O, Tannenbaum by InSilva
Disclaimer: did not create Ocean's 11.
Summary: Christmastime: Danny and Rusty's motto is always expect the unexpected. One-shot.
A/N: so excited by news that Mr Soderbergh is considering making a "Man From Uncle" film. Even more excited by fact that Mr Clooney is considering playing Napoleon Solo. Now they just need to find the right Illya. Hmm…
A/N: for otherhawk. A very, very Merry Christmas, mate! Hope this was close to what you were hoping for. :)
"You know there are downsides to being impulsive," Danny suggested, hands tight on the wheel, eyes on the road as the wipers did absolutely nothing to handle the snow.
"You mean the whole need for a quick getaway?"
"In a blizzard."
"Through the countryside."
"Through the German countryside."
"From a chateau."
"From a Schloss."
"Schloss? You sure?"
"You asking?"
Danny considered. "No."
Rusty grinned. "Worth it though."
He looked down at the carefully wrapped bundle on his lap and shook free the twelve inch golden Christmas tree with the diamond star on top and the rubies and emeralds embedded in the filigree branches like baubles.
It had belonged to Georg Gruber.
They'd gatecrashed Georg's pre-Christmas party out of boredom and discovered Lebkuchen and Stollen and chocolate logs filled with truffle and marzipan, all of which Rusty had highly approved.
Like Danny, he had been less approving of Georg Gruber himself.
They watched their host deliver crushing put-down after crushing put-down to other guests but that just demonstrated Georg was an obnoxious boor. Then out in the corridor, there'd been a maid who'd had the temerity to spill a tray of champagne glasses. Georg had slapped her. Hard. Obnoxious boor who was violent towards someone who couldn't answer back equalled bastard equalled prime mark.
"We need to do something," Danny had murmured.
"Uh huh."
And that was that. A small diversion involving vodka, an open fire and somewhat less than flame-retardant tinsel and then smoothly, silently, they had moved through the house and found the room that was locked – till Danny opened it – and the display cabinet which was alarmed – until Rusty disabled it.
The little Christmas tree had been both their first choice.
A swift exit and an even swifter disappearing act and Danny had been driving for a good ten minutes before the snow had descended. That had been a while ago now and he was slightly concerned that he might have been driving round in one big circle. Not that he was admitting that to Rusty.
"You know the problem?" he said instead.
"Yeah," Rusty agreed.
The tree was instantly recognisable. Fencing it was not going to be easy.
"We could melt it down," Danny suggested.
"Yeah…" Rusty agreed and there was regret in his voice.
Yeah. It could have been ugly. It could have been ostentatious and tacky and vile but in fact, there was skill and beauty in the working. Someone had lovingly created this and breaking it up would be an insult to the artist.
"It's-"
"-sparkly."
Danny risked a glance in Rusty's direction. "Not the word I was going for."
Rusty wrapped the tree up carefully again and zipped it up in his holdall, swaddled in towels and clothing.
"We can always give it away," Rusty suggested. "Or keep it."
And that was certainly a thought. After all, this was more about depriving Georg than making a-
"Where are we?" Rusty frowned.
Damn... Danny grimaced and peered through the windscreen. Somewhere white. He felt the look from the passenger seat.
"Sweden?" he hazarded.
"We started the day in Bavaria," Rusty pointed out. "I'm getting you an atlas for Christmas."
"You've got one day to buy it. And I don't need an atlas. I've got you." Danny squinted again through the snow. "Are you sure it's not Sweden?"
"Feel certain there'd be more elk."
"Maybe the elk are hiding."
"Concealed elk? Like crouching tigers and hidden dragons?"
"Could happen."
"You think they're going to jump out and shout 'Surpri-'?"
And that was when the deer appeared in front of the car. That was when Danny wrenched the wheel to avoid the deer. That was when the car skidded off the road. And that was when everything went black.
His eyes fluttered open as he blinked back into consciousness and three things hit him simultaneously.
The left side of his head ached.
He was lying in a bed.
No Danny.
Rusty sat up immediately, ignoring his body's suggestion that that wasn't too wise a move. Someone – woman, white clothes, nurse? – came from nowhere with unintelligible words of soothe and comfort.
"Danny…" He twisted round and shook the woman's hand off his shoulder. "Where…?"
"Dein Freund-"
"Danny!"
No sign. There'd been the car and the crash and no Danny, no Danny…
The woman said something again and part of Rusty's brain engaged.
"My friend. Yes, my friend." He clutched her hand. "Where is he?"
She spoke again and her voice was calm and gentle and her words were the best reassurance he could have heard.
"Your friend is fine. Er schläft."
"He's sleeping?"
