A/N: This A/N exists to make InSilva paranoid...
11th July 2001
He spent the rest of the afternoon in Danny's room, watching daytime TV, and it was awkward and unnatural. After everything Danny had said, part of him wanted to get as far away as possible, but that just wasn't an option here. The way he felt about Danny hadn't changed. Far as he could tell - and surely, surely, surely he'd be able to tell - the way Danny felt about him hadn't changed. Whatever Danny had seen, he didn't want to risk putting any more distance between them.
After tonight, hopefully, he'd be able to tell Danny about Tess. And much as he'd been trying not to think about it, it seemed likely that little revelation would ruin everything.
Hey, Danny. While you were in prison, I lived with your wife for a year. And now she's with Terry Benedict, and he's doing fuck-knows-what to her, but she's miserable and frightened, and it's all my fault.
If Danny was looking for a reason not to trust him, well. That would do nicely and it didn't even cover everything. If the worst came to the worst, he'd just have to convince Danny to be pragmatic. Danny would have to accept that even if he couldn't stand the sight of Rusty, he could still use him. Convincing Danny to put Tess first...in the circumstances, he didn't think that would be difficult.
His thoughts were dark, and it was a relief when seven thirty finally rolled around. "I gotta get going," he said, and as he stood up he spotted a flash of answering relief in Danny's eyes. Huh. He wondered what Danny's plans were. Not like he could exactly ask right now. Better that they were both hiding.
He headed upstairs, texting Livingston quickly, just checking that they were still set. The reply was full of indignation and he felt himself smile slightly, in spite of himself. Yeah. Questioning whether or not Livingston was going to do something he'd been asked to had never been a popular move.
He'd missed Livingston over the past couple of years. He'd missed everyone. And the past year, when he hadn't dared to say more than five words to anyone, when even meeting a waiter's eye had been stupid and dangerous...wasn't only talking to Danny again that made him feel giddy.
There was no point in regrets. He briskly ducked onto the hallway, mere feet away from Benedict's suite - from Tess - and he quickly stuck an 'Out of Order' sign on both elevators and dropped a hazard triangle in front of them. There. He knew Tess. It wouldn't even occur to her to check to see if the elevator was actually working. She'd obey the sign.
Quickly, he headed back into the stairwell and settled himself down on the landing below, leaning against the far wall, making sure she'd be able to see him. He could have forced the confrontation in the elevator, of course. There'd be far less possibility of Tess just turning around and heading in the opposite direction that way. But he hadn't wanted her to feel trapped.
He glanced at his watch. Right on time. Right about now, Tess would be thinking about heading downstairs to meet Benedict. And, right about now, Benedict would be being delayed by Saul. That part had worked out rather neatly.
He was listening out for it, and he thought he heard the sound of footsteps and the sound of a frustrated sigh, and then the stairwell door was pushed open and Tess was walking towards him.
The moment she saw him she stopped dead and her hand flew to her mouth.
"Hi, Tess," he said softly.
It wasn't like he'd been expecting her to be pleased to see him but the utter fury in her eyes, the twist of hate to her mouth...it still hurt.
He saw her ball up her fist. Watched the swing. Didn't move an inch.
Pain and his head rocked back and he touched his fingers to his lip. They came away bloody.
"Glad something stuck," he told her.
"I said I never wanted to see you again," she snapped coldly. "I meant it, Rusty."
He nodded, not moving any closer to her. "I know. But I wanted to talk to you."
"I don't have time to talk," she said, looking down the stairs, and the anger was still there, but he could see a glint of fear in her eyes and he thought - he hoped - that wasn't aimed at him. "I'm meeting Terry for dinner."
"He's going to be held up," he said reassuringly. "If you're a few minutes late, he'll never even know. I promise, Tess."
She stared at him, and now the fear was out in full force. "Held up? He's...you're - "
" - just someone who happens to want to talk to him," he interrupted quickly. "He'll join you for dinner. If you want to be there."
Her hands were twisting together uncomfortably and she took a couple of steps back, away from him. "He's a good man."
"No," Rusty said calmly. "He's really not."
"What would you know about it?" she demanded, her head snapping up to look at him. "Don't you dare judge Terry, you...you monster."
He made sure to hide the wince, to hide all the pain at her words. "I saw the two of you having dinner last night," he said carefully. "I saw the way he looks at you. Heard some of the things he said. That's not the way a good man talks to anyone, Tess. Let alone the woman he's supposed to love."
She was shaking her head furiously. "No. No, you're wrong. Terry's good to me. He's patient, he's tolerant and he cares for me. He's a good man. He's more than I deserve. He's not like John. He's not like Danny. He's not like you. He doesn't hit me. He's not a thief. He's not - "
Her voice had a strange, repetitive pattern to it. Like she'd said these exact same words before, many, many times. He had an image of her standing in front of the mirror, telling herself all this like a mantra, a prayer, and his heart ached. " - Is that really what you want to settle for,Tess?" he cut in softly. "There's - "
" - better out there?" she cut in, and her eyes were fixed on the floor. "Not that I ever found." She gave a soft, choked sob, and instinctively Rusty reached out, offering comfort like he had so many times before.
She flinched away. "Leave me alone," she begged. "Don't you think you've done enough?"
No. No, obviously he hadn't, or she wouldn't be here. "I want to help you, Tess," he tried. "If you won't come away with me, call Kat at least. She - "
" - she worried because you paid her," Tess said bitterly.
He thought about the dozen or so messages Kat had left him, her voice more anxious and bewildered each time. "You know that's not true," he said softly.
She shook her head, her lips pressed tight together. "Leave me alone," she said after a second, her voice unsteady. "I'm with Terry now."
"I know," he said. "But he isn't good for you, Tess. Please. Let me help you."
Didn't seem like she was listening. "You said last night...you were spying on me?" She gasped. "The man at the next table. I remember...it was you." Her eyes flickered up to his face. "I could tell Terry, you know. I should tell Terry. What do you think would happen if Terry knew what you'd done?"
Terry wouldn't care about that part. But the rest...oh, Rusty figured that Terry would have what was left of him buried in the desert.
And Tess was right, of course. She could tell Terry right now and there was nothing he would do to stop her. "If that's what you think is right, Tess," he said gently, dismissing the issue. "But listen to me. The way Terry talks to you. You know that's not right." She wasn't looking at him, but he knew her well enough to know she was hearing every word. "He shouldn't talk to you like that way. He shouldn't order you around. He shouldn't be in charge of what you eat, what you wear, what you do. He's hurting you, Tess. He's crushing everything that makes you the person you are, and I want to help you. Say the word right now, and I'll take you away from here. You know I will."
"I hate you," she whispered, and her voice was thick with tears. "I hate you." She threw herself into his arms, and he held her tightly, and he could feel her shaking. "I hate you," she told him again.
"Just say the word," he said again.
She pulled away. "I need to go," she said, looking down and wiping her face.
"I'm staying in the hotel," he said quickly. "Room 714. If you need me. Just one word, Tess. I swear."
"I need to go to Terry," she said, not looking at him.
"Terry doesn't love you," he said simply.
There was a crack and she was staring at him, trembling, and he raised his hand to his face again, exploring the pain. He didn't say anything. She hit him again.
"You don't know what love is," she snapped, her voice high and shaking.
"We both know that's not true," he told her.
She shook her head. "I've...I've got to go," she said, and she hurried downstairs.
He watched her go and leaned back heavily against the cold wall. Fuck. That hadn't gone as well as he'd hoped.
