Steps, Forward and Back Chapter 14: Six months after, an ocean's 11 fanfic

A/N: Long chapter that didn't want to be split. *shrug* Sorry.

Sometimes marks just walked up to you, smiled and begged you to take them for everything they had. In Danny's opinion, to do anything less would be positively rude.

Lewis Hutton came to his attention when he elbowed Danny aside to cut into the line at Starbucks. Coming in between Danny and his desire for a double espresso was unwise. Talking loudly on his cellphone about the Ferrari he was having specially imported, and the money he was raking in under the table was foolish. Tutting loudly and calling the barista a stupid little girl when she asked him to repeat his order was unpleasant and unnecessary. And picking up the cup of pink and white liquid sugar Danny had ordered to take back for Rusty was downright dangerous.

Danny smiled brightly at the mark-who-had-no-idea-how-much-trouble-he-was-in. "Excuse me," he said with a gracious smile. "I rather think that's mine."

"Really?" He glanced down at the drink. "One sees people drinking these things and I suppose I was always curious as to the appeal."

Honestly, Danny didn't understand the appeal himself. That didn't mean he was okay with it being stolen. He smiled and looked at the girl behind the counter. "Can I get another of these for my friend here?" he asked, holding out a fifty. "And don't bother about the change."

The drink-thief was looking mildly intrigued by this display of careless wealth.

"I always say a man should indulge his curiosity," Danny explained, turning back to him as they waited for the new drink to be made. "It pays to be adventurous, don't you find?" He hoped the answer was yes. Cautious marks were always much more difficult to work with.

"I quite agree," the mark nodded intently. "Still, this is very kind of you." His eyes roamed over Danny, in what he probably figured was a subtle way, taking in his suit, his shoes, his watch. Danny let him look. Not like he made a habit of displaying it, but there should be enough subtle wealth to keep him interested.

"It's the least I can do for a fellow Ferrari owner," Danny smiled, looking pointedly at the car keys in the mark's hand. "Curtis Lane." He held out a hand expectantly.

"Lewis Hutton," the mark declared, gripping his hand just hard enough to turn a handshake into a competition. "Good to meet you. So you have a Ferrari?"

"Yes, but sadly there's not much opportunity to really drive her around here," he said regretfully, and he should probably steer the conversation away from cars. Apart from anything else, it was unlikely to take him where he wanted to go. "So what do you do?"

He listened intently as Lewis started talking, and it was really no problem at all to steer Lewis until they were sitting down together, talking like they'd known each other for years.

It was about two hours after Rusty got back when Danny finally appeared. He might have been more worried, but he'd got a text from Danny. 'Something interesting. Back soon.' Actually, it had said 'Back seed' and he'd grinned and figured Danny had been writing it with his phone still in his pocket.

In other circumstances the delay might have had him on edge. Right now he was just glad that he could hide the evidence from his little shopping excursion so easily. He really didn't want to have to talk to Danny about this. Not that Danny wouldn't understand...just that he didn't want to have the conversation.

At any rate, he decided to trust the text for the moment, trust that Danny knew what he was doing, and he settled down in the living room to watch Star Trek reruns, mostly in the hope of seeing Shatner's toupee move.

He smiled when he heard the keycard in the lock and he was on his feet as Danny came in, promptly relieving him of the delicious-looking frappuccino. "Trying to apologise for being late?" he asked lightly.

"This is what made me late," Danny told him. "Our mark tried to steal it."

Huh. He took a long, appreciative sip. "I didn't know we had a mark."

"We do now," Danny told him grimly. "He tried to take your drink, so I bought him one of his own, and then I had to actually drink the first one to stop him getting suspicious." He shuddered. "How can you drink that stuff?"

"My body is adapted to survive on sugar alone," Rusty explained seriously. "So other than having good taste in drinks – "

" – Lewis Hutton," Danny began." He's rich, he's boring, he's a self-important, entitled bastard who thinks the world revolves around him."

Well that sounded more than enough to make him a good mark. He nodded understandingly. "So what's the plan?" he asked over his shoulder, as he put his drink down on the counter and poured Danny a fresh cup of coffee.

Danny smiled as he took it and they sat down, gazing at each other across the coffee table. "Lewis thinks of himself as a winter sports afficianado," he said. "Apparently he goes down to the mountains every month or so for some skiing. He's going this weekend."

"Okay," Rusty nodded, possibilities dancing through his head. That gave them a location and a way in. "So what – "

" – he was complaining about the number of people clogging up the slopes and hotels these days," Danny told him.

Ah. "You want to sell him – "

" – I want to sell him a mountain," Danny corrected.

Sounded like fun.

He grinned. "So you're – "

" – financial advisor," Danny told him.

"And I'm your client who happens to own a mountain," Rusty said thoughtfully.

Danny grinned. "Ski slope at the very least."

"You tell him – "

" – you're a rich idiot," Danny confirmed.

"Need to give a reason to sell," Rusty said, lips pursed.

"Messy divorce?" Danny suggested.

"Works," Rusty nodded. "Gives a reason – "

" – cash sale," Danny agreed.

They smiled at each other as the plan took shape and for the next few hours they talked specifics. Laying out everything that needed to be done. Pizza arrived and was eaten and details stacked on top of details and they were lost in concentration. By the time Rusty was convinced that they'd taken care of everything that could be taken care of today, it was after eleven at night.

"So what do you think?" Danny asked, leaning back in his chair lazily.

"You asking me if I think we can do it?" Rusty asked, smiling, and Danny laughed.

"You know it's your birthday in a couple of weeks," Danny said, changing the subject. "You thought about what you want to do?"

He paused and his tongue suddenly felt heavy and he concentrated on pouring himself a glass of wine. Really, he hadn't known. He'd shoved the memory of the date to the back of his head. Ignored the significance. "Haven't really thought," he said evenly.

Danny nodded. "Maybe I'll surprise you," he suggested.

His hand jerked involuntarily and the wine spilt onto the carpet. "Maybe you will," he said, looking up and smiling reassuringly at Danny before the frown had the opportunity to develop into a question. Danny's voice had been full of the fond and the delight and the anticipation and that was just everything Danny had always felt before. The momentary wrong reaction...these days he was on top of it, most of the time. It had been months since he was even close to getting lost. Months since the nightmares had been anything more than nightmares.

These days, most of the time, an outsider wouldn't be able to see any differences between the him he was now and the him he'd been before prison.

The anxiety was still in Danny's eyes but he accepted the quick shake of Rusty's head.

"So what do you think?" Danny asked instead. "You ready to do some skiing?"

Danny stared at the luggage carousel, willing it to move. He hated waiting for luggage. Not least because he'd had a couple of occasions where his bag just never showed. And most of the time he would just shrug and move on, but one time Tess' anniversary present had been in the bag and that had soured him to the whole process. Mostly he preferred to just take a holdall as hand luggage. Made everything quicker.

"Patience," Rusty murmured in his ear, amusement dancing in his voice.

Danny didn't look at him. "Look who's talking."

"I never mind waiting," Rusty said, with startling untruthfulness.

"If you hadn't insisted we haul the ski stuff from New York..." he complained sullenly. Wasn't like there was a shortage of places to get equipment round here.

Rusty just grinned. "You saying you'd rather be careless than wait a few – "

" – twenty – " Danny interjected bitterly.

" – minutes," Rusty finished. "Really, Danny?"

He sighed balefully. Of course Rusty had a point. They were supposed to be into skiing and while Lewis hadn't been on their flight they had no way of being sure that someone wouldn't know him, or someone in town wouldn't mention if they didn't have their equipment.

After all, back in Starbucks, he'd made it clear that they were both rich and into skiing.

"What a coincidence," he'd smiled, just after Lewis had divulged his weekend plans. "I might be heading down there myself. With a client, you know."

"Really?" Lewis had looked thoughtful. "Perhaps I'll see you there."

"Perhaps," Danny agreed. "Though hopefully I'll be busy. If I can get the...if I can get my client off the slopes long enough to talk business."

"See, that's why I only work for myself," Lewis told him. "Keeps me from having to deal with too many idiots."

By Danny's count, he still had to deal with at least one. But Lewis had clearly been intrigued by the thought of a rich idiot in his neighbourhood, and Danny had carefully seeded the conversation with other juicy hints, setting it up so that Lewis was desperately angling to get the name of such a valuable acquaintance. That was when Danny had left. Making things seem too easy was always a mistake.

But they'd spent the last few days making sure that they had identities that could stand up to any kind of scrutiny. Basics such as drivers licenses, wardrobes and business cards, were simple enough. But after looking into Lewis, they'd taken it one step further and Livingston had come through for them as always. Curtis Lane had a professional looking website with all the appropriate links, proclaiming him to be a renowned independent financial advisor, and a couple of archived news stories – one drink driving incident and a very messy divorce – indicated that Charlie Regent was indeed a rich idiot nonpareil.

The carousel started moving at last and cases started to appear. "Finally," he said with feeling.

"Patience," a voice murmured in his ear. Not Rusty. He turned quickly and the red-head smiled impishly as she brushed intimately past him and grabbed a suitcase and a tripod from the conveyor before vanishing into the crowd.

Danny stared after her. Huh. That had been...surprising.

Rusty dropped Danny's case into his hand. "Come on," he said, sounding amused. "Let's go find some mountains."

The cabin was almost startlingly luxurious. Rusty had to admit being at least a little impressed, especially when he checked the fridge and found it well-stocked with basic groceries, wine and chocolate. Well that was good. Too bad they were working, this seemed like it would be a good place to spend some downtime.

Danny looked over from browsing through the channels on the home cinema system and grinned his agreement.

Still. They were working and that meant they had to get on.

The probability was that they'd need to meet with Lewis in here at some point, so first thing was they needed to dress the room. Just in case of unexpected visits. There had to be no doubt that Charlie Regent actually owned this place.

Of course, equally important was Charlie Regent being recognised around the resort.

He pulled the box of knick knacks out of his case and handed them to Danny. Have fun decorating," he said with a smile.

"Have fun making friends," Danny retorted, and he laughed and left.

For the rest of the afternoon he was wandering around the resort, seeing and being seen, learning the layout perfectly, learning the names of everyone he could find, making sure that as many of them as possible knew Charlie's name and, with a word of persuasion here, a blatant lie there, and a couple of well-placed hefty bribes, he amassed a collection of people ready to swear blind that Charlie had been coming here sporadically for at least five years. Could come in handy.

That done, he tracked down the hotel and cabin where Lewis would be staying, found the staff who attended to him, and started asking questions, flashing charm and money, buying drinks - whatever got people on side.

Wasn't that difficult. Seemed Lewis had not been making himself popular. Apparently he'd gotten three people fired in the last four years, for crimes ranging from calling him a pretentious asshole, to putting red wine in the chiller.

After about two hours he had built up a picture of Lewis' likely movements. And he'd identified the most disgruntled of the disgruntled employees. Her name was Toni and he let her draw him into a more private conversation. He expressed a little sympathy, bought a few more drinks, talked a little about karma and threw in a slightly more material reward, and soon he had her word that she'd text him when Lewis arrived, and text him again with all his subsequent movements.

"Two hundred dollars a text," he promised with a smile. "And here's a thousand up front."

"Mmm." She looked at him through her eye lashes. "What if I want to send you more...personal messages?"

Thankfully he managed to hide his initial reaction and feign a mix of regret and apology. "Ah, well, it's a work phone you see, so that wouldn't be altogether appropriate. Best not."

There was a tense second when he thought she might be planning on pursuing the point, maybe asking for his non-existent personal number, but thankfully she took the hint. He was relieved. He was sure that once upon a time he'd been much more graceful when it came to brushing people off. Of course, that had been when the idea actually interested him, rather than making his skin crawl. Who knew? Maybe back then, he'd have said yes.

As it was, with a window on Lewis' movements and a few ideas on ways of arranging meetings, he went home to Danny. Just in time too. It was cold out here. Not surprising, really. It was, after all, the middle of winter. But nonetheless it was cold and he was starting to ache from walking all afternoon, and he had to admit to being glad to get home to a cabin with a blazing log fire and a delicious smell wafting through the air.

There was a pot in the kitchen and he walked straight over to investigate.

Huh.

"Cheese fondue," Danny announced proudly.

Mmmm. He nodded and made a grab for a cube of bread sitting on a nearby tray.

"Took me all afternoon," Danny added.

Rusty froze and just managed to resist the urge to drop the bread. "You made this?" he asked, very carefully.

"Yes," Danny said with a look of faint injury that he managed to keep for a total of three seconds before he grinned. "No."

"No," Rusty agreed, relaxing and dipping the bread. Now that he knew it was safe.

"Took me most of the afternoon to get the restaurant to send it over," Danny explained. "Every time I called they wouldn't pick up."

"Huh." Rusty considered this, while enjoying the wonderful taste of cheese and cider and mmm. "Maybe you've offended them."

"All I wanted was fondue," Danny protested, grabbing some bread for himself. "Oh, this is good."

Rusty nodded and looked round. "We got – "

" – mulled wine," Danny nodded. "Just needs heated."

"You're really doing this mountain thing seriously, aren't you?" Rusty said with a smile.

"Uh huh," Danny nodded. "Gonna try hiking next. Hiking and maybe gorge walking."

"How do you think you gorge walk anyway?" Rusty wondered.

"I think you probably find a gorge," Danny suggested mildly. "And walk it."

Rusty considered that for a minute. "Think I'll stick with the fondue." Sounded more appealing. He looked around the cabin, taking in the skiing trophy, the pictures on the wall, the stack of unpaid bills on the counter, the lawyer's letter. "'s looking good," he said, impressed.

Danny nodded, satisfied. "Should do nicely. Lewis – "

" – yeah," Rusty said, concentrating on getting more cheese on one piece of bread than should be humanly possible. "Got enough to be going on with anyway."

They did. So far, in fact, this con was going just fine.

They spent the rest of the evening eating fondue, drinking mulled wine and watching 'The Sixth Sense', and Danny mentioned he had watched it with Linus a year back, and Linus had flat out insisted he was wrong when he suggested Bruce Willis might be dead.

"Should've put money on it," Danny lamented, and Rusty laughed.

Once the movie was done, they went to bed and he fell asleep almost immediately.

He knew it was a dream right away. Of course he knew. It was vague and nebulous and terrifying, but he couldn't wake up, and the scene barely played out, just the little details, days blended together.

Happy Birthday," Moffatt's voice whispered... The taste of vanilla on his lips..." "I've got a surprise for you. You'll like this"...His lungs were on fire...greasy mashed potatoes, Moffatt's hand on his thigh...lips pressed chastely against his..."I've got a surprise for you."... Birthday... surprise... Happy...

With a silent, strangled cry, he sat bolt upright in bed, breathing hard, his fingers twisted through the covers, drenched in sweat.

God, that was...he shuddered. He could still feel it. Made him long to go take a shower. Made him long to run through to Danny's room.

He drew his knees up to his chest, his head dropped down onto his arms, and he was shaking with left-over fear and disgust.

His heart was still racing and his skin was crawling with anxiety and sensation, and taking a deep breath, he shoved the memory of the dream to the back of his mind and got out of bed and started to run through the relaxation exercises that Stan had taught him.

It worked just fine and he could feel the tension and the fear ebbing away, and after half an hour, maybe an hour, he lay back down and did his best to forget he'd ever woken up at all.

It had been a while since he'd skied. Fortunately, seemed it was like riding a bike only with a lot more snow involved. At any rate his muscles seemed to know what they were doing, so he just got on with looking for Lewis Hutton.

