at her husband, "and he said you wouldn't mind and I'm sorry, I'm sorry because I know this isn't-"
"Tess," Rusty interrupted, "it's absolutely fine. I am just really pleased to see both of you again and it's nice to be away from running the hotel for a while."
"We don't have to stay long and we can go for a meal afterwards-"
"Most definitely," Rusty agreed and Tess seemed to relax a little.
"Thanks," and she smiled. "Let me get you a drink."
She disappeared and he stood next to Danny.
You're awfully quiet.
Just enjoying the moment.
"So, I take it that the reason you didn't want us to stay home was-"
"-promotional preview literature," Danny nodded. "Didn't think you should miss out."
Rusty grinned.
"It definitely makes an impression." He looked askance at Danny. "How's Tess with all this?"
"This is art. Therefore, she's fine."
They looked round at the well-endowed sculptures.
Ever felt inadequate?
Are you looking to me for reassurance?
They both chuckled and waited for Tess to return.
Tess was currently engaged in a conversation with Larissa, the artist, who had made a healthy number of sales.
"So when did you become Mrs Carlisle?" Larissa asked.
"Oh, recently," Tess said truthfully and tried not to think of how surprised she had been.
"Where is he?"
Tess waved the glass of champagne she had acquired for Rusty.
"The blond?"
"No, no," Tess smiled at the very idea. "The dark-haired man."
"Oh." There was meaning, definite meaning in the word and Tess had to pursue it.
"Oh?" she repeated.
"Well," and Larissa's tone was cool, "he just seems the stereotypical alpha male. Full of testosterone. I can smell it from here. Adopting the aggressive posture of a man who expects woman to obey."
"He's not like that," Tess frowned.
"Tess, Tess, I'm not saying that he chooses to be like that. But men can't help themselves. Especially when they meet an impressionable woman who then finds herself playing a role that man has created for her-"
"Larissa," Tess broke in, "you are more wrong than you will ever know. He is not like that."
Larissa held her gaze for a moment and then sniffed.
"In which case I apologise," she said in a voice that suggested she was not at all sorry.
Danny was watching the discussion from the other side of the room and he could see Tess's mouth setting firmly the way it did when she disapproved of something. It was a look he was familiar with. He glanced over at Rusty who was staring with a frown and trying to decipher an orgiastic model of limbs and body parts and a flicker of a memory stirred.
He had been married to Tess for a month. It was the launch of a new artist at the gallery Tess worked for and there had been anxiety and worry as to whether there would be sufficient numbers to fill the space. Rusty and he had taken it upon themselves to invite several wealthy cognoscenti and several of the several had accepted.
Tess had been smiling and relieved up until the point where Rusty had arrived. Rusty was dressed soberly for Rusty but to be honest, Danny thought he could pitch up in a canon's cassock and he would still catch people's eyes.
He walked across the room towards the two of them, full of his habitual elegance and he had nodded at Tess but his gaze was on Danny and there was everything in there that Danny had come to expect and everything that Danny reciprocated. The warmth, the funny, the intelligence, the them. Danny hadn't had to see Tess's face then to see the look.
Later, he'd stood with Rusty while Tess had helped collate the sales and total the figures. They had already had two separate approaches from women who had gone away having been let down gently.
"Doesn't she mind?" Rusty asked.
"Mind what?"
Rusty waved a hand at the room which had more than its fair share of pretty women in elegant dresses.
"Letting you loose." Rusty watched the last woman who had swum into their orbit and away again flirting with a man who was responding with enthusiasm. "Doesn't she worry that some beautiful blonde is going to seduce you?"
Danny said nothing. He waited.
"I mean not that you would-" He turned back to Danny and the words disappeared.
It was all on Danny's face.
"Oh," Rusty said and blinked. And then "Oh" and he shook his head with a chuckle. And then "Oh" and the laughter died and he looked at Danny with concern.
She really thinks…?
"She knows we haven't. She thinks we might."
"You've talked about it?"
Danny shook his head.
"No need. I can tell every time you're near it's part of what she's thinking."
"I never-"
"- I know," he said soothingly. Because it had honestly never occurred to Rusty. Because Rusty had seen Tess's mouth tighten up and had thought it was simply down to sharing Danny. Which…yes.
Rusty was staring at him now and there was tension and apprehension in all the unsaid. And Danny knew that if he wanted, if he asked, Rusty would walk out of the door and never see him again. Would make it so. Would probably move to another continent to make chance meetings less likely.
