Identity by InSilva
Disclaimer: own no one you'll recognise in here. Hands up who's surprised?
Summary: When it comes to getting the special person in your life a Christmas present to remember, there can be some competition. Set post-O11, pre-O12. One-shot.
A/N: a huuuuuuuuuge Merry Christmas to everyone! Hope you all have a wonderful holiday and thank you for reading and all your support throughout the year. :)
For you, mate. Always, always, always.
And third Christmas in this fandom? Here's to July never arriving. :)
Everything was running like clockwork. Very precise clockwork. The sort that aligned itself with some sort of silent signal. Something like that Swiss clock Rusty had read about that had an uncertainty of one second in 30 million years. As he headed back towards the French windows, moving through the party throng, nodding and smiling at complete strangers, Rusty felt the thrum of adrenaline that told him the job was as good as done. No hold ups, no hiccups, Turk and Virgil and Basher and Livingston all putting in their usual sterling performances... And now, he was on the verge of tasting fresh air. He just had to negotiate the man on the door who effortlessly answered to the description of big and ugly and then he was home and dry.
All of which meant that when Big and Ugly did a double take and then grabbed him and bundled him through a side-door into a study, it came as something of a surprise.
So much for atomic clocks.
The other side of the empty study, the Christmas party was in full swing. Rusty stared up at the muscle who had to be working security for Caruso. He had absolutely no clue what had given him away. Shit, nothing could have given him away.
"What's the problem?" he beamed, blinking and swaying just a little to indicate that he was nothing more than a bemused party guest.
"Don't know how you got out and I don't much care," Big and Ugly said.
"Got out of where?" asked Rusty, genuinely puzzled. As far as he knew, they'd never laid eyes on each other.
Big and Ugly smiled nastily. "You've got a bad memory."
And that was something Rusty had never been told.
"Maybe some sort of mistaken identity," he suggested charmingly.
"Maybe not." Big and Ugly wasn't having any of it.
The punch to the side of his head was telegraphed and Rusty blocked it but the follow up to the gut had him winded and the third blow to the back of the head sent him sailing into unconsciousness with the fast-fading thought that for once, he really didn't know what the hell this was about.
Coming to was painful. Rusty blinked his way back up into consciousness and eased himself up off the carpet, his hands securely fastened behind his back with plastic tie restraints. Rope was surely more eco-friendly. He guessed the green movement hadn't fully reached the criminal fraternity yet.
"You OK? I mean all things considered."
Rusty squinted. As far as his aching head could make out, the man sitting up against the wall opposite was sun-streaked blond, blue-eyed and wearing black tie and an amused expression.
"Terrific," he said more brightly than he felt, sitting upright also. "Plastic bracelets. Just what I wanted for Christmas."
The stranger held up his own hands, bound in front of him. "Must be setting a trend."
Rusty looked at him more closely. American, about his age, about his build, good-looking… Huh.
"Don't worry," the other man was saying, his voice reassuring in a way that reminded him of Danny. "Muscles thought I'd got free. He was very wide-eyed when he saw me still sitting here but that didn't stop him dropping you down and trussing you up."
Like a Christmas turkey. There was no give in his bonds at all.
"It'll be OK," his co-prisoner continued. "As I think we've established, the guy's none too bright. He's gone off to find his boss."
Caruso. Fabulous. The little metal tube in his breast pocket was suddenly glowing white-hot with significance.
"Look…"
The other man was hesitating, debating… Blue eyes were gimlet-sharp on his, demanding reassurances and Rusty couldn't begin to tell for what. He must have passed the unspoken test though because the guy was speaking again.
"I got caught somewhere I shouldn't have been-"
"You a thief?" Rusty asked softly, instinctively.
The man smiled and didn't confirm or deny it.
"Actually, I'm still possibly a party guest that's strayed. Figure there'll be a few questions but it's easier to stay put and let them be asked. Like I said, you'll be OK. They won't want trouble."
Mmm. Problem with that. And actually, even though Rusty felt certain he knew the answer, he had to check what the guy was going for.
"And what would the trouble be over?"