Rusty had got two texts from Toni that morning. Apparently Lewis had arrived bright and early and had immediately gone back out to hit the slope. This particular slope, apparently. Looking round at the sea of snowsuits and goggles, he could suddenly see a problem with this plan.

"Plain navy snowsuit, orange goggles," Rusty murmured, pulling up beside him in a swish of snow. "And a red hat."

Danny shot him a grin. "Thanks."

"Took her four texts to tell us that," Rusty added pensively, staring down at the phone in his hand.

Huh. Apparently Toni wasn't above taking advantage.

"Long as the information is good," Rusty allowed with a sigh.

He nodded. Yeah. Yeah, wasn't like they wouldn't pay her. But she wouldn't be someone they'd consider going to again, if they happened to be in the neighbourhood. "Right," he said, looking round. "Navy blue and orange..."

There was no sign of Lewis, but a flash of light caught his eye and he looked down the slope in time to catch a glimpse of red hair and a camera.

Huh. He thought...alright, he was certain that was the woman from the airport.

He gazed down at her abstractedly. Taking pictures of the skiers. Probably she worked for a magazine or the tourist board or something. He wondered what her name was.

There was an unfamiliar ache in his chest. Regret or anticipation. He couldn't tell.

Didn't matter anyway.

He determinedly turned away, and spotted a red hat and a navy skisuit, further down the slope again.

"What do you think?" he asked softly, nudging Rusty to catch his attention.

Rusty squinted for a long moment. "I've only seen pictures," he reminded Danny at last.

Yeah. Good point. "I think it's him," he said, almost certain. "We cut downhill, we should be able to catch him at the bottom."

Rusty blinked, and it seemed like a shadow momentarily crossed his face. "Sounds good," he agreed, pulling his goggles down so Danny couldn't see his eyes. "Race you to the bottom!"

He pulled away before Danny could say anything, and Danny was left to chase after him, speeding dizzily downhill, snow and trees dashing past them, and he had to admit, this was pretty exhilarating.

They reached the bottom of the slope in a flurry of snow, Rusty a few moments ahead of him. He glanced sideways quickly and Lewis was in earshot.

He pulled his hat and goggles off and started talking loudly. "Well, Charlie, I think I nearly beat you that time, what do you think?"

"Oh, I don't think so you know, Curtis," Rusty drawled, his voice braying and vacant. "I rather think I beat you fair and square again, old man."

Danny wasn't looking, but he could feel Lewis' eyes on the back of his neck. Really, they wanted Lewis to talk to them. That was always a thousand times less suspicious than if they had to attract his attention more directly.

"Curtis! Is that you?" The voice came from behind him and Danny allowed himself the briefest of grins of relief.

He turned round slowly, frowning as though caught by surprise and for a long moment he blinked at Lewis in puzzlement. "Lewis Hutton," he said at last with an air of triumph. "I forgot you said you were coming down here. How are you?"

"Oh, I'm just fine," Lewis said, smiling. "Been spending time on the slopes." His eyes drifted to Rusty thoughtfully.

"Where are my manners?" Danny asked rhetorically. "Lewis, this is Charlie Regent, my client and kind host, Charlie, this is Lewis Hutton, he's in investments."

"Investments?" Rusty asked with a snort, shaking Lewis' hand. "Perhaps you can find something for Curtis to invest my money in, huh? Stop him telling me I'm broke all the time." He elbowed Danny in the ribs and Danny winced and shot a look at Lewis, who was looking thoughtful. "So what do you think of the slopes? Too many people around, don't you think?"

"Definitely," Lewis said with a grimace, looking disparagingly around himself. "Makes you wonder when skiing became the opium of the masses."

Rusty stared at him for a long moment with unwavering stupidity and incomprehension, and Danny could see Lewis smirking to himself. "Yes," Rusty nodded at last. "Now, I might not be the brightest tool in the shed, but I don't think there's any point to owning your own ski slope if you have to put up with people skiing on it."

"Your own ski slope?" Lewis asked sharply.

"Yeah," Rusty agreed amiably. "Up there. Except I can't keep it private, unfortunately." His face darkened into a sulky scowl. "Curtis says I can't afford it."

"Not many could in this day and age," Danny cut in quickly and reassuringly. He glanced quickly at Lewis again. "I think, perhaps, we'd better be going Charlie. Nice seeing you again Lewis."

"Wait," Lewis interjected. "Why don't you join me for lunch?"

Huh. They hadn't exactly been expecting that. Hoping, maybe, but not expecting. Looked like they'd judged the bait just fine.

In fact, they'd judged it so well that Lewis more or less attached himself to them for the rest of the afternoon, and they took a leisurely lunch in a nice Italian restaurant where Lewis absolutely refused to tip the waitress, as he didn't like the way she laid the plates down, Danny kept up a consistent onslaught of detached, professional charm, and Rusty drank six dry martinis and complained bitterly about his ex wife. They both casually turned aside all attempts by Lewis to talk about money problems or private ski slopes. Which, had the fortunate effect of driving him quietly wild.

Seemed like Lewis was well and truly hooked.

"I have to say I'd love to see your trophy," Lewis lied as he was standing up to leave. "Third place. That's really something."

"Would you?" Rusty asked vacantly, and inside he was grinning. "Oh, well, come by the cabin sometime."

"How about this evening?" Lewis leapt eagerly. "You mentioned Curtis was going out. You might be glad of the company."

Danny frowned at Lewis, knowing that this was exactly the sort of meeting that he, as a loyal and competent financial advisor, should be seeking to avert. "Charlie, I really don't think – "

"Sure," Rusty said, ignoring Danny with a disinterested shrug. "See you around seven?"

"Seven," Lewis repeated, and he shot a look at Danny that appeared to be trying to say just business.

They watched as Lewis walked away and didn't relax until the door was closed behind him.

"Well," Danny exhaled.

"Yeah," Rusty agreed. "If he was any more eager he'd be running the con himself."

Danny grinned, but it turned to a frown almost immediately as he watched Rusty struggle to his feet and immediately sit back down again. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Rusty said reassuringly. "Exercise. Guess I'm not used to it."

Right. He supposed his legs were aching a little too. And certainly in the next instant Rusty stood up no problem.

"Coming?" Rusty invited. "Figure we've got a few hours to relax before Lewis comes calling."

Seemed like they'd need them.

At Danny's insistence, Rusty had taken a long, hot bath and that had helped right up until he had to try and get out of the tub. Took him a couple of minutes of thankfully-silent struggling. Huh. Humiliating.

He pressed his hand against his hip and grimaced. Exercise. Yeah. Seemed like this whole winter sport plan had its disadvantages.

Dressing quickly he headed downstairs. Was about half six and Danny was watching TV.

"You going to – "

" – I'll make myself scarce," Danny promised. "Quiet as a mouse until you need the call."

He grinned. "Do mice usually get bored?"

"I've got a book," Danny told him with a degree of misplaced pride.

"Uh huh." He found himself smiling some more. "Any particular book? Or have you not got that far yet?"

"Mrs Frisby and the rats of NIMH," Danny answered with dignity.

Rusty nodded seriously. "Mouse book. Good call."

There was a knock at the door and Rusty quickly gestured at Danny, and with a nod, Danny vanished up the stairs.

Right. Rusty sighed and brushed his hand through his hair, let his jaw droop slightly, let his eyes half-close sleepily, grabbed a martini glass from the counter. Time to be Charlie.

When he opened the door Lewis was standing there, looking bored and impatient.

Rusty stared at him for a long moment. "Oh, yes, Lewis," he said at last vaguely. "I forgot you were coming over." He gestured unevenly with the glass. "Come in. You want a drink or something?"

"A martini would hit the spot nicely," Lewis said, walking straight in, eying him with such a look of disguised disdain that Rusty couldn't help but be glad that Danny was safely upstairs. Time had only made Danny more sensitive.

"Sure," he nodded, fixing the drink while Lewis wandered around the cabin curiously, his eyes lingering on the stack of red bills. "You wanted to see the trophy, right? 's over there."

"Yes, I see," Lewis called. "Very impressive."

He brought the drinks over, neatly spilling some on the carpet. "Sorry."

"I have to admit I'm a little puzzled as to why you don't sell some things," Lewis began. "You seem to be a man of property. This cabin," He took an almost-casual drink. "Your private ski slope..."

Rusty scowled. "Can't, can I?" he said with studied injury. "Terms of my divorce. My bitch wife and her band of sharks – lawyers, y'know," he said, and watched Lewis resist the urge to roll his eyes as he explained the joke. "They'd take every penny."

Lewis raised his eyebrows. "And that stops a man like you?" he asked.

"Well, I sold a few things under the table of course," he admitted with a shrug. "Cash in hand. But Curtis says I shouldn't do that anymore. He says I'll be in a world of trouble if I get caught."

"Curtis," Lewis said with a disparaging shrug. "He lacks vision. Don't get caught, it's as simple as that." He smirked and drained his glass. "I'm sure a man like you could manage that without any difficulty."

In reality of course, Lewis didn't give a flying fuck whether Charlie would get to keep the money. All that mattered to Lewis was that the deal got made

He preened, flattered. "Well. Maybe. I don't know though."

Discreetly he reached into his pocket and pressed send, and a moment later his phone was ringing. He answered it without so much as an apologetic look at Lewis. "Hello?...Oh, it's you. I thought I told you..." He scowled petulantly. "How dare you speak to me like...no...no, you'll get your money, I...just give me more time to pay...I told you, you'll get your fucking money now leave me alone."

He hung up the phone and turned back to Lewis. "Fucking vampires," he grunted. "Making a lot of fuss over nothing. You know how it is."

"Quite, quite," Lewis said, oozing insincere charm. He took a step forwards and placed an intimately companionable arm around Rusty's shoulders. "You know, you really should think about selling your slope, don't you think? I'm sure it would answer a lot of your difficulties. Give you a bit of ready cash anyway."

The weight of Lewis' arm was uncomfortable. Wasn't frightening it just made him feel tense and on edge. Nothing he couldn't hide. Nothing he couldn't cope with these days. "You think so?" he asked, in an approximation of intent, drunken thought. He shook his head. "Can't really be done, you know. Dunno where I'd find someone with that sort of money. What am I going to do, stick an advert in the paper? 'For sale, one mountain, buyer must pay cash'." He laughed raucously.

"Oh, I'm sure you could find someone," Lewis said patiently. He squeezed Rusty's shoulders tightly. "In fact, I suppose I just might be interested myself. Possibly."

"You?" He blinked stupidly at Lewis as though the thought had never even occurred to him. "You'd do that?"

"Perhaps," Lewis shrugged and walked away, as though the subject bored him. "Why don't you show me the slope tomorrow and I'll consider it."

"Yeah," Rusty said slowly. "Yeah, we could – " His phone rang again and he answered it quickly. "Hello, what ... oh...Yeah, I see. I...uh huh..." He covered the mouthpiece. "Think I'm going to have to go out. Business, you know?"

Lewis looked faintly disgusted and disapproving. No doubt unhappy with the idea of someone in his apparent condition conducting any kind of business.

"I'll meet you tomorrow at your hotel," Rusty continued. "'Bout ten? We can carry on talking then."

"Very well," Lewis nodded. "Goodnight, Charlie."

"'night," he said absently, turning his attention back to his phone call and all the time he was acutely aware of Lewis walking across the room and the moment when he left.

Danny appeared downstairs moments later. "He bought it?"

"Hook line and sinker," Rusty promised with a grin.

Danny was fully prepared to admit it might be a bit of a risk, but neither of them had felt like staying in that evening.

Sensible thing to do was to keep their heads down and make sure that they only went out in public if they were in character. After all, if Lewis spotted them being, well, them, the con would probably be screwed up beyond repair. But then, neither of them had ever really been known for doing the sensible thing.

Still, they'd picked a bar that they were pretty sure Lewis wouldn't be seen dead in. Cheap and cheerful would probably be the way to describe it, and the wallpaper might be faded but it felt friendly enough. Comfortable, and they'd found a table at the back, next to the jukebox, and they sat and drank and talked and it was good.

"You reckon Lewis has been checking up on us?" Danny wondered idly.

Rusty shrugged. ""Livingston said the sites have got a few hits at least. He was going to trace the IP addresses this evening and let us know."

"It's not likely to be anyone else now, is it?" Danny objected.

"You never know," Rusty told him seriously. "You could be about to get a whole lot of calls from people seeking sound financial advice."

Immediately Danny found himself thinking of a grey office and a greyer life and men like Elliot Roth who wanted his advice, and he tried to hide the shudder. "Good thing we didn't give my number then," he said lightly.

Rusty's brow was creased and he could see the worry and the incomprehension in Rusty's eyes, and he shook his head slightly, dismissing it. That part of his life was a closed book. "You thought any more about your birthday?" he asked instead brightly. "You don't think about what you want, you might not like what you get."

A flash of memory in Rusty's eyes and Danny was cursing himself. But then Rusty was smiling with perfect confidence. "You wouldn't get me anything I wouldn't like," he said definitely.

"Believe it," Danny said hoarsely. He wanted to make sure that Rusty enjoyed his birthday. As though celebrating this one would somehow make up for the others he'd missed.

He'd never forgotten Rusty's birthday, of course. Not once.

The first year he'd been adrift in a sea of rage and unreason, and the date had still been marked on the calendar in the kitchen, circled in red and mocking him. Part of him had wanted to do something, to send something perhaps, to remind Rusty that it mattered. Instead he'd hardened his heart and spent the day telling himself it didn't matter.

The second year he'd expected it to hurt less. But it didn't. He found himself buying a copy of Ghostbusters, autographed by Bill Murray and Dan Ackroyd, and it sat on the dresser for three weeks before he found the strength to throw it out.

The third year his marriage was slowly crumbling away and it felt like he was falling apart along with it, and he'd felt more alone than he ever had in his life. He lay on the sofa and drank his weight in cheap whisky and dreamed of days when he could change the world.

The fourth year he'd been working with Linus of course, and on Rusty's birthday he'd insisted on taking the kid to rob the Met, and afterwards they'd eaten Chinese take-out at three in the morning, and talked about whether dolphins could be trained to find pirate treasure, and it had been one more day living with a pain he didn't even notice anymore.

"Maybe we could stop by and see Saul," he suggested. "Or the three of us could head down to Vegas. See Reuben."

"Thought we agreed that you should stay clear of Vegas for at least a couple of years," Rusty pointed out. "Benedict knows you, remember?"

"Yeah, but Carson's behind bars," Danny answered with an easy shrug. Not like Terry had any way of connecting them to the job.

"Doesn't mean he's gonna be pleased to see you," Rusty said decidedly. "No Vegas, okay? Indulge me."

"Don't I always," Danny answered quickly, finishing his drink.

"Alright, since you're always so indulgent, I'll get the next round," Rusty told him with a grin, and he headed up to the bar and vanished amongst the crowd.

Danny frowned slightly as he watched him go. Looked like Rusty was still limping slightly. That was odd...

His musings were cut short by the sound of his phone ringing.

He checked the display quickly. Tess. Huh. That was strange. They'd been keeping in touch, but she normally called on a Saturday morning. Maybe something was wrong.

"Hi Tess," he said as he answered. "What's up?"

"Hello Danny," she said, and she didn't sound too upset at least.

"Is everything okay?" he asked anyway.

"Yes, but I thought..." She sighed. "I thought I should let you know. David came by today."

David? God, Danny hadn't thought of him in years. "Did you just bump into him or – "

" – no, he came to the house," she confirmed and he grimaced slightly.

"Sorry," he said, and he'd long since lost track of the amount of apologies he'd made for Rusty's brother over the years.