"It's OK," Danny said quietly. "It's just the…" he waggled a thumb between them. "She doesn't quite get it. Almost but not quite."
Rusty nodded slowly.
"I don't want to ever, ever-"
"You won't," Danny told him and there was a fierce edge to it. "Ever. We clear?"
And Rusty had relaxed and smiled. And thereafter, for a while, he had paid more attention to Tess and he had hid the shine in her presence and made a conscious effort not to communicate non-verbally and had spoken in complete sentences until Danny had sighed and told him to stop it. Because whatever he did, Tess would still think and he was only hurting them.
Now, after Vegas, after time spent together, Tess and Rusty were on a better footing than they had ever been. And Danny's heart sang at that. Because how ever often Rusty told him it was always fine, always OK, Danny wanted it to be fine, wanted it to be OK and Tess held the key to making it so.
"Gonna go freshen up," Rusty said. He glanced at the exhibits. "Just hope there's nothing provocative in the bathroom."
"Only you."
Rusty grinned and stepped away.
Danny stood alone and lost in thought for a moment and then someone bumped into him and apologised profusely.
"Sorry, mate." It was an Australian accent.
"No problem."
"Walter Prendergast." The man was tall and broad and tanned.
"Stephen Carlisle." Danny shook hands firmly.
"Pleased to meet ya. Whaddya think of all this crap?" Walter gestured at the exhibits and without waiting for an answer, continued, "I can't get my head round it but they tell me it's worth a fortune. Thought I might pick up some pieces but not now I've seen them. Bloody stuff's crud. Don't want it in your home, do ya, mate?"
"Not my kind of thing," Danny agreed with an easy smile.
"Too bloody right," Walter agreed fervently. He sighed. "Don't suppose you know a garage that's open round here, do ya? My tyre's only gone and bloody blown as I parked. I don't reckon I got a jack in the back either."
"Sorry," Danny said sincerely.
Walter sighed again. "Never mind. Me and Tyrone will have to hump it up ourselves. Well…Tyrone can do the humping. He's built for it."
Danny bit his lip, wished Rusty was there, was glad he wasn't and looked casually round for Tyrone and found him, standing against a nearby wall with personal bodyguard written all over him. It would be wrong to call Tyrone a mountain of a man but he was at least a very large hill. You would not mess with Tyrone.
"You here with anyone?"
"A good friend and my wife." Danny indicated Tess and Walter let out a low whistle of appreciation.
"Lot of class there, mate. Good on ya. She's a beaut." He checked his watch. "Well, guess we might as well go and sort the bloody car out. Nice to meet you, Stephen."
"Likewise, Walter."
Danny watched him leave and then Rusty and Tess simultaneously reappeared and Tess's demeanour pushed thoughts of belligerent Australians out of Danny's head.
"Here." She pushed the glass of champagne at Rusty and neither Danny nor Rusty needed to have the skill they possessed to be able to tell she was upset.
"What is it?" Danny asked gently.
"Someone's insulted you," she said, anger flashing on to her face. "I am so furious about it."
Danny's fingers reached out to touch her face gently and she pushed his hand against her cheek, wrapping her fingers in his.
"How dare she?" Tess muttered. "She doesn't even know you."
"Never stops some people," Danny said lightly.
"I just want to go," Tess said. She looked over at Rusty. "I know you just got here-"
Rusty smiled. "Easy come, easy go, Tess. That's me."
"Right," Danny said firmly. "That restaurant opposite where we parked. The Italian."
"Sandrini's," Rusty supplied promptly, sipping the champagne and they both looked at him.
"Do you know this area?" Tess frowned.
"No." He took another sip and saw that her frown hadn't disappeared. "What? I parked my car there too. Big parking lot. Bet most of the people here are parked there."
The frown was still there and Rusty shot a quick look at Danny who pulled the glass from his fingers and balanced it on a nearby table. "I don't think the parking lot is the point, Rus."
"No." Rusty had moved on. "The point is, do you think there will be amaretto crème brûlée?"
"Ooh!" Tess gave a little squeak of excitement. "That sounds wonderful!"
Danny's face was carefully neutral.
What?
Thinking about the noises.
Rusty's grin was wide and he flicked a glance at Tess and back.
Maybe even in stereo.
It was a short walk to Sandrini's. Just as they were about to walk through the door, a string of colourful curses came from the car park.
"Oh!" Tess blushed.
Danny grinned. He recognised the accent.