"Ja," she smiled. "Yes."
"May I see him? Please?"
"You should rest," she advised and really, that was not happening.
"I need to see him," Rusty said, clearly, insistently, his eyes telling her no was simply not an option.
He came to and gave it a moment before he opened his eyes. Whatever they'd been drinking, it had put him out for the count. His head and body ached, especially and peculiarly his ribs. Worse than taking a pounding from Tam Kelly's…
Car crash!
Rusty!
Danny's eyes shot open and started to sit up.
"Hey, hey."
Rusty.
Rusty's hand covered his and Danny relaxed.
He was lying in a room in a bed and there was a screen pushed to one side with another bed behind it. Rusty was sitting in a chair beside him wearing… Danny's brain struggled with the image.
"I didn't know Jackson Pollock did pyjamas."
There was no comeback, just a pointed look at what Danny was wearing. Danny glanced down at the purple and yellow Paisley pattern.
Ouch.
"Yeah."
He looked up at the dressing on Rusty's left temple and his lips tightened.
"It's OK." Quick and reassuring. "Just a shallow wound. They say you're alright."
There was a question in there.
"Someone's been using my ribs as a xylophone. Apart from that…"
The door opened and a nurse came in. Well, a nun. A nun-nurse. There was definitely a wimple and a habit and an apron over the top and a smile.
"You are feeling better, yes?" German-flavoured English.
Danny nodded and the nun-nurse checked his temperature and checked his pulse.
"You are doing well." Her glance fell on Rusty. "You are both doing well. I will let Sister Catherine know."
She stepped out of the room and Danny gave it a moment.
"We're in a…"
"Convent."
"…nunnery."
Rusty grinned and Danny ignored him.
"It's all a bit Sound of Music."
"Trying to figure out which of us is Julie Andrews."
Danny looked at him thoughtfully. "You've got the colouring."
Rusty nodded at Danny's pyjamas. "You've got the curtains."
"So do we know how we got here?"
Rusty smiled. "Your innate lack of direction."
Danny scowled. "Here here."
Ah…
"Car skidded into a ditch that runs alongside the grounds. Local guy found us and brought us here because this doubles as the village infirmary. Local guy also towed our car out of the ditch. It's a bit dented but it survived. So did the deer, by the way. So did we."
Light and casual and not too far away from the surface, there was relief.
Danny smiled. "This where you say something sentimental?"
"This is where I tell you there's a reason why I always drive."
There was a snort.
"Like you could have dealt any better with a games-playing elk."
The grin on Rusty's face grew wider. "And that's exactly the story Saul's going to hear, isn't it?"
The door opened again and the nun-nurse reappeared with a senior nun-nurse. Presumably, this was-
"I am Sister Catherine." In her fifties. Pleasant. A no-nonsense nun-nurse. "You are at the Convent of Saint John and Sister Anna tells me that you are recovering nicely from your car accident."
"Thank you," Danny smiled. "Thank you for helping us."
"Of course," Sister Catherine smiled back. "And you are both welcome, Mr…?"
She was waiting for names. Rusty's eyes flickered over towards him and Danny gave a half-shrug. If you couldn't trust nuns…
"Danny Ocean."
"Rusty Ryan."
"Please call us Danny and Rusty, Sister."
"Danny. Rusty. A pleasure to meet you. You need to rest now but I will see you again in the morning. Sleep well."
"Goodnight, Sister," they chorused and the nuns left, dimming the lights as they went.
"On our own again."
"Naturally."
"Go lie down," Danny instructed sternly.
"Going. Lying." Rusty obliged, returning to his bed.
A thought occurred.
"Rus, where are-"
"Holdalls are at the foot of the beds. They haven't been touched."
"Right…and-"
"Convent is miles away from Georg."
"Right."
They were safe and relatively sound and together. Tiredness finally overwhelmed him and he didn't fight it.
Morning came and Danny opened bleary eyes to see Rusty nearly dressed.
"You feeling better or did you just want out of those pyjamas?"
"Using my time wisely till breakfast arrives." Rusty tucked his shirt into his pants. "How are you doing?"
"OK."
He was. The ache was still there but it was fading. Body-slamming in a car was one extreme sport he could live without but in the scheme of things it wasn't too painful.
He squinted at Rusty. "How's the head?"
"Fine. Wanted to take the dressing off but I'm worried I might get into trouble with Sister Catherine."
"Huh. So to get you to listen to me in the future-"
"-you should dress up like a nun."
Danny's rejoinder was cut short by the arrival of Sisters Catherine and Anna carrying two trays of buttered toast and orange juice.