"I don't know where he got the address from, but he didn't know about the divorce," she told him. "He didn't even know that Rusty had gone to prison. I didn't tell him. It didn't seem like my place. That was right, wasn't it?"

Danny found himself wondering just how David would have taken the news. At any rate, no, Rusty would never want David to find out that way. Hell, Rusty would probably never want David to find out at all. "I take it he was looking for Rusty?" he asked.

"Yes. Well, for both of you," she agreed. "I said I didn't know where you were. And I said I didn't have a number for you."

"Thanks" he said, breathing a sigh of relief. If Rusty wanted to see David again, Danny wouldn't stop him. But he wanted it to be Rusty's choice. "Did he leave a number?"

"Yes," Tess said. "I wrote it down..."

He quickly felt through his pockets for a pen, and his fingers brushed over the folded paper in his jacket pocket, and as always he tried not to think about it. Pen and a beermat, and he scribbled down the number quickly.

"Thanks, Tess," he said again, and he forced himself to ask the next question. "Did he ask for money?"

Silence. "It doesn't matter," Tess said at last, reluctantly, and that was a yes if Danny had ever heard one.

"How much?" he asked gently.

"I gave him five hundred dollars," Tess admitted with a sigh. "It was all I had in the house. He said he needed it to get out of town. And he said he had to get out of town."

Yeah. He always needed something. "I'll pay you back," Danny promised, and five hundred dollars wasn't that much in the scheme of things, but there was no way he was going to let Tess pay it.

"He said it was just a loan," she protested.

"Uh huh." Danny knew he sounded sceptical, but he couldn't help it. Not that he kept track, but he knew that over the last two decades, he and Rusty had lent David close to a million dollars. And they'd never seen a penny of it back. "I'll pay you back. Monday, I'll be back in the city and I'll go straight to the bank."

"I didn't tell you because I wanted the money, Danny," she told him.

"I know," he said, because he did. She'd wanted to give him a heads up. "Now. How's the rest of your week been?"

They spent another five minutes or so talking in pleasing inconsequentialities, and it wasn't until he hung up the phone that he realised that Rusty hadn't come back from the bar.

The slow burn of panic wound its way through him and he was on his feet in an instant, cursing his inattention, searching through the crowd.

He found Rusty standing at the corner of the bar, and the dark-haired man was standing closer to Rusty than Danny liked, and his smile was too intimate and his voice was too low, and the way he carefully brushed his fingers over Rusty's shirt sleeve as he made some obscure point, just made Danny want to punch him.

An instant before Danny would have lost it completely, Rusty looked over at him, just for a fraction of a second, and Danny could read the warning there, the plea for calm.

Thing was, even though Rusty didn't want him to, he could also read the tension and the fear, and the seemingly-endless well of self disgust.

He swallowed hard at looked at the dark-haired guy again, looked at the intelligence, and the humour, and the unselfconsciously flirtatious. Once upon a time Danny would have seen this scene and smiled and not waited up. Once upon a time he'd have thought of the guy as Rusty's type.

Not now though.

Rusty said something to the guy and stood up, walking unsteadily towards Danny and he wasn't looking Danny in the eyes now, his gaze had drifted towards the floor and he was unconsciously hunched in on himself, like he was trying to hide right out in the open, and Danny had never wanted to see that again.

"Hey!" the guy exclaimed, loud and startled. "Give me your number at least," and he was on his feet, putting himself in front of Rusty, and he might not be touching Rusty, but he had Rusty trapped against the bar, unable to move past him without brushing against him. "Or you can have mine if you like," the guy added, reaching out and playfully brushing an invisible speck of dust from Rusty's chest.

Danny couldn't see Rusty's eyes.

He didn't need to.

Fuck, he didn't even need to think.

Less than a second and he had the guy by the shoulder, hauling him around roughly, and his fist crashed into the guy's face.

The guy staggered back, staring at him in shock. "What the hell?" he demanded. "You got a problem with me, man?"

A crowd had formed instantly, shouting indiscriminately, and Danny's eyes flickered past him to Rusty, and Rusty was being held back, kept away from him.

The guy caught the look. "Oh, right, you got a problem with gays," he sneered disgustedly, stepping forwards and shoving Danny hard in the chest. "You know, homophobic bastards like you should – "

" – I got a problem with you," Danny snarled recklessly, and he grabbed the guy's arm and tried to hit him again but he twisted away.

"Danny!" Rusty managed to get free and he was at Danny's side in an instant, pushing him away, keeping his body between Danny and the dark-haired guy. "Come on. Leave it."

"Oh, so that's it?" the guy said, loud and incredulous and maybe just a little hurt. "Yeah, you just let your boyfriend take you out of here. Just FYI, he seemed pretty hot to trot a moment ago. In fact, I'd be willing to bet with another half hour, I could have had me on his knees in front of me, sucking on my dick."

Obviously the guy was lying. Bravado in a barfight. There was nothing behind his words, nothing at all. Rationally, Danny didn't even think that was what he'd been looking for.

But Danny saw Rusty flinch and nothing else mattered.

He threw himself towards the guy, and maybe, just maybe he was ready to commit murder, but immediately his way was blocked by the bulk of the barman.

"Right, both of you. Get the fuck out right now or I'm calling the cops."

Rusty seized the moment of distraction and grabbed Danny by the shoulders and shoved and dragged him towards the door, and Danny could break free if he really wanted, but it would have meant hurting Rusty.

The freezing cold air of the parking lot.

Eyes full of anger, Rusty let him go. "What the fuck?"

Danny's mouth twisted. "I couldn't let – "

The dark haired guy exploded behind them. "You bastard. Just couldn't leave it alone, could you?"

Instinctively, Danny turned and the guy was striding towards him, his fist pulled back, and Danny readied himself to block or dodge or hit back.

The guy swung hard.

Rusty sidestepped quickly in front of Danny.

The fist crashed awkwardly into the side of Rusty's face and Rusty's head snapped back with the impact.

Seconds later and Rusty was on the floor and Danny was kneeling next to him.

"You alright?" he asked quickly, his hand on Rusty's shoulder, helping him to sit up.

"Fine," Rusty said shortly.

Danny turned and glared at the guy who, surprisingly, had backed up a little. "Hey, I wasn't trying to hit him."

Danny continued to glare.

"Yeah, fine, I'll go," the guy mumbled. "Fuck it, you deserve each other."

Danny hoped so.

He looked back at Rusty. "Come on. Let's go."

With a nod Rusty clambered awkwardly to his feet his jaw was set and Danny could see the simmering fury in his eyes. He wasn't surprised. Not like he wasn't angry too. God. Rusty taking the punch for him...Rusty being in that situation in the first place. He wanted to scream and shout and he didn't even know what he wanted to say.

They walked back to the cabin in hurt silence, more space between them than there had been in six months.

Somehow the cabin seemed much colder than when they'd left. Rusty closed and locked the door, giving them as much sense of privacy as possible, and by some miraculous effort, he didn't start shouting immediately.

He crossed to the cupboard instead. "Drink?" he offered with frigid politeness.

"Please," Danny replied, equally formal, equally distant.

He nodded and poured them each a whisky and reached towards the machine to get some ice.

"You should put some of that on your face," Danny said quietly.

He stilled but didn't look round, and he thought for a second about telling Danny it was just a bruise, that really it wasn't bad enough for him to even notice. "Sure," he said instead. He might be angry, but he didn't want to hurt Danny. Not like that.

Carefully not making eye contact, he passed the tumbler of whisky over to Danny and he grabbed some napkins and made a bundle of ice to press against his cheek.

He didn't have to look round to know that Danny was desperate to take the compress out of his hand, to take over looking after him. And that didn't help.

"I am so fucking angry with you right now," he said levelly.

Danny sighed and Rusty could hear the tension in his voice. "You think I could just stand and watch him – "

" – he didn't do anything!" he shouted, swinging round wildly to stare at Danny. "You started a fight for no reason!"

"Not for no reason," Danny snapped, anger bubbling under the surface.

Rusty laid out the truth, flat and harsh and awful. "He didn't hurt me. He didn't even want to hurt me. He was just flirting and you took him apart."

"I saw the look in your eyes, Rus'," Danny began, and Rusty didn't want to know what he'd seen. Wasn't like he couldn't imagine. Wasn't like he hadn't seen that look in the mirror. "I had to."

"You didn't have to." The words fell heavily from his lips.

"Rus' – " Danny sighed.

" – you didn't have to!" he shouted again, and the ice fell out of his hand, and landed unnoticed on the ground. "Fuck, Danny, this the way its gonna be from now on? You going to be gunning for everyone who thinks I look like I'm up for a good time?" He winced as he heard the loathing in his own voice.

"A good time?" Danny repeated, his mouth twisted, and Rusty could see that Danny had picked up on the self-hatred.

"Leave it," he said tiredly.

Danny nodded. "How about you?" he asked in a low voice. "You gonna throw yourself in front of every stray punch that comes my way?"

Rusty shook his head quickly. "We're not talking about that."

"Really?" Danny snorted, and the anger was alive in his voice. "And who put you in charge of what we get to talk about?"

Rusty glared at him. "I don't let people hit you. That hasn't changed."

Danny glared right back. "I don't let people hurt you. Period."

And that wasn't fair. That hadn't been what was going on."He was – "

" – I know," Danny said, his voice thick with anguish. "Fuck, you think I don't know that? I don't care what he thought was going on. I care what you felt was going on."

The raw honesty in Danny's voice was hard to deal with. The anger bled away.

"I should be able to deal with this better," he said, turning away from Danny. Six months. For fuck's sake, he should be able to sit with a guy in a bar and not completely lose his fucking mind.

Danny stared at him. "Rus'..." He sighed. "You are dealing with this better. You want to think about how much worse this would have been six months ago?" No. No, that wasn't something he wanted to think about. He would have fallen apart and he damn well knew it. "Don't...you can't obsess over what you can't do."

"I didn't even realise he was flirting, Danny," he admitted in a low voice. "He was standing at the bar and I walked up behind him, and he smiled at me and asked me to settle an argument. Asked me what the perfect mix for a margarita was. I...we got talking. He was...funny. He made me laugh." He'd felt relaxed at first. Relaxed and happy and the conversation had been light and sparkling. And now, thinking about it, he just felt so stupid. "I really didn't realise he was flirting, Danny. Not until he started touching me."

"And when he did?" Danny asked gently.

There was a long pause. "I wanted to see if I could deal with it," he lied at last.

Danny looked at him patiently.

He closed his eyes briefly. "I froze up," he admitted, ashamed. The moment he'd felt the hand on his, the moment he'd understood the guy's intentions, had seen the way the night was supposed to go, he'd felt trapped. Panicked. He hadn't been able to find it in himself to just walk away.

"Oh, Rus'," Danny said, and he laid his hand gently against Rusty's cheek. "'s okay. Really, it's okay."

"Yeah?" he snorted. "Case you haven't noticed, seems like neither of us can cope with me being hit on. You don't think that's gonna be a problem in the future?"

"I shouldn't have hit him," Danny admitted quietly, his hand still pressed to Rusty's face, comforting both of them. "It was wrong and it was stupid. But I saw him with you and I saw your face, and I saw..."

Yeah. Rusty knew what he'd seen. Everyone who'd hurt him. All the names Danny wanted. All the names Danny must never know.

"I was angry," Danny said, his hand dropping to his side. "That doesn't go away, Rus'."

No. No, Rusty didn't suppose it did. Probably it never would. And he knew that not knowing, not being able to do anything about it...he knew that killed Danny inside.

The last embers of anger turned to cold ash. He caught Danny's hand in his. "Don't do it again."

"You forgive me?" Danny asked with a soft smile.

"It was never about forgiveness," Rusty said with a shrug. "I'm angry. But I understand."

Danny nodded, his eyes distant.

"Just...don't do it again," he pleaded again. "I need to...we both need to learn to deal with these things."

"Yeah," Danny agreed tiredly. There was a long pause. "You wanna sit down a minute?" Danny said eventually, pointing to the sofa.

Rusty looked at him for a moment, recognising the tone of voice. "Danny...I'm not gonna stand and watch you get punched. That's not..." He gestured awkwardly. "That's all me. Us rather. And I wasn't looking to get hit, you know? Plan was to shove you out of the way and duck. Turned out that he was faster than he looked."

Danny listened patiently to the explanation. "I know that, Rus', really. I'm angry but I'm not...I understand."

Huh. He looked at Danny thoughtfully as he sat down and Danny settled next to him. "What, then?"

"What you said about looking like you wanted a good time. And a few months ago you said...you suggested..." Danny's face was creased with distaste and he was struggling to get the words out.

"Hey." He laid his hand on Danny's briefly. "Whatever it is, I'll assume you don't agree, okay?"

Danny smiled at him, but the smile faded almost immediately. "You said that there wasn't a difference between what happened in prison and your love life before."

Oh, God. He didn't remember saying that. Must have been while he was lost in the middle of a flashback, or whatever. He hated that there were things he didn't remember. Gaps missing out of his head and it frightened him.

And what he'd said to Danny...that frightened him too.

"'s not actually...I mean, rationally I know that back then, no one hurt me, and that I didn't hurt anyone or...or force them to do anything they didn't want to do."

By the look of horror on Danny's face, Danny hadn't even considered that aspect of it.

He hurried on quickly. "But when I think back...it feels the same. I mean, the physical acts..." He swallowed hard, telling himself fiercely that the feeling of nausea was all just in his head. "I've done...that...before and liked it." He finished in a rapid whisper. "And I've done it to other people too."

"It's not the same," Danny said fiercely. "God, Rusty, you can't even – "

" – I know," Rusty cut in. "I know, Danny. Like I said, rationally I know all that." He shrugged and stared blindly down at the carpet. "I can't help the way I feel."

Danny reached out and lifted Rusty's chin with his thumb, turning Rusty to face him. "Rus'. What happened to you was wrong. It was obscene. And it had nothing to do with sex."

"It had something to do with sex," Rusty objected.

"Not sex the way it should be," Danny told him firmly.

"Should." He moved away from Danny and leaned back against the sofa with a sigh, looking up at the ceiling. Danny had always cared about what should be, and mostly the real world was nowhere near. "They knew I was gay, you know."

There was a long silence.

"You're not gay," Danny pointed out slowly.

He grinned darkly. "My own personal sexual identity wasn't really relevant. They knew I was a fag, that's all that mattered."

He heard the sharp intake of breath and winced. Danny had heard him called that before, of course. He remembered that time in the back of the truck with Matthew Brigstock. Wasn't like tonight was the first time Danny had lost it defending Rusty's honour.

"Don't even know exactly how they found out," he added, moving on quickly. "There was no one there I knew, but I guess someone must have known someone who knew me. He was behind it, I know that. He mentioned a couple of names from way back...Used to tell me that he knew I liked it. He always insisted that there was no difference..."

"He wouldn't know the truth if it walked up to him and stabbed him through the heart," Danny said savagely.

"I know," he nodded. The reality Moffatt offered...he'd left that behind. "I know. But when I remember having sex...with anyone...it feels the same. Feels dirty and it feels wrong, and it scares me. It's like...everything, my whole life, has been overwritten. There's nothing they didn't touch. It frightens me, sometimes."

"Rus'..." Danny reached over and his arm was lightly around Rusty's shoulder, offering comfort, offering love, offering the world.

With a sigh, Rusty leaned back against him, and here at least was something that Moffatt had never defiled. "I've got you," he murmured.

"Always," Danny promised hoarsely.

He closed his eyes and basked in warmth and compassion and forever.

"I just wish sometimes I could forget," he said softly

Danny lay awake and stared at the ceiling and thought about the evening. He was tired, but he hadn't come anywhere close to sleep.