"Look. I think that's a guy I got chatting to at the gallery. He was having car trouble. Maybe I should go help."
Rusty raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me. You're just a good Samaritan."
Danny shrugged. "He was nice about Tess."
"He was?" A spontaneous little smile flashed on to Tess's face and Danny leaned forward and kissed her.
"He was. You go find us a table, Tess. He didn't have a jack. I'll see whether ours fits."
"I'll check mine," Rusty nodded. "See you in a bit, Tess."
They walked over to the parking lot and the curses became clearer.
"I'm picking up some new words," Rusty said mildly. "Guy's got an imagination." He angled his head. "I'm parked over here."
"And we're over there. I'll meet you at his car. I guess we just follow the swearing."
Danny was first to Walter and Tyrone and the car with the open trunk. Tyrone's fingers were wrapped round the metalwork and impressively, he was heaving the saloon an inch or two off the ground. Walter was trying to loosen the nuts on the back wheel with a wrench that kept slipping.
"Here," Danny smiled. "Try this."
"Oh, mate! You are a top bloke! Bonzer!"
Now that was surely a chimp in a Ronald Reagan movie but Walter was beaming at him and taking the jack from his hands and so Danny didn't feel he was truly being insulted.
"I got tow rope and tape. I got the wheel wrench and the tyre gauge. Just not the bloody jack."
The jack from Danny's car in place, Tyrone made short work of the wheel nuts and the new tyre was being slipped on to the wheel as Rusty hove into view.
"Finally," Danny called over as he walked towards the car. "We're nearly through here."
"We?" Rusty looked sceptical. "You been supervising again?"
Danny grinned and then convergence happened. Walter walked round the back of the car and Rusty walked down the side and the smiles froze.
"You..."
There was no need for words: there was never need for words. Even as his brain was screaming details at him about the con from six years ago, even as instinct started to make his body move, even as his hand was reaching out for Danny's arm, Danny already understood and Danny was backing away.
"You-you thieving bastard!" Walter Prendergast exclaimed with feeling.
Deep-rooted intuition made him spin on his heel and he was still holding the jack from his car but before he could even think of using it, there was a flash of silver.
And then there was pain and the world went black.
His senses were busy feeding him with simultaneous information. (He was not alone). There was movement underneath him. There was a dull roar that washed up and over his ears. (He was never alone). The air was warm and stuffy. There was a smell of something that seemed mechanical in nature. (He was not alone and it wasn't frightening). There was the taste of blood in his mouth and something foreign was stuck tight over his lips... There was a small elephant dancing in his skull. Make that a large elephant. (He was not alone and it wasn't frightening because the somebody was familiar.) He was lying on his side and his hands were tied in front of him and he automatically and imperceptibly checked for give in the ropes, finding none. (He was lying against Danny.)
And then, and only then, after the second or so of sensory information, he opened his eyes a fraction. Blackness. His eyes opened wide and either he had gone blind or... His mind and his memory processed what it had been told. The car. Walter Prendergast. Danny... And now... Trunk of the car. Tied up and tossed in the trunk and he doubted Walter was taking them off to a frat party. His fingers found the tape over his mouth and pulled it free with a sharp movement. No time to ease it off like a Band-Aid.
"Danny?"
There was an answering dig of a chin in his shoulder and with immense difficulty in the tight space, he manoeuvred himself to face Danny in the darkness. He pulled the tape off Danny's mouth and heard the grunt and then the heavy breathing as Danny drew in shallow little pants of air.
"Did you call me last week? I recognise the voice."
There was a chuckle and then he could see Danny's face even though he couldn't.
"How's your head?"
"Still attached. What...?"
"Wrench. He was aiming for the back of your skull."
He'd seen Walter's reaction first, the recognition and the fury, and he'd sensed Rusty's stillness and he knew this was something to have a bad feeling about. He could feel Rusty's unspoken warning, urging flight and he was already backing away but they were trapped between cars and they needed to move. He felt Rusty turn and he snapped his own head round in time to see Tyrone bring down the wrench. It didn't connect where Tyrone intended. It glanced off Rusty's right temple and thank God because there was sufficient force in the blow to crush and fracture. It didn't stop Rusty dropping like a stone.
His hands were out immediately to catch him before he hit the deck. Dead weight in his arms and there was blood and he could see white bone beneath the flaps of flesh that lay open and bleeding. Stitches. Rusty needed stitches. He looked up at Tyrone in front of him and then Walter's hand was clapping him on the shoulder.