There was another piercing blue stare and then a sigh. "There's a painting. And there's a girl. She likes the painting. And our host, Mr Caruso, has a-"
"-sketch of the painting."
The Cardsharp. Georges de La Tour. The sketch had belonged to a late millionaire who had bequeathed it to a national museum. Somewhere along the line, the sketch had gone missing and had reappeared in the possession of his lawyer, Caruso.
"Yeah…" Long and drawn out and accompanied by a slow-growing smile that was all about appreciating he was not the only one with the information.
"Yeah." Urgent. Intense. And that was all about the fact that it wasn't just the information Rusty possessed.
The man straightened up and all the amusement had fallen away from his face. "We'd better move."
"Big and Ugly didn't search me," Rusty stated and he knelt up. "Inside left pocket."
Deft fingers reached into the tuxedo and closed around the metal tool. Then the blade was freed and the guy was slicing through his own bonds.
"Turn round," the guy instructed and Rusty was already shuffling into position.
"So. You got a girl you want to impress too?" came the comment as the plastic was cut away.
"The girl's a guy." Rusty reclaimed the tool and stood up, offering his hand to help him up. "And it's less about the impressing, more about reminding."
"Sounds like a story."
Rusty busied himself with the lock on the door. "Long one."
The door sprang open and they moved down the corridor, taking point without having to check with each other, working together smoothly and naturally. Footsteps and they ducked into an alcove, pressed together in the shadows, waiting for the coast to clear.
"Guy with someone else?"
The words were breathed into Rusty's ear and he was suddenly thrown back to a hundred other jobs and a hundred other conversations that just had to be conducted right in the middle of them.
"Married."
Let him make of that what he will.
"Mmm."
Non-committal. Non-judgmental. Rusty felt the need to explain a little further. He snatched a quick look at a couple of henchpeople talking a few yards away and figured they had a few moments.
"We worked together. Now, he's pretty much retired. And…" And Danny had tried that before. None too successfully. "And I wanted to let him know that it's OK. That I'll be here whatever, whenever he needs me to be."
"He sounds a special guy."
More than anyone could imagine.
The henchpeople moved on and they moved a little further towards freedom before needing to dive into another alcove.
"You want to tell me about the girl?" Rusty murmured.
He didn't need to see the man's face to see the smile.
"She's amazing. You ever find someone who turns your world upside down? Someone you're not expecting in the slightest?"
Danny.
The man went on, "Someone society's never going to make it easy to be with. Someone you can't see how you can be with. Someone you can't imagine being without."
Isabel. Oh, God, Isabel. It was a good job there were shadows.
"Thing is, she knows how it is. She knows how I feel and she knows why I do what I do. I can't be with her but I want her to know I'm always going to be thinking about her-"
Rusty's hand on his arm silenced him. More henchpeople. Getting closer...getting closer... Then there was an almighty bang and commotion and they were both off and running in the exact opposite direction to the noise, not stopping this time till they were out of the door at the back of the house.
Rusty almost collided with someone on the patio.
"Dude, are you a sight for sore eyes!" Turk sounded delighted.
"Bash busy putting on a little diversion out front?" Rusty guessed as they moved speedily towards the boundary fence.
"Blowing up the fake reindeer on the lawn."
"He'd enjoy that."
Turk seemed to take in the stranger for the first time. Right. Introductions. Rusty just knew blue eyes were smiling at him.
"Zal, right?" Turk said unexpectedly. "I'm Turk."
"Good to meet you, Turk."
Wait, wait, wait. Rusty opened his mouth to ask the question but Zal got in first.
"Something tells me you've bumped into my friends."
"Jerome and Leo?" Absently, Turk rubbed his jaw. "Yeah…but then Livingston recognised Karl from Computer University or somewhere and we realised we're all on the same side."
"Zal!"
Rusty blinked. A midget was waiting the other side of the fence in which a hole had been neatly cut.
"Hey, Karl."
Warmth and relief in both their voices and it wasn't like that was unfamiliar territory to Rusty.
They squeezed through the fence and all of them piled into the back of the waiting van, Virgil behind the wheel, another man – Jerome? Leo? – beside him. Turk and Karl yanked the door closed and the van squealed away.
"Livingston's locked down security," Turk supplied.