Hearing Rusty talking about his past like that...it made Danny feel sick. There was no truth there at all, and he could only hope that with time and patience, Rusty would come to realise that.

The rest of the night they'd drank and watched old movies and they'd hardly talked at all, but that had been alright. Anger was exhausting, and he'd been glad to get to bed. Just that he wished he wasn't alone.

Hadn't been his idea. In fact, if it had been up to him, he'd have followed Rusty to bed, not wanting to let go, not wanting to be alone, but Rusty had paused in the bedroom door, looking back at him, and he could see the desire in Rusty's eyes.

Lately Rusty had wanted more space. More independence, Danny supposed. And that was perfectly understandable, but after the night they'd had...wasn't just in the last six months they'd started needing each other, after all.

It had been an awful night. And after all that, he hadn't told Rusty that David had called. He bit his lip; he needed to tell Rusty. Personally, he'd rather give Tess her money back and leave David to get himself out of whatever catastrophe he'd fallen into, but he knew Rusty wouldn't go along with that. And he couldn't keep this from Rusty. No matter how tempting it was.

An almost inaudible noise, and he looked towards the door quickly. That had been...soft footsteps creeping across the landing and his bedroom door was slowly pushed open.

He smiled and without saying a word, he pulled the comforter back, and Rusty crept into bed beside him.

Rusty was shaking slightly.

Danny pulled him close. "Nightmare?" he murmured.

"Yeah," Rusty agreed. "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

"Wasn't asleep," Danny assured him. "And it wouldn't matter if I was asleep, you know."

"Going to bed alone and waking up with me wouldn't bother you?" Rusty asked sleepily.

"Never has before," Danny pointed out. He brushed his hand through Rusty's hair. "Want to talk about it?"

"Cupcakes," Rusty said softly. "And greasy mashed potato."

Danny waited for a second, but nothing more was forthcoming and he held Rusty tighter, and he didn't need to understand the answer. "Let's go see Saul once we get back," he said softly. "We can drive down the coast. Make it a proper road trip. Not like there's any hurry..." He yawned. "I know you've got a list of all the best places to eat between New York and St Petersburg."

"Pancakes," Rusty told him seriously, sounding on the very edge of sleep.

Danny grinned. "Exactly," he agreed, kissing Rusty's hair lightly. "Pancakes like in that little place that was sandwiched between three bars, remember? I don't even remember where that was." Rusty would know, but Rusty didn't answer. "The waitress was a suppressed writer, remember? She was writing a novel in her pad...every time we wanted another order, it'd be half an hour before she actually stopped scribbling long enough to listen. But those pancakes...I have to admit, they were the best I ever tasted. And I thought you were gonna give up trying to figure out how to steal the deposit box in favour of figuring out how to steal the batter recipe."

He whispered old stories until they were both asleep, safe in each others' arms.

Rusty woke up with a silent cry of pain and instinctively he tensed, pulling his leg up against his chest, his arms tucked uncomfortably against his hip, and it hurt, and he bit his lip hard and didn't make a sound.

It was maybe a half hour before he heard the sounds of Danny getting up, obviously trying not to wake him, and he lay perfectly still, listening to the sound of the shower running, his fists clenched tight, trying to manage the pain, and by the time Danny came back into the room, towel drying his hair vigorously, he was almost on top of it.

"Planning on staying in bed all day?" Danny asked cheerfully.

"Depends what's for breakfast," he answered lightly.

Danny laughed and Rusty smiled at him, and the smile didn't fade until Danny had left the room.

Gingerly he stretched his leg out, wincing at every movement, as he slipped out of bed slowly, his jaw clenched tight as he got to his feet.

Was definitely worse this morning. He sighed. Would be better when he got up and moving. Probably better still if he soaked it or something.

He limped through into the bathroom before there was any chance of Danny coming back.

For a moment he stared at the bath. Tempting, but he thought about yesterday and he wasn't so sure he'd be able to get back up again. And fuck, didn't that hurt to admit?

Shower seemed like a safer option and he awkwardly clambered into it, turned the water up as hot as it could go and trained the shower jet on his hip, his hands pressed against the tiles, holding him up through the pain.

Eventually the bathroom was full of steam and the pain had mostly faded to a stiffness and a dull manageable ache, and he stumbled out of the shower, reaching for a towel.

Somehow, he couldn't quite lift his leg high enough, and his foot caught on the edge of the shower, and he pitched forwards, desperately reaching out to try and save himself, and his arm, caught the mirror above the sink, sending it smashing into the shelf below, and he hit the ground amid a crash of broken glass.

Danny was standing over him, practically before he'd had a chance to so much as blink, let alone get himself up off the floor.

For a moment Danny stood in the doorway, staring down at him, his eyes wild, terrified and unreasoning.

The bathroom...he was naked...broken glass...

"I fell," he assured Danny quickly, and Danny was gazing at him, desperately searching for truth, and Rusty met his eyes, trying to offer comfort and reassurance, trying to hide the pain. He struggled to get up and he had to bite his lip to choke back the cry as he felt his hip buckle under him.

"You're hurt," Danny said, and a little of the fear had vanished from Danny's eyes, replaced with worry and concern, and then Danny's arms were around him instantly, helping him stand, and he leaned on Danny, let Danny take him back to his room, getting him seated on the bed.

"It's your leg?" Danny asked, looking across Rusty's body, and for once, Rusty doubted that Danny even saw the scars.

"My hip," Rusty nodded, fighting to keep the pain locked inside. "Think I jarred it when I fell."

Danny paused in his examination. "You jarred it when you fell?" he repeated. "But it was already sore, wasn't it?"

He nodded shortly.

"The skiing the other day..." Danny started, and trailed off, staring at Rusty's face. "No. It wasn't that."

"I don't think it helped," he offered quietly.

"But that's not why you're hurting," Danny said, biting his lip. "Oh, Rus'...Wait a minute, okay?" He made to stand up and Rusty laid a hand on his arm.

"We don't have any painkillers," he reminded Danny quickly.

Danny nodded unhappily. "Good point." He squeezed Rusty's hand tightly. "This – "

" – think it's the cold," he admitted. "Least I think that's what started it."

"The cold?" Danny asked, frowning.

"Few years ago I got...hurt," Rusty began reluctantly. "My hip was dislocated. There was other damage too, I think. Tendons or cartilage or..." He bit his lip, remembering the doctors standing over his bed, well out of arms reach despite the handcuffs. "I don't know, Danny." He admitted miserably. "When I was in hospital I heard the doctors say something but they didn't actually talk to me...hell, they didn't look at me. And I guess I just wasn't paying attention."

Danny's eyes were dark and he squeezed Rusty's hand again. "And it's hurt since then?"

"Not all the time," he assured Danny quickly. "Mostly its fine. But I remember a few times it ached...mostly in winter." He looked at Danny and shrugged and smiled. "I never made the link though. Was always plausible I'd...hurt it again."

Danny took a deep breath and it looked like he was making a herculean effort not to comment on that. "Okay. So how do we make it better?"

Rusty sighed. "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" Danny asked.

"You have the look of a man who is thinking about buying tickets to Hawaii," he explained with a grimace.

"Actually, I was thinking of the Bahamas," Danny said lightly, but he wasn't kidding.

Rusty sighed. "Danny. We're finishing the job."

"It's not that important," Danny argued. "We got nothing tied up in it. There's no reason we can't walk away right now."

"I don't want to," he returned immediately. He didn't want to let his frailties affect them like that. "Honestly, I think if I just rest up for a bit, it'll be fine."

Danny looked at him for a long moment. "Okay. You're supposed to be showing Lewis around the ski slope this morning. I'll do that while you stay here and rest up. And if it's no better by then, we leave."

That hadn't exactly been what he'd had in mind. He frowned.

Danny caught the look and gazed at him evenly. "If you prefer, we can talk about the fact that you've been hurting for the last couple of days and didn't tell me."

Okay. He really didn't want to talk about that part. He shook his head mutely.

Danny's gaze softened. "You can't do that, Rus'. I need to know."

Yeah. Yeah, hiding it had been stupid. Danny did need to know, and not just because Danny was Danny. If things had gone wrong...if he wasn't able to run, he could've got them both killed.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

Danny squeezed his fingers understandingly and stood up. "Alright. The drugstore will be open by now. I'll run out quickly and get some painkillers. Anything else you need?"

"Chocolate?" he requested hopefully.

Danny smiled. "Goes without saying."

Danny waited impatiently for Lewis on the upper reaches of the slope.

He'd left Rusty settled on the sofa with painkillers, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, banana milkshake, and a heatpack pressed against his hip.

Despite Rusty's objections, Danny had stayed long enough to see the tension and pain fade from Rusty's face. Seemed the heat especially was helping, and that was good.

He didn't like to think about the fact that Rusty hadn't told him he was hurt. Didn't like to think about the way Rusty's instincts were moulded to hide the pain, to keep it inside, suppressed and silent. Hell, Rusty hadn't made a sound when he'd fallen, and Danny knew that had hurt. And of course, part of that was just the way Rusty was, but it was more than that now, and he couldn't bear to think of the time that Rusty had spent hurt and alone, forced to keep quiet and conceal his injuries.

And what Rus' had said about being in hospital...God, Danny wanted to kill those doctors. He could imagine Rusty lying alone and ignored in a hospital bed, not even being told what was happening to him. Not considered worthy of being told what was going on with his own body.

At some point soon, he'd have to take Rusty back to see Stan. Maybe there was something that could be done. Something that hadn't healed right maybe.

"Curtis?" He turned in time to see Lewis stalking towards him. "I wasn't expecting to see you here. I was going to meet Charlie...is he coming?" He looked round expectantly.

"No," Danny said, with an impatient grimace. "No, he had a bit of an accident I'm afraid. He was coming home last night and apparently he had a fall on the ice. Little the worse for wear, I think. He decided to spend the morning in bed. Hungover, if you ask me." There. That explained Rusty's absence and gave an explanation for the bruise and the limp if they did decide to stick around.

"Oh." Lewis sounded taken aback. "Well, then, I really don't think – "

" – I have been instructed to show you the slope," Danny said woodenly. "In case you decide you want to buy it."

Lewis looked at him thoughtfully. "And you always follow your client's instructions, I suppose."

"Of course," Danny agreed.

"Look, I've been in this game a long time," Lewis said, with the air of one imparting confidential wisdom. "I know what's what. I've done my research and you're the real deal. But Charlie is a grade A moron and you know it."

Danny raised his eyebrows. "He's still my client."

"But don't you wish you could get shot of him?" Lewis asked. "The way I read the landscape, whatever you do, it's only a matter of time before he loses everything. I would have thought you'd want to be well away before the ship sank."

"It's a point of view, certainly," Danny said, inclining his head, and the gesture might as well have been a conspiratorial wink.

"Why not take the opportunity to make some real money before you do?" Lewis asked.

With an effort, Danny managed to hide the smile. That was what he wanted to hear. Soon as they'd realised he'd have to take this meeting, they'd been figuring out the advantage. By letting Lewis know that Curtis knew that there was a deal on the table...the pot just got a little larger. "I'm listening," he said cautiously.

"First of all, this is legitimate, right?" Lewis checked. "This ski slope. Charlie owns it outright?"

"Yes," Danny nodded. "The documentation is all back at the cabin. If any sale went ahead, it would be available for perusal."

"That's what I like to hear," Lewis said, rubbing his hands together. "Now, the way I read the situation, you're going to advise Charlie to avoid any deal, am I right?"

"Of course," Danny nodded. "It's going to go wrong and you know it. I imagine you've been telling him that you can do the paperwork for a token amount, right? And you'll give him the full sum in cash?"

"Something like that," Lewis agreed.

"You know that won't work," Danny snorted. "Oh, you'll be fine. But he'll be lucky not to get arrested for fraud."

"If he's careful and keeps his mouth shut..." Lewis said with a shrug.

They both laughed.

"Seriously though," Lewis went on. "I'd never have met Charlie if it wasn't for you. With that in mind, perhaps you've earned a finders fee. If you don't interfere with any dealmaking."

"A finders fee?" Danny said slowly.

"I was thinking something in the region of...twenty grand? Sounds reasonable."

"I think a hundred grand has a much better ring to it," Danny said mildly.

Lewis smiled. "Why don't we call it sixty and be done with it," he suggested.

Ha! Rusty had thought they'd settle on fifty. "Done," he said graciously and they shook hands.

"I'll call Charlie to make the arrangements," Lewis said with a smile. "After that, we'll see about your fee. A pleasure doing business with you, Curtis. Perhaps this could be the start of something profitable."

"Let's hope so," he smiled back, and he watched Lewis walk away.

Good. Now he could get back to Rusty.

He had to get the cable car back down the mountain and he waited twenty minutes or so before heading over to the station. Time enough that he could be reasonably certain he wasn't going to run into Lewis.

The cable car was pretty empty, so he was surprised when someone sat next to him. Surreptitiously he turned his head. Red hair. A camera in her hand. A thoughtful gaze trained on him.

The woman from the airport.

He turned away quickly, his heart inexplicably pounding.

"Hi," she said, sounding amused. "Are you really planning on ignoring me? We haven't even been introduced."

He blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"That's alright," she told him generously. "I forgive you anyway."

Startled, he laughed. "You always introduce yourself this way?"

"I haven't actually introduced myself," she returned. "Jessica Parker. And I'm either talking to Danny or Curtis. Which is it?"

Fuck. He didn't react beyond a flicker of mild puzzlement. "I think you have me confused with someone else," he said slowly.

"Someone has you confused with someone else," she agreed.

The cable car lurched and started moving down the mountains. Effectively he was trapped with her. Whatever she wanted.

"You're more handsome without your mask, I think," she said examining him critically.

He tilted his head to one side. "Mask?" he said innocently.

She reached into her camera bag and pulled out a couple of glossy photographs and passed them over to him. Clearly they'd both been taken yesterday. One was him standing at the top of the slope, looking off camera. Looking at Rusty, he knew; he was smiling and his eyes were open and unguarded. Silently he looked to the other picture. Him, Lewis and Rusty standing together. Lewis was looking at him and he was looking at Rusty, and he almost winced to see the expression on his face. Sneering and supercilious. Not the way he looked at Rusty.

He looked up at Jessica. "What exactly are you trying to find out?"

"Right now?" She shrugged. "Your name."

He should give her Curtis' name. It was the only sensible thing to do. The safe thing to do. "Danny Ocean," he said.

"Really?" Her mouth quirked. "Suits you, actually. So, Danny. I'd guess that you're putting on this mask for the not-so-benefit of this guy here." She tapped her finger on the image of Lewis.

"And if that was true, what would you want to do about it?" he asked politely.

"Mmm. You think I should blackmail you, maybe? Say I'll tell all unless you ask me out for drinks?"

He grinned. "Drinks."

Her lips were pursed. "You think I should hold out for dinner and a movie? You could be right." She put the photos away. "The truth is, I have no idea what your plans are for Lewis Hutton, and I care slightly less. The man is a pig."

"You've met him before?" he asked quickly.

"I've...encountered him," she said. "I live here and he visits on a regular basis. I've seen him in restaurants, holding forth on how wonderful he is while harassing the staff, and I've seen him on the slopes, cutting in front of other skiers. It's a miracle he hasn't got anyone killed."

"I see," Danny said neutrally.

"So you see," she said with a smile. "Whoever you are, or whoever you're working for, I really don't care one jot."

"Then why are you talking to me?" he asked her.

Her eyes grew serious and she leaned in very close to him. "Because you're dark, handsome and mysterious. And I want you."