"Sorry, mate." And there was genuine regret. "You need to choose your friends more carefully. Now just drop him on the ground and look at me."
Just drop him? Danny was smiling mirthlessly at the thought.
"I said drop him." Walter was fiercer and Tyrone smacked the wrench into the palm of his hand menacingly and it really wouldn't do for them both to be unconscious. Danny carefully lay Rusty down on the asphalt and straightened back up.
"Stephen, you got a choice here. 'Cos I like ya. And I know you were just trying to be neighbourly. Don't know where you know this blighter from and I don't know what he means to ya. But you can look me in the eyes and you tell me you didn't see a thing and you walk away now."
Danny heard Rusty arguing. Do it. Pointless both of us... And when that didn't work (was never going to work), Tess... And Danny hesitated just for a guilty nanosecond on that one. And then he stuck his chin out in defiance and Walter had his answer.
"Pity. Alright, Tyrone, he comes with."
His hands were tied behind his back and tape was fastened over his mouth and he was made to climb awkwardly into the trunk and lay on his side. There was limited room even with his knees bent. And then Tyrone was holding Rusty up, his arms round Rusty's chest, Rusty's head lolling on his shoulders.
"Wait!" Walter drew back his fist and punched Rusty hard on the mouth, rocking Rusty's head back and drawing blood. Danny snarled impotently at the action. "Been waiting to do that for six years."
Rusty was thrown into the trunk alongside him, squashed up alongside him, so that their bodies spooned together and Tyrone pulled Rusty's wrists together and used the rope and taped his mouth.
"Put the tools on the back seat," Walter instructed and Tyrone disappeared from view no doubt to do just that.
"I've been wanting to catch up with this no-mark for so bloody long." There was real satisfaction in Walter's voice and Danny wished he knew the story. "I'm looking forward to explaining to him how much I've wanted to find him."
Then the trunk was slammed shut and after a pause, doors were opened and closed and the car pulled away.
Danny's mouth worked against the tape, rubbing up against Rusty's shoulder, but it wasn't coming off. His fingers worked furiously at the knots binding him but they were too damn tight. And as he lay and struggled futilely and felt the jerky stop/start of a car moving through traffic, even as Rusty's body rocked with his and the motion of the car, he took comfort from the nearness of Rusty whilst at the same time wishing he was a thousand miles distant.
"What we got?" Rusty asked.
"Didn't search us. Too eager to get on the road. Inside right."
There was no room. There really wasn't room and there was dark and there was no air and there was sweat but none of these were factors that were going to stop Rusty. His fingers forced their way over silk and good tailoring and delved into Danny's jacket pocket and pulled out the small metal tool. He freed the blade and angled it over his own bonds.
"So tell me," Danny said as Rusty worked.
"Six years ago. Saint Paul. Art exhibition."
"What is he? Art groupie?"
"Yeah. Walter likes to invest in art."
"What did you do?"
There was an unseen shrug. "Sold him some. Ah!"
He pulled his hands free and immediately reached round Danny's waist, forcing his arm under Danny's body, so that he could work on the rope around Danny's wrists.
"You know this is why we have a reputation," Danny murmured to the top of Rusty's head.
There was a chuckle. "Face it, without me, you wouldn't have half as much fun."
"Oh, without you, life would definitely be duller. So what did you sell him? Ow!"
"Sorry. Shoebox."
"How much?"
"Hundred thousand."
"Uh huh." Amused and unsurprised.
"It was painted blue," Rusty said as if that explained everything. "There you go," he added, pulling back.
And Danny's hands were free and moving to his inside left to produce a pencil flashlight. Rusty blinked at the sudden light and Danny's fingers ran down through the blood on his cheek.
"You still haven't learned to duck."
"Guess if I haven't now, I never will. You reckon we're still in town?"
"Yeah. And we gotta move because-"
"- yeah."
Out of town would be bad. Could be final. He felt Rusty pull the flashlight from him and swivel round to focus on the lock.
"No tools," Danny said.
"There wouldn't be. Can you shift down a bit?"
"No."
"Try."
Danny was already attempting to compress limbs into space outlined by rigid and unforgiving metal. It wasn't happening.
"Try harder," Rusty suggested.
"I am not bendy enough. How about if I-"
"-oh, you are just adding to that reputation."
"Funny. You got enough room now?"
"No." But lying on his stomach, Rusty was already hacking at the thick lining of the boot with the blade, slicing through the material, down to the very metal so that he could trace the cable that travelled from the driver's seat to the trunk lock.