"Jerome's helping explode Rudolph and his friends," Karl announced.
That made it Leo up front with Virgil.
"We get what we came for?" Karl asked suddenly.
Zal's smile blazed across his face like a comet. "Job's off." He turned to Rusty.
"Zal Innez."
"Rusty Ryan."
"Good to meet you."
"Likewise."
Afterwards, and they'd met up with the others and exchanged numbers and then gone their separate ways. It had been an eventful evening and even if he hadn't actually secured Angelique's Christmas present, he had at least met a new friend. Rusty Ryan, who in a very short space of time had shown himself to be fearless, incisive, intuitive, talented and all about the friendship. He liked him.
Zal shut the door to his hotel room and shrugged off his jacket, dropping it onto the table. There was an unexpected thunk. Frowning, Zal checked inside and pulled out a short metal tube, about the size of a cigar. He unscrewed the end and pulled out centurys old parchment with charcoal markings.
A present from Rusty.
Zal fished out his phone and found a text waiting.
"Impress her for the both of us."
Angelique would have to give it up, of course - wouldn't do for a law enforcement agent to actually keep a stolen piece of art - but it would at least find its way to the museum. And it would be hers for a moment. For a little moment in time, she would own it. He wished he could be there when she opened it. Wished he could see the furtive thrill run through her. Wished…
Zal sighed. Wishing and hoping and praying. Someone should write a song about it.
"You *are* very impressive. Not going to introduce you to her."
Rusty read the answering text and smiled to himself then looked up and out of the train window at the lightly falling snow. December. Seven months after they'd robbed Terry Benedict.
Danny and Tess had remarried after six in a quiet little service in Tuscany. Rusty had been the only witness and he'd sat and watched them, happiness and love rippling through them, both of them so conscious of lost time and both of them so determined that this time it was going to work.
And that was fine and good but Rusty had been there before. Last time, Danny had tried to be something he couldn't, he'd found he couldn't. Danny had gone it alone and it had ended with separation and isolation and incarceration. This time, Rusty was going to make sure Danny got the message that when he needed to scratch that itch, all he needed to do was talk to Rusty.
But talking with Zal had had two results. And only one of them was that he wanted Zal to get the girl.
"Delivery for the occupier!"
Danny opened the door and found Rusty, grinning on his doorstep.
"Special delivery," Danny smiled.
"First-class," Rusty corrected, stepping into the house.
"You invited yourself for Christmas?" Danny asked and he kept it light and pushed the hope and anticipation way, way below the surface.
"Maybe."
The maybe was about Tess. Tess was always about the maybe. But that was before jail. That was before Vegas. That was before three to six months later. Now…now, she understood so much more…
Rusty gave an easy shrug. "Why don't we just start with the 23rd of December?"
They needn't have worried. Tess hadn't objected to having Rusty as an unexpected house-guest. In fact, Tess's face had actually lit up and she'd insisted he be there as long as he wanted - and that was surely a sign of how far they'd come. Danny looked like all his Christmases had arrived wrapped up in a big silver bow.
"I posted your present," Danny told him after dinner, over whisky. "I can tell you what it is, if you like."
"Nah." Rusty stretched out comfortably in the easy chair. "I like surprises."
Except… He turned his head anxiously in Danny's direction.
"There was chocolate," Danny smiled.
Good. Good.
"Lots of chocolate," Tess murmured, sipping her whisky, curled up next to Danny on the couch.
Good.
"I changed my mind over your present," Rusty volunteered.
Oh?
"Yeah. Decided what I was going to get for you was completely unnecessary."
Rusty looked at Danny and Tess, so happy together, so happy to share that happiness. Danny knew who he was and so did Tess. She knew how Danny felt – hell, he'd robbed three casinos to show her how he felt – and she knew what made Danny Danny. She wasn't going to give her blessing for Danny leading a life of crime but this time round, she wasn't going to hand out ultimatums either. History wasn't going to repeat itself.
He'd called it right.
A/N: Zal, Angelique, Karl, Jerome and Leo are characters in Christopher Brookmyre's wonderful novel "The Sacred Art of Stealing".
Hope you enjoyed. :)