Her face was inches from him, and he didn't move and he didn't break the gaze, and the air was alive with heat and desire.

After a second she leaned back, looking pleased with herself. "So. Not gay then."

His eyebrows shot up. "You thought I was – "

" – well, you are sharing a cabin with a very pretty blond," she said with a shrug. "And you look at him like he's the only person in the world. You can't be surprised that people wonder if you're screwing him. But you're not?"

"God, no," Danny burst out, shuddering at the thought, and his voice was loud enough that people were staring. He pretended he couldn't see and they sat in silence until everyone had looked away.

"You have a problem with that?" she asked, her voice chilly, and she had drawn back, away from him.

He didn't like the hint of disgust in her eyes. "That's the second time I've been accused of homophobia in two days," he noted with a sigh. "No, I don't have a problem with that. Just not with him. He's like my brother." And that was truth, but not the reason why the thought filled him with such horror. Once upon a time he'd greeted any assumptions like that with amusement. They'd even played along a time or five.

"I see," she said slowly, and she was still watching him thoughtfully. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"You weren't to know," he said with a shrug. "'s okay." With a feeling of relief and regret, he realised they were almost at the bottom of the mountain.

"So," Jessica said, passing him a card. "Here's my number. If you want to take me up on my blackmail offer."

He didn't take the card. "Jessica...my life is complicated right now. I'm not sure I can – "

" – I'm not looking for anything complicated," she interrupted. "I'm not offering anything complicated. All I'm suggesting is dinner, drinks and some really fantastic sex."

Oh. He smiled lightly. "Right now, even that sounds complicated."

She put the card into his hand and carefully folded his hand around it. "Give me a call if you change your mind," she said, as the cable car lurched to a halt. "I'm around today and tomorrow. After that, who knows?"

They didn't say another word as they disembarked and his head was spinning as he watched her walk away.

He carefully tucked her card into his pocket. Even if he'd been looking for something, this wasn't the time or the place. He had to get back to Rusty.

The good thing was, he'd managed to get done with Lewis far earlier than he'd expected. Rusty might have acted like he was overreacting, but he didn't like Rusty in pain. Didn't like the reason why. And so when he reached their cabin, he practically ran inside.

Huh. Rusty wasn't in the living room. His brow was furrowed. Maybe Rusty had gone back to bed? That would be understandable. Not wanting to risk waking Rusty, he crept upstairs very quietly and pushed the door to Rusty's room open.

He stopped dead and for a second he couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't concentrate on anything but the panic and the terror and the anger and his eyes were fixed on the cuffs that bound Rusty's hands to the headboard, on the ties that had Rusty's legs spread wide and fixed to the bedposts, on Rusty's unfastened pants.

"You know what I don't get?" Rusty asked, his eyes fixed on the TV, a faint flush of embarrassment and guilt visible on his face. "I mean, anyone can talk to a horse, right? Doesn't matter if the horse is Mr Ed or not. It's the fact that he talks back that makes him special.

Danny stepped in front of the television firmly, and now he was looking at the handcuff keys lying on the pillow within easy grabbing distance of Rusty's right hand, on the alarm clock that had been turned away. "We need to talk," he said, and his voice was trembling.

In an instant, Danny grabbed the key and undid the cuffs, pulled the ties off Rusty's legs, and his mouth was set in a thin line, like he couldn't bear to see this one second longer.

Rusty stood up quickly, fastening his pants, and he could feel the heat in his face. This wasn't exactly his proudest moment.

"How's your hip?" Danny asked quietly.

"Feeling better," he said honestly. After an hour or so with the heatpack, the pain had eased, and he'd felt comfortable enough to push himself.

Danny looked round the room and shuddered, and Rusty didn't even know what he was thinking. "Let's go downstairs," Danny said abruptly, and Rusty nodded and followed Danny downstairs, rubbing his wrists.

"Let me see," Danny said, noticing without even so much as looking round, and Rusty submitted, holding his arms out. Danny took his hands, inspecting them carefully, turning his hands over, and the abrasions were hardly visible, but Danny still looked at them like they hurt him. "Oh, what have you done to yourself, Rus'?" he whispered as he carefully pressed ice on them.

He swallowed hard. "Handcuffs," he explained. "Or being tied up generally. It frightens me. And I need to get over that."

"Rus..." Danny said, shaking his head.

"Remember back in the parking lot with Bobby? After Carson...after Carson? Bobby had his guy arrest me and you know how I reacted to that. Fuck, Danny, I thought Bobby was going to..." He bit his lip and Danny's eyes were wide and horrified. "If you hadn't been there, what do you think would have happened? And here we are still doing what we do, and you know we could get caught. By the cops or by someone else. Next time, what happens if you're not there? Or what happens if you have to keep all your focus on calming me, and we miss the opportunity?"

"Okay," Danny said, taking a deep breath. "So you need to do this. I can accept that. But why are you doing this alone? You think I wouldn't help?"

"I have to do this alone, Danny," he said softly.

"You had to tie yourself to a bed in an empty house?" Danny demanded, and Rusty could hear the fear in his voice. "Where did you get the cuffs?"

"Back in New York," he said quickly.

Danny nodded. "Is this the first time?"

"No," he said, his voice quiet and ashamed. Fourth time, actually. He sighed. "I started off just cuffing my hands together. Set an alarm for five minutes time and turned the clock away, so I couldn't know how long there was to go." That five minutes had seemed like a year at least. He'd thought the alarm clock must've broken, and he'd been sobbing. When it had finally gone off, his hand had been shaking so badly he'd barely been able to get the cuffs off. "As long as I keep the key next to my hand its fine."

"It's fine," Danny repeated. "You tying yourself to the bed when you're alone is fine?"

"Danny..." He sighed.

"Anything could have happened. Suppose..." Danny hesitated. "Suppose the TV had caught fire."

He blinked. "When's the last time you saw a TV catch fire?"

"Doesn't matter," Danny said, his jaw clenched, his voice brimming with fear and frustration. "It could happen."

He suddenly realised that it wasn't just fire Danny was worrying about. Danny was imagining someone else walking in. Seeing Rusty tied to the bed and exposed. Seizing the opportunity to have a little fun. And of course, Danny would never want Rusty to have to think of that himself.

But he had already thought of that. Of course he had. Every time he did this, he'd imagined it. Dreaded it. But he knew he was being paranoid.

"Oh, Danny," he said, reaching up and resting his hand tenderly against Danny's cheek.

"You shouldn't do this stuff alone, Rusty," Danny said, and his voice was cracked. "You don't have to. You never have to."

"I had to," Rusty told him, looking him right in the eyes. "It wouldn't have worked otherwise."

"Why?" Danny demanded.

Rusty swallowed hard but didn't look away. "Because I'm not scared if you're here."

For a long moment they just stared at each other.

It was the truth. If he was going to get over his fears, he had to actually be afraid.

He could see the agony on Danny's face at the idea that he couldn't help Rusty. "I'm – "

Moving quickly, he lightly placed a finger on Danny's lips. " – hush," he commanded. "You really want to apologise for making me feel safe?"

Danny smiled. "No."

"No," Rusty agreed.

"But I don't want you doing this again," Danny added quietly.

He looked at Danny for a long moment. "I need to get over this, Danny."

"I can wait downstairs," Danny argued. "Or even outside. But I'm not leaving you alone." Danny's eyes were determined and he meant every word.

Helplessly, he found himself smiling. "Alright then," he promised. He shook his head. "So, did Lewis go for it," he asked lightly, feeling the need to change the subject.

Danny grinned. "Sixty thousand dollar finders fee. If I don't talk you out of the deal."

Sounded good. "He must really want that slope," he commented. "Gotta wonder why. I mean, is he really planning on skiing down it completely on his own, over and over again?"

"Like someone riding alone on an empty rollercoaster," Danny suggested.

Rusty shook his head at the mental image. "Man needs friends."

"Drink thieves don't deserve friends," Danny said adamantly.

"Nah, drink thieves just don't have friends," Rusty argued, sitting down on the sofa with a slight wince. Okay. Tying his bad leg to the bed post might not have been the smartest idea he'd ever had.

"Put it up on the sofa," Danny told him, already walking into the kitchen and sorting out another heat pack.

With a sigh, Rusty obeyed. Seemed like Danny was determined to make a big deal out of this. "So what happens now?" he called. "With Lewis, I mean."

"He's gonna phone you," Danny said.

"So we've got nothing to do until he does?" Rusty checked with a sigh.

Danny stopped what he was doing and turned to face him. "We still haven't agreed if we're going on with this."

"Danny, I'm doing much better," he pointed out patiently.

"You're still hurting," Danny said quietly, bringing him over the heat pack.

He pulled his pants off and pressed it against his hip and it felt good. "It's better," he argued. "What, you want me to spend the rest of the day on this sofa?"

"It's a start," Danny told him.

He looked at Danny for a second and nodded. "Well, we're gonna need pizza. And see what's on the TV."

Danny threw him the remote and reached for the phone.

The day went by fast with pizza and movies and red wine, and they stayed comfortable in the living room as the sun went down.

"I'm sorry," he said softly as Men In Black came to an end and the credits rolled.

Danny didn't look round.

"I've scared you twice today," he went on. That was twice too many and he could still see the look in Danny's eyes when he'd been standing in the doorway.

"Tess called while we were in the bar yesterday," Danny said, his eyes fixed on the TV. "David came by the house looking for you."

He froze. "Huh," he said slowly. He didn't even know how he felt about that. It had been a long time since he'd seen David. "Tess say what he wanted?"

"Not really," Danny told him carefully. "Maybe he's just looking to catch up. See you for your birthday."

Rusty laughed incredulously. "Yeah. I doubt it." He loved Danny's optimism, but that was really pushing it. David hadn't really been a part of his life for a very long time now. He figured he'd seen David five times in the past decade. And maybe Rusty still thought of the older brother who bought him a hotdog and took him to the park to see a meteor shower, but the idea that David was looking for him to wish him a happy birthday...yeah, that wasn't going to happen.

Danny nodded and looked at him sharply. "He doesn't know about – "

" – not unless he's talked to someone in the past few years," Rusty interrupted levelly. David hadn't exactly been anywhere near the forefront of his mind when he'd gone to prison. Maybe if he'd had a number for David that actually connected, or an address that was actually up to date, he might have let David know. But he hadn't.

"Guess he hasn't seen anyone who'd have let him know," Danny commented.

"Or he just didn't mention it to Tess," Rusty pointed out, and he suddenly realised what was wrong with this picture. He bit his lip. "Did Tess lend him any money?"

"No," Danny said immediately.

Uh huh. Rusty looked at him patiently.

"Five hundred," Danny admitted with a grimace.

He nodded. "I'll pay her – "

" – we'll pay her back," Danny corrected simply. "Already said I'd go into the bank when we get back."

Right. "Next time you speak to her, tell her I'm sorry, will you?" he asked. His brother was borrowing money off Danny's ex-wife, and that just felt wrong.

"It's fine," Danny said, and he looked at Rusty carefully. "He left a number."

"Bet you were trying to figure out if you could get away without telling me that, right?" he asked with a grin.

Danny shrugged. "I couldn't. I know that. It's around here somewhere..." He stood up and looked around for a moment and eventually grabbed a beer mat from the kitchen.

Rusty reached out his hand to take it and blinked. "There's another number on your hand," he pointed out, surprised.

"That's something else," Danny said immediately, snatching his hand back and immediately scrubbing the ink off until it was nothing more than a blue blur.

Huh. He watched Danny's face carefully, and Danny shook his head, minutely not inviting any more questions. Right. He let it go for the moment. He looked down at the beer mat instead. Cell phone number.

"No time like the present, I guess," he said lightly, pulling his own phone out of his pocket and dialling the number.

By the tension on Danny's face, Danny wasn't exactly sure he agreed.

The phone rang for long enough that Rusty began to suspect that David just wouldn't answer. It wouldn't be the first time, after all.

"Hello?" a voice said at last, sounding cautious and suspicious.

"Hi David," he said, leaning back on the sofa. Somehow, suddenly, he felt absolutely exhausted. "It's Rusty."

"Who...oh, Rusty. I was just thinking of you the other day," David exclaimed.

Uh huh. Presumably when he needed something. "Heard from Tess you were looking for me," he explained. "So what's up? How have you – "

" – oh, yes, I'd forgotten," David interrupted, talking over him. "I was in a spot of trouble. Thought you could help. But luckily I bumped into an old friend and he sorted it for me. So it turns out I don't need you at all."

"Well, that's good, I guess," Rusty nodded. "How are – "

" – listen, Rusty, I'd better go," David interrupted again. "Got a lot on right now. Don't have time for chit chat, I'm afraid. I'll see you around."

"O – " The phone went dead. " – kay," he finished dully.

Danny casually dropped a hand on his shoulder and Rusty sighed, relaxing into the comfort of the touch. Somehow, every conversation he ever had with David left him feeling eleven years old again.

"He in trouble?" Danny asked.

"Nah," Rusty shook his head. "Sounds like someone else already got him out of it."

Danny squeezed his shoulder gently and didn't say anything.

Rusty swallowed hard and swiped a hand across his face. "Wanna watch more Mister Ed?" he suggested.

Rusty was asleep, which made it the perfect time for Danny to make a phone call. Even better, it was only just after ten, which made it a lot less likely that he was in imminent danger of pissing them off.

He glanced at his phone thoughtfully, trying to decide which of the twins to call. Trouble was, whichever he settled on, the other one would get angry.

Personally he didn't understand it. Not a problem they'd ever run across. Except, he supposed, people generally tended to call one or other of them. Bobby, Linus and Basher always phoned Danny. Saul, Livingston and Frank always called Rusty. Okay, maybe everyone else alternated, but he never got annoyed when people called Rusty instead of him. Huh. He had a feeling he was going to wind up noticing who called who now. Terrific.

Virgil, he decided at last, for no particular reason at all.

The phone barely rang once before it was answered. "Hello-o," a voice sang.

Turk's voice. Huh. Oh, well. "Hi, Turk, it's Danny," he said.

There was the sound of a scuffle and shouting in the background. "Is that my phone? Give me back my phone, dickweed!"

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, it's only Danny," Turk yelled back.

Only...? Huh. He was hurt.

"Sorry about that, Danny, "Turk crowed into the phone. "Virgil has a girlfriend."

"Really?" He grinned. "What's she – "

He was interrupted by the sounds of a further scuffle and more shouting, and he waited patiently until there was silence.

"We got that sorted?" he enquired mildly.

"Yeah, you're on speakerphone," Virgil told him.

Huh. That almost counted as a compromise. The twins must be mellowing.

"But it's just us here, so you can say what you like," Turk added.

"Unless there's something you don't want to say to Turk," Virgil cut in quickly. "Since you called me."

"Yeah, well, I answered," Turk argued.

"Gentlemen," Danny said with a smile, and there was instant silence. "I'd prefer to talk to both of you."

"Okay. What do you need?" Virgil asked.

"Want you to source a car for me," Danny told them nonchalantly.

"Any particular car?" Turk asked.

"1967 Mustang. Blue, for preference. In as good condition as you can get," he said.

"Isn't that – " Turk began, and there was a muffled sound that might have been an elbow digging into someone's side. "Right. Yeah. We can do that. You want us to throw in the bullet hole?"

He grinned. "Not necessary."

"How legal do you need it?" Virgil asked briskly. "And what's the budget?"

"Not bothered," Danny told him. "And I don't know...how much did we get from Benedict again?"

Turk snorted. "Won't be that much."

