Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Ocean's 11. But then, we all know that by now.
A/N: First chapter of a new story. And more of a prologue, than a chapter. It's very short, basically, and I apologise for that, but I liked the ending line too much to let it go, and I'm going to update this one every Monday morning until it's done. It's my Monday story.
A/N2: For InSilva. Who still doesn't know the answer to the question but is being very, very patient. Relatively speaking.
A/N3: Set in 'The More Things Change' verse. Though am unsure how much this matters.
Saul got in at a little after midnight, tripping neatly over the pile of newspapers and junk mail and bills that had piled up in the hall. He sighed; one of these days he was going to remember to stop the papers before he went away. Tomorrow's problem. Definitely tomorrow's problem. He'd been in Dallas this morning and Tulsa the evening before that and right now all he wanted was to get a good night's sleep.
He must have slept for nearly nine hours. And, when he woke up and headed through into the living room, he saw there was another paper and even more junk mail stacked up in the hall. That was just terrific.
He glanced through it quickly. Couple of bills, couple of free catalogues, one of those envelopes for some public safety campaign - 'Do you know where your children are?' it asked and he wondered what they'd say if he wrote back and pointed out he didn't have any - and a letter proclaiming him to be the potential lucky winner of fifty thousand dollars. Definitely junk. He dropped the lot on the counter.
Coffee and a bagel and today's paper and he gazed at the news and idly wondered what he was going to do with the rest of the week. No major plans. Nothing that was demanding his urgent attention. And after everything with Graham this past week, he could really use some downtime. He smiled; he could check in with the boys tomorrow afternoon. Make sure that they hadn't been getting in too much trouble. There was something to look forward to.
Difficult to believe that he'd only known them two years; they were just such an important part of his life now. He thought of the last time he'd seen them, ten days ago, at the close of the Ashworth job, Rusty, smiling and happy, practically glowing, his bow tie hanging loose around his neck, his pocket full of pearls, holding the slice of cheesecake that Saul had picked up for him, while Danny stood at his shoulder, amused and affectionate and indulgent.
The job had gone smoothly, and it had been Danny's idea, not his. Danny's wild, fantastic soaring idea, and Rusty had been the one to make it work, finding the impossible information, filling in the details that brought the idea to life. Saul had just been along for the ride. Enjoying every second of it. Suffused with a pride that he'd never felt before two years ago.
He couldn't imagine giving that feeling up for anything.
He smiled again; maybe he'd go see them today instead.
Idly, he glanced again at the pile of mail and frowned. Something had caught his eye. Something that had stood out as being wrong.
He sorted through the mail again, carefully this time, discarding the bills and the magazines. He paused at the public safety envelope. It was thicker than he'd expect from that sort of thing. As if there was a lot in it. But that wasn't what he'd noticed.
There was a thumbprint stained on the back of the envelope, sealing it down. It looked like it had been made in blood.
He took a deep breath. If this was a marketing campaign, it really was going the extra mile. If this was a marketing campaign, they could have his money.
With trembling hands he gently pulled the envelope open. A small pile of photographs fell out.
Rusty and Danny eating dinner together in the Italian restaurant on the corner.
Rusty and Danny standing on the steps of their apartment building, laughing and in the middle of conversation.
Rusty and Danny playing poker in the backroom of some bar somewhere.
Danny, sitting with a girl in a coffee shop.
Rusty, sleeping in bed.
The words on the envelope screamed up at him. "Do you know where your children are?"