"It looks like you are both mended well," Sister Catherine beamed as Rusty took one of the trays from her while Sister Anna handed over breakfast to Danny. "This is good. You slept like…" She frowned. "I want to say dead trees."
"Like a log," Danny smiled. "And yes, we did."
"Please to sit down on the bed," Sister Catherine suggested and Rusty at once obeyed. Danny made a mental note to tease him later.
Gently, Sister Catherine peeled back the dressing.
"It's coming along so nicely I can leave this open to the air. I'm very pleased with you, Rusty. You are a natural healer."
A well-hidden smirk answered by an equally well-hidden grimace at memories of times of pain.
Sister Anna pulled back the curtains and looked up at the sky and commented in German. Both Sister Catherine and Rusty smiled and nodded.
"Snow again for Christmas Eve," Rusty said for Danny's benefit.
"Chance of a white Christmas, then."
"Every chance," Sister Catherine agreed with a smile. "Well. We will leave you to breakfast." And she and Sister Anna withdrew.
"So." Danny picked up a slice of toast. "Where do you think I'm going to find a habit that fits?"
Rusty choked on a mouthful of orange juice. When he'd recovered, he managed, "Not certain whether to be worried that you're asking or that you're asking me."
Danny grinned and bit into the toast.
Sister Catherine was sitting in her office, head bent over the notes she was writing up when there was a polite knock at the open door.
"Come in, Danny and Rusty," she said and then looked up and smiled at their expressions.
They glanced at each other and there was that thing again where they were talking without words. She'd seen it last night and this morning. It was intriguing.
"We've very grateful for all your help and kindness, Sister Catherine," Rusty began.
"But we won't trespass any longer on your hospitality."
Sister Catherine nodded thoughtfully. "There is no rush, gentlemen, but we would not wish to hold your travels up."
The phone rang and she gave an apologetic smile as she answered it.
Danny listened to Sister Catherine's conversation and there wasn't much in her voice to pick up on but Danny could hear the faintest echoes of disappointment and frustration and annoyance. He guessed even nuns were entitled.
When she hung up, Sister Catherine was all poise and politeness again. Danny asked the question.
"Everything alright, Sister Catherine?"
For a moment, she looked like she wasn't going to answer him. Or rather, that she was going to brush off his concern. But his voice had been concerned. Genuine interest. And she surely wasn't going to ignore that.
"It is nothing. Our heating system is not working properly and the man who will fix it is not able to help till the New Year. We will manage."
Rusty was offering before she'd finished speaking. "Maybe I could take a look, Sister."
"Are you a plumber, Rusty?"
"I'm practical," he replied. "Please. Let me take a look."
Soft and every bit as compelling as ever.
Sister Anna was duly summoned and instructed to show Rusty where the boiler was located.
"Danny, would you like some tea while we wait?" Sister Catherine asked as Rusty and Sister Anna were walking out of the room.
Tea?
Maybe with biscuits.
Danny ignored the look. "Thank you, Sister."
She poured two cups and passed him one. He felt her gaze on him as he added milk and stirred.
"You are not a practical man?"
"Not as much as Rusty is," he said truthfully. Few were.
"You smile when you say his name," she said and that was unexpected. "In your voice, I mean. You care for him greatly, I think."
There was no hidden meaning in there and Danny found himself nodding.
"We've known each other a long time and we're very good friends."
"Friendship is important. It is one of the cornerstones of Christianity, after all. John 15."
"Right." He was lost with the Biblical reference but he wasn't going to show it. Instead, he focused on what he had understood and said simply, "Rusty is the best friend I could ever wish for."
Sister Catherine nodded. "That's a good thing to find in this world. We have a small community here and friendship and companionship help sustain us. Along with faith, of course."
Faith. Absolute belief. Yeah, that was definitely sustaining.
"Prayer is a powerful thing," she added.
Danny thought about times when he'd prayed. Times when prayers had been answered. He'd never really thought too hard about who was doing the listening. He sipped his tea.
"Do you talk to God often?"
Suddenly he wished he knew more about boilers. All these years of being with Rusty, surely some of the practical should have rubbed off.
In the end, he gave her his most charming smile and replied, "I don't know if God would want to hear from me, Sister."
Not when he spent his time breaking at least one of the commandments on a regular basis. They always rationalised that the people they targeted had scant regard for any of the commandments. Including, on occasions, the ass-coveting: there was something about Rusty, he guessed.
"Oh, Danny."
Too late, Danny saw where this was going to go. Lecture, exhortation, maybe even a prayer for the reform of his soul. He imagined himself nodding earnestly and joining in the praying. He didn't want to. He didn't want to have to lie to Sister Catherine.
But Sister Catherine surprised him again.
"Do you do what's right, Danny?"