Yeah. He didn't think it would be. But he wouldn't care if it was. "Whatever it costs plus whatever you think is reasonable for yourselves."

"You don't need to –" Virgil protested.

" – Birthday present," he explained simply. "I do need to."

"Yeah, okay," Virgil conceded. "We'll get right on it. And we'll give you a call when we've got one."

"Thanks, guys," he said smiling. "Talk to you later."

"Bye, Danny," they said in unison, and he could hear the squabble starting as he hung up the phone.

Well that was that taken care of at least. He slumped down on the sofa with a sigh, wondering if it was the right thing to do.

Not like it had escaped his notice that Rusty got very quiet every time his birthday was mentioned. Thing was, he couldn't bear the idea of not making a fuss.

Six months after they'd met, they'd crashed a surprise party to follow a mark, and he'd got around to asking Rusty when his birthday was.

"Huh?" Rusty blinked, distracted momentarily from his perusal of the plates of cupcakes. "Oh. January 22nd."

Danny stared. "That was five months back," he pointed out, thinking back furiously, and obviously he knew they hadn't done anything, but he couldn't remember Rusty saying anything, couldn't remember Rusty showing any hint he'd seen. And he didn't remember Rusty getting any cards or phone calls either. "You should have said something."

Rusty shrugged uncaringly. "It's just another day, Danny. I don't bother with it."

He thought about everything Rusty had hinted about the last few years and he bit his lip. "You celebrated when you were a kid though, right?" he asked anxiously.

Rusty glanced at him, frowning. "It's just another day," he repeated. "It doesn't matter." Danny thought that he could cope better if Rusty was being pragmatic or stoic or whatever, but instead Rusty sounded genuinely puzzled. Confused as to why Danny was asking.

He took a deep breath. "It matters, Rusty," he said simply.

Two months after that, his birthday was greeted with a clumsily wrapped bottle of whisky, a pair of designer sunglasses, dinner at his favourite restaurant, and an uncertain smile.

Four months after that, and he'd whisked Rusty away to the most expensive hotel in the city, and he'd taught Rusty the joy of birthday cake, and unwrapping presents, and he still remembered the look of wonder on Rusty's face, still remembered the laughter as Danny had threatened to sing at him, still remembered late at night, reading the silent question in Rusty's eyes and answering it with two simple words. "It matters."

And it still mattered.

Quite simply, there was no way he could let Rusty's birthday go unmarked.

"Happy Birthday," Moffatt whispered as he sat down next to him, companionably shoulder to shoulder...The flicker of candlelight. "Time to make a wish. Just put your lips together and blow"...his soul was crying as Moffatt handfed him crumbs of cupcake..."I wanted to share it with you. Birthdays matter you know,"...unconsciously he licked the last of the creamy frosting off his lips, and he could taste vanilla and Moffatt was smiling...

...a shift in tone. "I've got a surprise for you. You'll like this."...The rustle of shiny wrapping paper. The smell of rubber."Make you feel inadequate?" he asked and Moffatt's face darkened. "Reminds me of Mr Felding," he said, and Rusty was going to pay...Clothes ripped off...pain. Pain and violation...Moffatt's voice panting in his ear. "Enjoying your birthday present, dear? Just think. I can keep going like this for hours"...his head was full of screaming...Flipped onto his back, the taste of rubber and shit overpowering the vanilla, and Moffatt between his legs, thrusting long and leisured...his lungs were on fire and he couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe, and he was choking round his birthday present, and Moffatt wasn't stopping and his lungs were on fire and...darkness. Peace.

...Moffatt's frightened eyes on his...pressure inside him, pushing into him...late at night, his own fingers scrabbling inside himself...retching like he was never going to stop...laughter from the surrounding cells...sniggers and stares...limping across the cafeteria and they were taking bets...greasy mashed potato, Moffatt's hand on his thigh. "I'm inside you now. You like it."...the doctor's face...shame...A chaste kiss, Moffatt's lips on his...Happy Birthday...

The phone was ringing. He snapped awake, his fist pressed against his mouth and he was shaking. That had been...the nightmare was getting worse. Same one, over and over again. Except more detailed. More real. Even now he was suffused with shame and disgust, and he could still feel...still taste...

He grabbed his phone and blinked down at it stupidly. It wasn't ringing. Oh. Not his phone. Charlie's phone. And that meant it was Lewis calling and he needed to take that. He grabbed the second phone and concentrated on Charlie. How he sounded, what he said. The way he didn't dream horrors. "Hello?" he said brusquely. "You're talking to Charlie. Who is this?"

"Charlie, it's Lewis," Lewis said, his voice oily and ingratiating. "I don't know if Curtis told you, but I saw your slope today - sorry you're indisposed, incidentally – and I have to say I'm very interested."

"Yeah?" He did his best to sound excited and his fist was twisted tightly in the blankets. "You want to buy it? Curtis said it was a good idea."

"Indeed," Lewis agreed. "Thing is, I'm leaving town tomorrow afternoon, so it would need to be done quickly."

Before Charlie had any time to look for other buyers, he registered, and the sound of blood was still pounding through his head. "Tomorrow morning then," he suggested. "You can come over here."

"No, I don't fancy walking around with that much cash," Lewis said. "You come over to my hotel."

Apparently Lewis had no problem with them carrying that much money. Oh, well. "Shouldn't we negotiate first?" he pointed out, and his heartrate was easing off now, and that was something at least. Made thinking easier.

"Oh, I don't think so," Lewis said contemplatively. "I'll pay you one million dollars. How does that sound?"

Sounded just fine to him. Charlie wouldn't be so pleased. "It's worth ten times that!" he objected at once.

"Not to you," Lewis pointed out, a smirk in his voice. "To you it's worthless. You can't sell it without a buyer willing to pay cash under the table. Of course, if you'd rather just leave it..."

"Alright," he said sulkily. "You've made your point, I'll take it." When selling imaginary property, the price was far from important.

"One million in cash," Lewis confirmed cheerfully. "I'll draw up the contract to say I'm buying the slope for, oh, let's say fifty dollars? I'm sure your ex is welcome to that."

"Her head will probably explode," he agreed, with the air of a man taking comfort in the misfortunes of others.

Lewis chuckled indulgently. "You come round to my hotel tomorrow. It'll take me until noon to get the cash together, so anytime after that."

"Alright then," he agreed. Sounded fine to him. He just wanted out of this conversation, really. "See you then."

"I look forward to it," Lewis said, ringing off.

The phone slipped out of his fingers and landed on the floor. He took a deep breath, practically gulping in oxygen. Seemed like he'd got away with that at least, even though the nightmare was still clinging to him. Actually, focusing on Lewis seemed to have helped. He got a mark phoning him every time he had a nightmare he might just be set.

He glanced over at the other side of the bed. Danny wasn't here and really, Danny should know about Lewis as soon as possible. And that was a pragmatic decision for the sake of the con that had nothing to do with the fact that he wanted Danny...yeah. He wasn't even fooling himself with that.

Carefully he got out of bed and was pleasantly surprised to realise that other than a little stiffness, his hip felt just fine. The day of rest and warmth had apparently done him good. Absentmindedly pulling his t-shirt sleeves down to his wrists, making sure as much of him was covered as possible, he padded across the landing to Danny's room.

Huh. Danny wasn't there. In fact, the bed hadn't been slept in. Well, he supposed it must still be early if Lewis had been calling him, and he had gone to bed very early too...Danny was probably still downstairs.

He headed downstairs quickly and was immediately comforted by the sound of the television coming from the living room.

"You alright?" Danny asked, his eyes searching Rusty's face the moment he walked into the room. "You have a nightmare?"

"Yeah," he said, falling gracefully onto the sofa beside Danny. "And then Lewis called. We're on for tomorrow."

Danny dismissed Lewis with a look. "You okay? Want to talk about it?"

"Nah," he said, shaking his head with a tired smile. He didn't want Danny to know. Didn't want to see the grief in Danny's eyes. "Just more memories, that's all."

With a reluctant nod, Danny accepted that and he knew Danny wouldn't push him. "So, tomorrow?" Danny asked, just as his phone rang. "Huh. Lewis." He glanced at Rusty significantly and Rusty muted the television and stayed very quiet. "Lewis. Nice to hear from you. Yes...yes...well, I'm glad you're pleased...I'll be there...uh huh...no problem...see you there, Lewis." He hung up the phone.

Rusty looked at him enquiringly.

"I'm to sneak off with Lewis after your meeting to get the finders fee," Danny said with a grin.

Perfect. "Wine?" he suggested, and Danny reached down silently and produced a bottle and poured him a glass.

Huh. "Chocolate?" he asked innocently, and Danny reached behind them and grabbed a paper bag off the table and threw him a couple of Hershey bars.

"Anything else?" Danny asked, his eyes dancing with laughter.

He glanced at the TV. "Marilyn?" he suggested, and Danny picked up the remote and the opening to 'The Seven Year Itch' filled the room.

The meeting with Lewis went like clockwork. Probably helped that Lewis was in such a hurry to get them out of there – apparently he was catching a flight to Houston at two. Some conference that his tardiness would apparently ruin.

Still, Lewis had the money and the contracts, and they had the titles, and Charlie signed the contracts with ill-grace and took possession of the briefcase of money with a noticeable lightening of mood. "This is more like it!" he proclaimed jubilantly.

"And your wife can't touch it," Lewis told him, signing the contract with a flourish and passing it over to Danny to add his name as a witness.

"Even better," Rusty grinned as Danny signed. "Oh we need to celebrate. Champagne all round, I say. You sure you don't have the time, Lewis?"

Lewis' lip was curled with contempt. "No. No, I really must be going, so if we're done here...?"

"You all finished, Curtis?" Rusty asked boisterously.

"Yes, yes, I think so," he nodded, picking up his empty briefcase. "We'll get out of your way, Lewis. Pleasure doing business with you."

"Likewise," Lewis returned, shooting him a look that was full of significance. God, Lewis made a lousy conman. Still, he returned the meaningful look as they left.

The door was still ajar as Danny headed down the corridor and he grinned at Rusty and said "Oh, I think I left my pen in there. I'll see you downstairs, Charlie."

"Yeah, no problem," Rusty said, in a more normal tone of voice, and he smiled at Danny and headed for the elevator.

Danny walked back into Lewis' room, smiling. "I thought that went rather well, didn't you?"

"I get a private slope for a song, you get sixty thousand for doing nothing...I'd call that satisfactory." He laughed. "For everyone except Charlie, that is." He pulled out a second briefcase and passed it over to Danny.

Danny opened it to see more money. Good, good.

"How long do you reckon it'll be till his wife gets the lot off him, do you reckon?" Lewis sniggered. "If I had to guess I'd say he'll be flat broke before the year is out."

"Probably," Danny agreed with a grin, transferring the piles of cash from Lewis' case to his own. He caught Lewis looking at him curiously. "I figured Charlie might get suspicious if I walk out with a case I didn't have before." And Rusty had figured that Lewis might get suspicious if Charlie didn't get suspicious,

"I wouldn't count on it," Lewis chortled. "The man's an absolute moron. I'd feel bad for him, but honestly. Some people are so unpleasantly stupid they deserve to lose their money, don't you think?"

Danny grinned. "I couldn't agree more," he said.

He caught up with Rusty downstairs and Rusty smiled at him, and they said nothing, falling into step, in comfortable silence until they'd deposited the money at the bank.

"So that's that," Danny said with a sigh. "What do you say we head back to the cabin, pack up and get out of here?"

"Might as well," Rusty nodded. "We – "

He was interrupted by the sound of Danny's phone beeping. He glanced at it. Picture message from Turk. He opened it and smiled to see a very familiar looking car, with the simple words "Got it."

"Anything interesting?" Rusty asked, his face alive with curiosity.

"Yeah," Danny said simply, and Rusty groaned with frustration as he put his phone away. "Come on. I'll buy you a hot chocolate before we go."

"In the circumstances there'd better be marshmallows," Rusty muttered sulkily.

Danny grinned and walked towards the coffee shop and nearly collided with the woman walking out of it. "Excuse me...oh!"

It was Jessica.

He smiled with a hint of apology and a little regret. "Hi," he said quietly.

"Hello, handsome," she smiled. "No mask today, I see. How's everything with Hutton?"

He could feel Rusty's eyes on the side of his face. "Just fine," he said lightly.

She sighed melodramatically. "I don't know...you'll spend time with a weasel like that, but you won't even call me. A girl can be hurt by that sort of thing."

He bit his lip. "I told you I wouldn't."

"I know, Danny." She looked at him and shook her head. "I should have gone with the blackmail option after all," she commented. "Give me a call if you change your mind. Tonight could be the best night of your life. Or at least the most...invigorating."

She blew him a kiss and he watched her walk away.

After a moment, Rusty cleared his throat. "Come on," he said, taking Danny by the arm and leading him inside.

Moments later and Danny was sitting down, staring into his coffee, trying to persuade himself that the tight feeling in his chest wasn't regret.

"That was the woman who was standing next to you at the airport," Rusty commented quietly. "I noticed you noticing her at the time."

"Her name's Jessica," Danny told him. "I bumped into her yesterday. On the cable car. We got talking."

"She knew about Lewis," Rusty said, and there was an edge to his voice.

Danny shook his head quickly. "She doesn't know anything, really. Think she thought we were cops or PIs or something. She saw us with him and without him and managed to spot the difference."

"Right," Rusty put his hot chocolate down on the table, and studied Danny carefully. "So why haven't you called her?"

"Because I don't want to call her," Danny said mildly.

"Yes, you do," Rusty said softly.

Oh, that wasn't fair. He wasn't even sure how he felt, so how could Rusty be so certain? And yet if he was operating off instinct..."Yeah," he agreed. "But it's more complicated than that."

Rusty bit his lip uncomfortably. "Danny...if it's because of me..."

"No," he said immediately, and they could both hear the lie. Because yes, of course, that was a consideration. He didn't want to trigger Rusty's insecurities, but more than that, he didn't think it was exactly a good idea for Rusty to be confronted with the fact that Danny had a sex life, or wanted one. He still thought about Rusty offering himself to Danny, still remembered Rusty's hand on him, and the blank hell in Rusty's eyes. The last thing that he wanted was to give Rusty any reason to be uncertain.

"It's not you," he said again. "It's not just you."

There was a pause and Rusty was looking at him. "What, then?"

Danny sighed. "I don't know if I'm ready. You know the last time I had sex with a woman who wasn't Tess?"

"New Years Eve, 1993," Rusty answered promptly.

Danny turned to stare at him. "Rhetorical question, Rus'," he pointed out with a sigh.

"Sorry," Rusty said insincerely. "You don't feel ready to date, though? Danny...'s been eighteen months. Maybe this is something you need to do."

He glanced back down at his coffee. "I don't know."

"You like her," Rusty persisted. "Don't you?"

"Yes," he admitted.

"Look, I'm not suggesting you spend the rest of your life with her," Rusty said slowly. ""I'm just saying that maybe one night isn't such a bad idea."

"Huh." Danny frowned, and he didn't know.

Rusty reached across the table and laid his hand lightly on Danny's. "Danny.. don't do this. You're shutting yourself off from the world and it's not good for you." Danny blinked, staring up at Rusty incredulously. Really? Rusty gave a half-smile. "Exactly. I know,Danny, and I don't want you to hurt yourself. If not here...if not her, that's fine. But don't deny the possibility altogether."

He sighed. "I ever mention how much I hate it when you talk sense?"

Rusty grinned. "I'm celibate. I'm not stupid."

"You think I should go out with her?" Danny asked.

"Do you want to go out with her?" Rusty countered.

"Yeah," he admitted at last. He did. He really did.