"Hurry," Danny advised, his mouth somewhere near Rusty's right ear.
"You're supervising again. I'm sure I've told you about that." Rusty's fingers were on the cable. "Get ready. Next stop."
Obligingly, the car halted almost immediately and Rusty sprang the lock. Danny caught the edge of the metal and lifted it up, breathing cooler air and peering out. Outskirts of town. Traffic lights. Cars arriving and surrounding them. A crowd of vehicles. Good. He held the opening wide enough for Rusty to slip out from under him and through and then clambered out himself, crouching down behind the back of the saloon. Gently, he clicked the trunk shut and then the pair of them ducked and weaved through the traffic to find the sidewalk and shadows and sanctuary.
They stood and watched Walter and Tyrone drive off, unaware that vengeance would not be theirs. They looked at one another and grinned. Another story to tell about the ones that got away.
"Hospital, Rus."
"Sandrini's, Danny."
"Oh…" Danny dug out his phone and winced at the number of missed calls. "Damn."
"Tell her you got talking to Walter and got carried away."
"You're not funny."
Danny's face grew serious.
What is it?
"Six years ago."
"Oh." Rusty paused and then gave a half-shrug and said lightly, "Well, you weren't around."
"No."
And the hurt of the separation hung between them.
"But you are now."
"Yes."
Let's try and keep it that way.
Alright.
Danny's eyes were drawn again to the wound on Rusty's forehead. The bleeding had stopped but it still needed attention.
Rusty sighed. "You're not going to take no for an answer, are you?"
"You're not going to get away with a plaster and a pain-killer."
"What are you going to tell Tess?" Rusty changed the subject.
"What are we going to tell Tess?"
They pondered for a long moment.
"How about we ended up in a saloon?"
Danny just looked at him.
"It's the truth," Rusty pointed out.
Danny shook his head, stuck his hand out and summoned a taxi.
"Westland General," he said to the driver and pushed a reluctant but resigned Rusty into the back of the cab.
Cars and buildings ran rhythmically past the cab windows and they leaned shoulder to shoulder and watched the ordinary flow round them.
"Does he know your name?" Rusty said suddenly. "Because if so, you'll have to move. He's the sort to come looking."
Danny pulled a face. "I was having such a good time in Vermont."
"In fact, move and change your name," Rusty said and he was very much not joking. He glanced at Danny. "Just to be safe."
Danny nodded and there was a thoughtful silence. "I think Mr and Mrs Miguel Diaz will like Connecticut."
Miguel Diaz?
"Basketball coach."
"High school?" Rusty suggested.
"Retired."
There was another short silence.
"Can I be there when you tell Mrs Diaz?"
"Somehow I think you're going to be whether I want you to or not." Danny stared down at the phone again, sighed and made the call.
"Danny? Danny! Where are you?" Tess was frantic. "I waited and waited and then I went out and your car was there and you weren't and where are you? Are you safe? Is Rusty with you? Is he-"
"Tess, Tess. We're fine," Danny soothed. "We're absolutely fine. We're just running a little late."
"What happened?" Tess was no nonsense and angry now that she knew they were safe.
Rusty leaned in to the phone. "Turns out the guy with the car was someone I knew, Tess. Wanted to renew acquaintances and wouldn't take no for an answer. We've only just managed to get away. It's my fault."
He looked at Danny.
It was my fault.
It should have been our fault.
"Where are you, Tess?"
"Back home, Danny." There was sulk at the other end of the phone.
"OK. We're a little way away." And that was a conservative estimate. "We'll see you later. You want to fix yourself a sandwich or something-"
"-and we'll bring the crème brûlée."
Danny ended the call with love and reassurance and patient pacification and turned to Rusty.
"Crème brûlée?"
"I was looking forward to it," Rusty said. "If I don't get it, it'll be a bit of a-"
No!
"-wrench." Rusty grinned.
There was a small groan and then Danny was contemplative.
"Anyone else I need to know about? Anything else I missed?"
Rusty looked at him for a long moment and then said carefully. "No other mark. And nothing that matters now." He smiled gently. "Now is all that matters."
And Danny smiled agreement as the bright lights flashed by.
A/N: A little "Burn After Reading" movie reference. A little pinching of a delicious sounding dessert from someone's projected menu for the week. And a big apology if you're Australian and reading this. I am almost certain I haven't captured the rhythms of speech correctly. Sorry.