Not "Do you keep to the straight and narrow?" or "Do you believe in God?".
"I try to, Sister." He did. They both did. He had a very strong sense of right and wrong and they both operated to a very strict code of honour. He just wasn't certain God would see it that way.
"You are easy in your heart?"
It was impossible to avoid Sister Catherine's gaze. Impossible not to tell her the truth.
"Yes."
She sat back in her chair, apparently satisfied. "Maybe God would be easier to talk to than you think."
Sister Anna led Rusty through the corridors and across the little area at the front of the infirmary with a nativity scene displayed on the table and Christmas decorations, some of them looking a little the worse for wear, and a Christmas tree, its branches bare.
Sister Anna caught his glance of curiosity. "The children come later today for carols and to decorate."
Nice. But then given some of their Christmas Eves, the whole experience made a pleasant change.
The heating system had had an airlock. Very past tense because it had taken a while but Rusty had unlocked it. The boiler was firing and hot water was running and Sister Anna was delighted and full of thanks. Rusty smiled an "It's nothing" and let her escort him back to find Danny.
Danny wasn't in Sister Catherine's office and Rusty's scalp suddenly started crawling. The phone call…a diversion? Suppose Georg had somehow orchestrated all this as a delaying tactic. Suppose he had Danny. Suppose these nuns were in on it. Trusting nuns was exactly the sort of stupid, idiotic-
"Rusty!" Sister Catherine walked back in with a fresh pot of tea. "Have you been success-"
"Where's Danny?"
Sister Anna gave a little sharp intake of breath. Rusty knew it was rude and he knew he was abrupt and he didn't care. Sister Catherine said nothing for a moment and then gave him a wide smile.
"Of course," she said quietly and there was understanding and apology in there. "Danny has gone to sit in our little chapel."
Danny had… Rusty stared at her. She was telling the truth in the way only a nun could.
"I'll show you," she offered.
Danny was sat in the back pew of the empty chapel. Rusty sat himself down beside him.
"You OK?"
"Yeah, I'm just…" Danny broke off and turned his head towards him.
Rusty looked a little shame-faced.
"Seriously, Rus. Nuns?"
Rusty rubbed the back of his neck. "Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought."
Idiot.
There was a contemplative silence.
"So what are you doing here? Or were you serious about becoming a nun?"
"Talked to Sister Catherine."
"Right."
There was another silence, this time, expectant and reluctant on either side.
"I was left with the impression that God might be open to discussion on the topic of whether what we do is right or wrong."
Huh.
"What we do's…"
"Absolutely."
Danny nodded. "That's what I said."
Good.
There was another silence and this one was all about the agreement.
Danny changed the subject. "How'd you get on?"
"We got warm nuns for Christmas."
Danny's lips twitched. There was really no answer to that.
"We on our way?" Rusty asked.
"Yeah...we should say thank you."
"About that…"
They found Sister Catherine in her office, sipping tea.
"Back to say goodbye again," Danny told her.
"And thank you once more," Rusty added.
"Oh, I believe we are the ones owing you a debt of gratitude," Sister Catherine smiled. "God brought you here for a reason."
"The gratitude is all ours," Danny assured her.
They'd been wished a peaceful Christmas and they'd headed towards their car.
"We should make it to a city by nightfall," Rusty suggested, holding out his hand for the car keys.
Danny grinned. "Have we strayed into Transylvania?"
Hand 'em over.
Keys were tossed and caught.
"It'll all be in the timing," Danny commented, a few steps ahead.
"Things usually are," Rusty agreed and there was something in the way he said it…
Danny turned round.
The snowball hit him firmly in the face. With as much dignity as he could muster, he wiped the snow away. Rusty was grinning at him. Danny nodded thoughtfully and then bent down and scooped up a large handful of snow.
"Uh-uh." Rusty wagged a finger. "Head wound, remember."
Danny smiled not altogether nicely. "That's not where the white stuff's going."
20th January. One Christmas over and the next one wasn't even visible on the horizon.
Sister Catherine stared down at the contents of the large box, neatly laid out on her desk. There were ten pairs of men's pyjamas, five of which were crisp navy, five of which were…pomegranate according to the label. There was a beautiful china teapot and a variety of leaf tea. And there were Christmas decorations, gilt and golden and new.
The pyjamas would be immediately useful and the teapot and the tea… Sister Catherine wondered. She checked again but the large box had come with no note. Carefully, she picked up the little gold-plated Christmas tree with the crystal star and the coloured glass beads.
"Schön," Sister Anna murmured.
Sister Catherine nodded. They would pack all the decorations away carefully for next year. And next year, Christmas would be that much brighter.