"Okay then," Rusty said with a shrug, as if it was just that simple.

""But we're leaving town, remember?" Danny pointed out. It wasn't going to be possible and that was a relief. "We need to clear out of here before Lewis realises he's been conned."

Rusty shook his head quickly. "Lewis is going to that convention in Houston. He won't be able to check anything till he's back. We can stay another night."

"I lost her number though," he said, and now he sounded a little regretful.

"303-402-1927," Rusty answered promptly.

He looked at Rusty for a long moment. "Huh." That was the last of the reasons he had not to call.

"I'll go get us some more drinks," Rusty offered quietly.

He waited until Rusty had walked away, and then pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialled the number. She answered almost immediately. "Hi, Jessica, it's Danny. I – "

" – Changed your mind?" she asked, a sultry smile in her voice.

He grinned. "Yes, actually. Am I too late to take you up on it?"

"Mmmm," she said thoughtfully. "Let me think now. I have to admit that I'm not used to being called at the last minute." Her voice was teasing and full of warmth.

"Well, I'm all about the spontaneous," he said, smiling. "Last minute plans are often the most exciting."

"Exciting, huh? Sounds like you're giving yourself a lot to live up to," she said, her voice soft. "Think you can handle it?"

"Think you can?" he shot back, amused.

"I think I'm willing to give it a try," she said. "So what do you think? Dinner?"

"Know any good restaurants?" he asked. She was the one with the local knowledge.

"One or two," she allowed "What do you like?"

"Lots of things," he told her. "You pick. Surprise me."

"Mmm," she mused. "How about The Baby Grand?"

"Sounds..." He considered. "Piano-y."

"You said you liked lots of things," she pointed out. "Eight o'clock?"

"I'll see you there," he promised.

"I look forward to it," she said. "Until tonight?"

"Until tonight," he agreed.

He sat perfectly still for a long moment, staring into space. What exactly had he gotten himself into?

Rusty lay back on the bed and waited for Danny to come out of the bathroom.

Getting ready for a date had apparently got a little more difficult in the past eight years or so. It was almost enough to make him wonder if he'd misread the situation. Maybe Danny was a whole lot more serious about Jessica than he'd thought.

"Did I pack my other shirt?" Danny yelled through to him.

He grinned. Or possibly this was just nerves. When Danny had first been seeing Tess, clothes had been nowhere in his mind.

"Which other shirt?" he called back amiably. "The one with – "

" – no! The other other one," Danny clarified.

Right. Shaking his head, he stood up leisurely and searched through the wardrobe. They both packed light but...ah. Navy blue shirt.

He draped it casually over his arm and walked out of the bedroom. The bathroom door was a jar and Danny's arm reached out and grabbed the shirt. "Thanks."

"Can I get you anything else?" he asked, grinning. "Tuxedo? Top hat? Pearl necklace? Glass of whisky?"

Danny made a rude gesture at him.

He grinned and headed back to the bedroom and jumped back onto the bed, bouncing a couple of times before landing onto his back. With a grimace, he pressed his hand onto his hip. Might have been a bit of a mistake. Maybe he should start being more careful. Start acting his age.

Couple of weeks time and it'd be his birthday. Somehow, his thoughts kept coming back to that.

Birthdays. What a strange idea. He remembered being a kid, and David had taken him to the park in the snow, gave him a baseball and half a hot dog, and told him he was six now. He hadn't exactly understood what that meant, and he'd asked David, and David had just shrugged awkwardly. Far as Rusty could tell, he didn't know either. They'd played catch for a half hour or so, until David had to go play with his friends, and Rusty went home to Mom and her latest boyfriend, and that had been a...fun...evening. When David had finally come home, hours later, he'd glanced at Rusty's black eye guiltily and played eye spy with him for a couple of hours, until Rusty fell asleep. Three days later, Billy Travers had punched Rusty in the mouth and taken his baseball back, and Rusty had figured that birthdays were stupid, fleeting things.

David had made an effort most years after that. At least every second year there'd be something. A not-quite-stale muffin, a packet of chalk, a couple of X-Men comics with the covers torn off...something to make him happy. And then David had left the week before Rusty's eleventh birthday, and after that there had been no more birthdays.

Not until Danny, anyway. Not until Danny came along with presents and cake and happiness, and he hadn't asked Danny what it all meant, but Danny had smiled at him and told him it mattered.

(Moffatt had told him his birthday mattered too.)

Danny appeared in the doorway. "You seen – "

He reached over to the nightstand and threw Danny the cufflinks.

"Thanks," Danny smiled as he fastened them quickly. He lay down on the bed beside Rusty, rolling onto his stomach and regarding him seriously. "Are you sure you're okay with this, Rus'?"

He smiled. "I want you – "

" – not the question I asked," Danny interrupted levelly.

"I told you to call her," he reminded Danny patiently.

Danny propped himself up onto one elbow and his eyes were dark. "You don't exactly have a clean track record on prioritising what's good for you."

He looked at Danny. If he said that he wasn't comfortable then Danny would cancel the date right now. The thought filled him with equal parts warmth and frustration and he didn't want Danny to cancel. "I'm fine," he promised. "Really. " Wasn't like he wanted to know any details, but he was pretty certain he could deal with the knowledge that Danny was on a date. "I'll watch some TV. Go have fun."

"Rusty." Danny's voice was serious. "You won't - "

" - no," he promised instantly. "No handcuffs. I swear it."

Danny contemplated him for a long moment before nodding and getting to his feet. "Don't wait up," he told Rusty gravely.

Rusty grinned and silently bet himself Danny would text him at least three times over the evening

So far Danny thought that things were going well.

He'd got there five minutes before she did. Enough time to relax, to enjoy the atmosphere of the place. Sophisticated, but not stiff. Once upon a time this was just the sort of place that he and Tess would have loved. He bit his lip; Tess was the last person he should be thinking about right now.

With a sigh, he texted Rusty quickly, just to check that everything was fine, and he got a ';)' back in return. Whatever that was supposed to mean.

Jessica walked in at one minute past eight, and sauntered straight over to him. Little black dress, and her hair swept up high and off her face in a way that looked casually, carelessly elegant.

"Hi," he smiled warmly, standing up while she took her seat. "You look fantastic."

There was a suggestion of a pleased smile and her eyes wandered over him. "My. Don't you scrub up nicely? I wouldn't have thought you could get any more handsome."

"You should see me in a tux," he told her gravely.

"I'm not sure the world would cope," she answered immediately. She looked at him carefully. "I was surprised when you called, you know. I'd more or less given up."

"A friend told me I should give it a try," he said, smiling.

She nodded. "You'd better know what you're doing."

His smile froze. "Of course, Jess..." He cleared his throat. "Jessica," he corrected himself.

For a moment she looked at him oddly, but thankfully the awkwardness faded and they ordered wine and talked and laughed. She was a photojournalist, and seemed like she'd travelled more than Danny, which was almost unheard of, but it meant they could talked about the cities they loved best, and he told her about Florence, and wandering around the shops and markets, watching them make pietre dure, drinking espresso and eating gelati in the piazza while the people walked by. Later they talked about the worst mistranslations they'd encountered, and she was giggling as she told him about the sign in the hotel in Czechoslovakia which warned her that since having men in hotel rooms was improper, the lobby could be used for the purpose. "Little public," she suggested, and he laughed. And they talked about the worst airports to get stuck in, and they both agreed that Manila and Luton were bad, but if you had to spend more than two hours in LAX, you might as well write the whole trip off as a dead loss. No matter what you were doing,, at that point it just wasn't worth it.

Food arrived, and she looked from her slow roast pork belly to his venison casserole and promptly attacked his plate with a fork, stealing a mouthful effortlessly.

"Or you could have asked," he smiled, amused, and it was the sort of little, teasing moment that once upon a time he might have shared with Tess.

She shrugged. "Hasn't anyone ever told you? Theft is fun."

"Don't I know it," he said, eying her plate thoughtfully.

"Oh, no," she giggled, shaking her head and pulling her food away from him. "This is all mine."

He smiled endearingly. "Come on, let me have a – " He stopped dead, his eyes fixed behind her. Automatically she turned round, and with an exclamation of triumph he struck, stealing a forkful of pork and a roast potato for good measure.

She groaned. "I don't believe I fell for that," she said, shaking her head. "What sort of man is so convincing at stealing food?"

"A man with years of practice," he told her dryly, and he was telling her about Rusty...nothing serious, nothing private, but the lighthearted, the brilliantly ridiculous...days that they'd travelled to another country just to get to the right patisserie, the look on Rusty's face when he explained about the trouser press and the English muffins, the chicken soup – made from real chickens – that Danny swore could be patented as a cure for the common cold. Stories that were about fun and good times and caring and friendship, and he left out the darkness and the illegal.

Jessica's eyes were soft as she listened. A long time ago, he'd told Tess these same stories.

And she told him about trips she'd had, stories she'd covered...she talked about how strange it was to live somewhere for six months and always be the outsider with the camera, and about how she'd once trekked forty miles across country in two days because the last of her film had been destroyed and she'd needed more in time for the march, and about sneaking out of Belize in the back of a truck with a one-armed beggar named Jesus.

Seemed the conversation didn't pause until the last bite of tarte au pomme was long gone, and they were lingering on amid candlelight and Irish coffee.

"So what now?" she asked.

"Blunt," he approved.

She smiled. "I prefer forthright."

He nodded. "Blunt people normally do."

"I've a wonderful time tonight," she said after a second.

"So have I," he said, and he was almost surprised to realise it was true. Somehow he'd expected this to be much harder to get used to.

"I'm leaving in the morning," she added. "Mexico. I'm doing a piece on rural immigration...I'll be gone six months at least."

"I'm leaving tomorrow too," he told her. "Our job is finished here...probably I'm heading back to New York first, then I don't know. The Bahamas, maybe."

"And you're not looking for anything complicated," she said softly.

"And I can't have anything complicated," he agreed.

She nodded slowly. "I don't want to regret this anymore than I know I'm going to. So in a moment I'm going to ask you back to my place, and I'm hoping you're going to say yes."

"Yes," he said at once.

"I haven't asked you yet," she pointed out dryly.

"I wanted to lose the mystery," he explained.

She smiled. "Let's get out of here."

They did. Danny settled the bill and texted Rusty while she wasn't looking, and the response was quick enough to assuage any guilt he might feel.

She lived nearby. A house on the outskirts of town, beautifully furnished and the photographs on the wall were breathtaking.

She caught him looking at one of downtown Rio as she came back into the room with a couple of glasses of wine, and smiled. "You like?"

"Oh, yes," he agreed at once. "Absolutely amazing. Looks alive."

"I've got some more in that series downstairs," she told him eagerly. "Would you like to see?"

He nodded at meant it. Really, her work was fantastic.

He followed her downstairs into a darkroom. "They're in the back," she called, hurrying around the corner. "I was exhibiting them for a week a month or so back, and I never got round to doing anything else with them."

Danny wasn't really listening. He was staring at the line of photographs, hanging to dry.

"I thought I had a buyer for a while, but all that fell through," she added.

One photograph. He stared at it and the fury was burning through his soul.

"You have any idea how annoying it is to work your butt off, trying to charm someone, and then they just decide they're not...are you alright?" She walked back into the room, smiling uncertainly. "You're being very..." She saw what he was looking at. "Oh."

The photo was of Rusty. Some unguarded, unknowing moment, and Danny could read the physical pain on his face, could see the hellish blankness in his eyes, lost in a moment of pain and misery and bleak memory. Danny had seen that look far too often. Haunted and fragile and vulnerable, and even if it was gone from Rusty's eyes most of the time now, even a second was too long. And the idea that she'd seen it and immediately wanted to take a picture...it was a violation. And worse; he'd liked her.

"I think I should go now," he said woodenly. "Goodnight, Jessica."

"Wait." She stood in front of him, blocking his way. "Look...I'm sorry, Danny. I really, truly am. It's what I do. Something catches my eye...something interests me...I take a photo of it. Simple as that."

"Interests you," Danny repeated, his lip curled.

She closed her eyes briefly. "Bad choice of words," she agreed. "I wasn't trying to hurt your friend. I wasn't trying to hurt you. Most of my photos never see the light of day. Believe me, no one else has seen this."

It wasn't who else had seen it, it was the fact that it existed at all that hurt. Like there weren't enough photos of Rusty out there. Photographs he couldn't control, taken without consent or knowledge.

She reached behind him and grabbed the photograph off the line and thrust it into his hand. "Here. Destroy it. Please."

He looked at her.

"I'll give you the negatives," she went on. "I'll find any other picture I took of you. I'm sorry, Danny."

The photograph was in his hand.

He looked down at it for a long moment, almost choking in the grief. After all this time...after everything that had happened, Rusty still looked like that. God. He wanted Rusty to heal. Maybe he wasn't doing enough. He should be trying Rusty. Should be helping Rusty more. He wasn't enough.

"Here," Jessica said quietly, a pile of photographs and negatives in her hand. "Maybe you should look at this one too."

The photograph on the top of the pile showed Rusty in another unguarded moment, but he was looking at Danny and his eyes were full of warmth and love and joy, and the smile shone out of the photograph.

"I took that two seconds after the first one," Jessica told him softly. "You make him happy."

He nodded, not quite able to speak.

"That's everything I've got," she said. "Destroy them...keep anything you want...it's up to you." She shrugged awkwardly. "You want to look around...search to make sure I haven't kept anything back, feel free."

"You haven't," he said, looking at her with absolute certainty. Now the initial shock had worn off he could hear the absolute sincerityin her promises and her apologies. She hadn't been trying to hurt him or take advantage, and his reaction had probably come as a shock to her. Something to walk back, if he could. "I'm sorry. You've probably got a few suspicions about what I do. Suffice to say, having too many photographs out there is – "

He was interrupted when she leaned forwards and kissed him, and for a moment everything else faded away, and her hands were on his shoulder, and her mouth was soft and warm, and after a second he put his arms around her and she stepped in closer. The kiss deepened. And it lasted forever.

She smiled at him as she stepped back. "I'm going to kiss you very time you lie."

"I'm not sure that's exactly discouraging," Danny told her. "And I didn't lie."

There was a pause and she glanced down at the photos still in his hand. "He's been...ill, hasn't he?"

That probably depended on how they were defining ill. But by the hesitation, by the look in her eyes, she already knew that.

"Yeah," he said softly. "Something like that."

She nodded slowly. "The picture...I've seen that look before." She looked away from purposefully. "I've covered a lot of stories in a lot of bad places. I did this whole thing on survivors a couple of years back...war, crime, natural disasters, RTAs...you name it."

Survivors. Yeah, that was Rusty. He looked at her and didn't say anything. He wasn't volunteering details. And she wasn't asking.

"You've texted him four times tonight," she commented.

Five. But who was counting.

"And you can't do anything complicated." She reached out and took his hand. "You're a very good friend. You know that?"

He opened his mouth, ready to say something light and distracting.

"I left him," he said instead, his voice hoarse. "I left him for four years when things were..." He shook his head blindly. "You can't even imagine." Carson's words were echoing in his head again. He'd let Rusty take the fall for what he'd done. He hadn't even tried to save him. He'd left Rusty in hell for four years. "And then when he came back, I let it go on for so long before I even tried to help him. I...I let him get hurt."

There was concern in her eyes, and she reached out and pulled him close, holding him against herself. "Oh, Danny," she murmured.

For a long time he enjoyed the comfort of the moment as the guilt and pain roared through him, and she kissed him, lightly and tenderly and insistently.

"Sorry," he said presently. "I don't even know why I – "

" – sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger," she interrupted, squeezing his hand. "Have you told him?"

"He knows," Danny said immediately. After all, Rusty had been there. He knew what had happened.

"Does he know how you feel about it?" she pressed.

He hesitated, remembering incongruously Saul's voice. Sometimes people need the words. "I don't think I want him to," he said at last. They hadn't talked about four years ago. Not really. And yes, the weight of the guilt and the regret crushed him a little, but when he remembered what Rusty had done, when he remembered the way Rusty had smiled when he said 'Then I guess we're done'...oh, truth be told, there was still a little anger there and he hated that. And he didn't want to burden Rus' with any of his feelings, let alone risk exposing him to the anger.

"Maybe he's the one who needs to hear about it," she said, still holding him by the hand.

In response, he leaned down and kissed her again, warm and passionate and inviting. A second and her arms snaked around him, and the kiss grew deep and urgent.

"You want to head upstairs?" she murmured in his ear.

Oh, yes. He really did.

Rusty spent the evening looking for something to occupy his time. He watched a couple of old episodes of The Avengers, and found himself wondering just how possible it was to get a hidden message into a set of traffic lights. A long time ago, Danny had suggested that a lot of people would be prepared to do all sorts of things if they thought they were helping a real secret agent. Everyone wanted to be James Bond, right? Might just be worth looking into some more.

He watched two episodes of The Avengers and the opening of Lawn Dogs, though he turned it off sharply when Sam Rockwell got naked, and Danny had texted twice and he smiled and replied immediately both times. Part of him wondered exactly what Danny thought was going to happen? The rest of him knew that if he asked, Danny could think of dozens of things. Hundreds. Enough horrific possibilities that Danny would never let him out of his sight again.

He was glad Danny was dating though. From everything Danny had said, Jessica seemed fun. Rusty thought maybe this would be good for him. Not like he didn't know that Danny still missed Tess. And that was understandable and he thought that maybe Danny always would, but he didn't want that to cast a shadow over the rest of Danny's life. And certainly he wanted them to be sure that he wasn't holding Danny back in any way.

Now all he had to do was hope that Danny had a good time.

After staring at the blank TV for a while, he phoned Saul. Not for any particular reason, just to chat, and somehow he ended up staying on the phone for almost an hour. Somehow he thought that probably left him looking less than manly. Oh, well, not like Saul would ever care.

And now it was coming on for midnight and Danny had texted another three times and by the sound of things he wouldn't be back tonight. Which was good. Honestly. He glanced over his shoulder towards the stairs. Looked...far. Shaking his head, he turned the TV back on and found a channel showing incomprehensible Brazilian soaps and fell asleep to the sound of people arguing about soft ball in Portuguese.

His sleep was restless and filled with vague, familiar dreams, but thankfully he wasn't comfortable enough for them to develop into the full nightmare.

Footsteps. An amused sigh. He struggled out of sleep in time to smile up at Danny as a blanket was carefully draped over him. "Have a good time?" he asked sleepily.

"I told you not to wait up," Danny scolded mildly.

"Do I look up?" he answered.

"Not so much," Danny allowed, absently tucking the blanket around him, and he smelled of unfamiliar soap. "And yes, I had a good time." His voice sounded reflective. Almost wondering.

"'s good," Rusty smiled. "Gonna see her again?"

Danny shook his head immediately. "That was never on the table."

Oh. He didn't want to admit to the guilty jolt of relief that shot through him. Whatever he wanted to think, he really didn't want to share Danny right now. He opened his eyes a little more. Huh. It was still dark. "Time is it?" he wondered.

"Just before six," Danny told him, banking up the fire.

Rusty blinked at him.

"Jessica had to catch an early flight," he explained. "Needs to make a connection to Mexico City at ten."

Oh. "Sorry," he murmured sympathetically. Not the way Danny would want things to end.

"'s okay," Danny said with a crooked smile. "I wanted to get back anyway."

Why...oh. His eyes flickered over to his phone. "Five times," he said, in a voice that was quite happy to call Danny an idiot.

Danny smiled and didn't look like he minded at all. "Figure we catch a few more hours sleep and head for the airport. What do you think?"

"Sleep is good," he told Danny seriously, rolling over and burrowing deeper into the sofa.

He was vaguely aware of Danny's soft laughter as he fell asleep again.

On the whole it had been a good night. He and Jessica had made the most of their time together and it had been breathtaking and fantastic and he could still feel the warmth and the wonder in every inch of his being.

Still, he hadn't been that sorry when Jessica's alarm clock started singing at half four and with kisses and apologies and more kisses, he was bundled first into the shower and then out the door.

He'd taken the photographs with him. They were on the fire now. Burning away to nothing.

Really, he had to admit he hadn't been that surprised to see Rusty sleeping on the sofa. Hadn't exactly been sorry when Rusty woke up enough to talk briefly either. He might have enjoyed himself this evening but the urge to get back to Rusty had never completely faded.

They'd talked and Rusty had fallen asleep again and Danny had laughed and shook his head and curled up on the chair, almost close enough to touch. Everything he'd never meant to tell Jessica was still echoing in his head. Their separation felt a little closer than it had in a long time and it left him on edge and unsettled and disinclined to let Rusty out of his sight.

And still he'd dozed. Exhaustion did that.

A soft gasp and a breathless whimper and he was awake in a moment, his head snapping up and staring over towards the sofa. Rusty was scrunched up on the sofa, arm covering his face, as if even in his sleep he was trying to hide the pain he was feeling.

"No...I don't...get it out."

"Rusty?" He was on his feet and the hand he laid on Rusty's arm was gentle but insistent. "Rus', I'm here. You're alright. Wake up now."

Rusty shrank back, trying to get away from him, his eyes still closed, mumbling something frightened and incoherent and 'Birthday' was the only word that Danny caught.

He carried on trying to shake Rusty awake, making sure he wasn't touching Rusty in any way that Rusty's subconscious could misinterpret. "Rus', it's alright. I'm here and you're safe. I'm here."

With a stifled cry of agony and hatred, Rusty's eyes flew open and he launched himself off the sofa, and Danny caught his wrist just before the punch would have connected.

For a long moment they just stood there, looking at each other, and Rusty's face was inches from his, sickeningly pale. His eyes slid from Danny's face to the wrist Danny was still holding. "Thanks," he said jerkily, and there was a world of horrified apology and gratitude wrapped up in the word.

Danny changed his grip, moving the gesture from restraint to comfort. "'s okay," he said. "You woke up the moment you woke up. Just you woke up frightened."

He could see the relief in Rusty's eyes, and that was understandable. This hadn't been a flashback and Rusty hadn't got lost in his own head, this had just been a normal nightmare. Of course, personally Danny thought a 'normal' nightmare was bad enough.

"Yeah...same one," Rusty said shakily, and his breathing was still to harsh and ragged, and his body was shot through with tension, like he was fighting the instincts that told him to run and hide.

"Exercises," Danny murmured, and Rusty shot him a look, but a second later his hand was flat against his chest and his eyes were closed, and he was struggling successfully to control his breathing.

Danny watched him for a few moments, until Rusty was calm enough to smile and say "You don't need to stare," without opening his eyes. He grinned and went and poured a couple of glasses of whisky, and a while later Rusty joined him on the sofa.

"Better?" Danny asked and Rusty nodded and sipped his drink. "You've been having a lot of nightmares since we got here," he commented quietly.

"Yeah," Rusty said, noncommittally.

Danny nodded. "You think it's because of your hip?" Physical pain. He could see how that might translate to nightmares.

Rusty looked startled then thoughtful, like the idea hadn't occurred to him. "No," he said at last, slowly. "No, I don't think so."

Right. That had been his first guess. He swallowed hard."Is it because of me?" Because he'd dated Jessica, and he'd reminded Rusty that he was a man too, that he might want some of the things that Rusty was afraid of, that he might be just like the man in the bar.

"No!" Rusty said immediately. "No, it started before I even knew about Jessica, remember?"

That was true, and he felt a little easier to hear it, but it still didn't answer his question. "You were talking in your sleep," he said reluctantly. "Said something about birthdays."

The look of horror on Rusty's face told him that he'd wandered far too close to something true.

"In fact," he went on slowly. "You've been being very quiet about your birthday altogether. Rusty, what's bothering you?"

Rusty sighed and looked away. "Maybe it's because I'm gonna be thirty-six. And my hip aches in cold weather."

God. He took a deep breath and laid his hand on Rusty's arm. He could hear the exhaustion and the hurt in Rusty voice. "But that's not what you're having nightmares about," he said, with soft certainty.

"No," Rusty admitted, leaning forwards, his head dropping into his hands.

"Tell me?" he asked softly. "Please, Rus'."

Rusty lifted his hand and for a long moment he just looked at Danny. "I don't want to," he said quietly.

He bit his lip. "Maybe you need to," he suggested. Because Rusty had said it was the same dream. And it wasn't showing any sign of going away.

"It'll hurt," Rusty warned, looking directly at him, and Rusty knew that it wasn't himself that Rusty was worried about hurting. A new revelation that would hurt Danny. Like they hadn't all hurt.

Rusty was still looking at him and he could see the acknowledgement in his eyes and when the voice came it was barely a whisper. "Last year on my birthday, I think I died."

That wasn't what he'd been expecting to hear. That could never be what he expected to hear. Rusty had died? "How?" he managed to ask hoarsely. "Tell me everything." He needed to know everything.

Another sigh and Rusty glanced away. "Didn't even realise it was my birthday, really. All the days blend together after a while. Not like it really makes a difference."

"No tally marks on the walls?" Danny asked, with something that might once have passed for lightness.

"Graffiti is strictly discouraged," Rusty told him. And there would be no end point in sight. The thought didn't need to be said aloud to be shared and understood. Danny could feel the hopeless and the unending. "I was grabbed by a couple of guys. I knew them, they'd been part of his...gang...before. A couple of times. Nothing special about them, the sort that just saw me as an alternative to jerking off, you know?"

This was what fury tasted like. Rusty caught sight of his face.

"Yes, I know, Danny. They raped me. I understand that, don't worry. I'm just saying they weren't the sort to take any initiative. Weren't going to hurt me for the sake of hurting me. It was unusual, and they tied me up and dumped me against the wall in this little room and left me there alone. Fully clothed. And that was really weird. Not the routine."

He nodded tersely, and he could imagine the confusion, the apprehension, and he moved closer to Rusty, offering all the comfort he could.

"He came in maybe about ten minutes later," Rusty continued. "Sat down beside me, shoulder to shoulder like...like you're doing now."

Immediately, horrified, Danny jumped away, and Rusty's hand was on his arm, pulling him back.

"Sorry," Danny whispered.

"Not the same," Rusty said with level insistence. "I'm just saying he was being...intimate, I guess. Friendly." His face twisted. "And then he wished me happy birthday, and smiled and brought out this cupcake with a fucking candle sticking out of it."

"He knew it was your birthday?" Danny asked, frowning.

Rusty shrugged. "He knew all sorts of stuff. And my birthdate would be on my file anyway."

Which suggested that the monster had access to Rusty's file. He didn't let the thought register on his face. "He gave you a cake?" he asked.

"Yeah. Made me blow out the candles too. 's easy. Just put my lips together and blow." There was disgust in Rusty's voice. Blindly he reached out and squeezed Rusty's hand tightly. Soothing, promising god-knows-what, but it didn't matter, because anything Rusty wanted, Danny would get and they both knew it.

Rusty took a deep breath. "Then he broke the cake into pieces. Fed it to me a bit at a time. His fingers were in my mouth, and he was talking to me all the time. Telling me how his sister had got the cake smuggled in for him. That it came from this little bakery he used to go to when he was a kid. The cake...it tasted good Danny. It was fresh and moist and it tasted good. And he told me that he wanted to do something nice for me, cos it was my birthday and no one else cared, and birthdays matter." Rusty's voice cracked on the last word.

And Danny found himself in the unbearable position of having to agree with the monster. "Birthdays do matter," he said unsteadily. "But he...he...he didn't have the right to talk to you. He shouldn't have got to breathe the same air."

For the briefest of moments, Rusty looked amused. "Don't hold back, say what you really think," he murmured.

He didn't want to think about how the bastard had crawled inside Rusty's head. Not like he didn't know all the damage he'd left behind. And they still hadn't got close to the awful place this conversation had started in. Rusty had died... "What did he do then?"

"He got me a present too," Rusty said, with a shrug and a deadened grin. "What's a birthday without presents, right? So stupid. Like the cake and the conversation weren't surreal enough. It was even wrapped in this shiny paper. There was a fucking bow...and he had this smile on his face and he said 'I've got a surprise for you. You'll like this.'"

East coast accent, Danny noted clinically. A breathy, wheedling tone. Wouldn't be exact – Rusty wasn't a perfect mimic or anything - but it would be close. Another couple of details in the jigsaw.

And more than that, he could hear the memory of the heady anticipation.

"He tore the paper off himself," Rusty went on. "Not like he was stupid enough to untie my hands to let me do it. And he held it up. It was this..." He screwed his eyes shut for a second, shame written all over his face. "It was this...rubber toy."

For a second Danny didn't understand and then his mind caught up and supplied the images and the horror and his hand was pressed against his mouth, like he was trying to keep the screaming inside. "He...he..."

Rusty wouldn't look at him, and his cheeks were flushed with humiliation. "I said something stupid. Something about it making him feel inadequate. He didn't like that. Guess I don't need to spell out what happened next, do I?"

No. No, he didn't. Danny could imagine.

"Went on for four hours," Rusty added vacantly. "He must've paid someone to look the other way, I guess. Cos neither of us was where we were supposed to be, and no one ever said anything after."

"Four hours," Danny said, his voice hoarse. Four hours of...of that.

"He wanted to make sure I enjoyed my birthday present thoroughly," Rusty said, his shoulders hunched and his head down.

"That wasn't a present!" Danny snapped, revulsion in the sound.

Startled, Rusty looked over at him. "I know, Danny. Well, it was a present, but not a kindness. He...hurt me...for all that time. And he enjoyed it. Ended up with him on top of me, and while he was...while he was he shoved the present down my throat. It tasted...fuck, I can still taste it, Danny. He kept thrusting...kept looking me in the eyes. I couldn't breathe. I choked, and gasped for breath and struggled and he watched me dying."

There was a special place in hell waiting for that monster. And that still wasn't enough.

"Fucking undignified way to die," Rusty added and he actually laughed, short and dark.

Danny didn't. Rusty had died. Rusty had died. "You sure – "

" – yeah. I think so. Couldn't breathe, everything went dark...I woke up and my chest was bruised and aching...there was a pain in my cheek, like he'd slapped me, and he was staring and there was fear in his eyes." Rusty studied the backs of his hands for a moment. "Only time I ever saw him frightened. But he would be, you see. He knew I would never tell anyone what he did to me. But if I died...people would sit up and take notice. Questions would be asked. Someone would rat him out and he'd be in trouble. Couple more years on his sentence at least."

"He'd be dead," Danny said savagely.

Rusty looked up at him and for a second Danny thought he'd misunderstood. Thought he might actually argue. "Yeah. Well. He didn't know that, did he? Besides. He saved my life."

"He killed you," Danny corrected.

"That too," Rusty nodded.

Seemed as though Rusty was done talking. And that was horror enough and Danny could see how it had overwritten everything, how nightmare and memory had imprinted themselves over every birthday Rusty had ever had and yet...and yet..."What else?" he asked, his mouth dry.

Rusty sighed. "Isn't that enough?"

Yes. God, a thousand times yes. "Is it?" he asked softly. "Sometimes talking stops the nightmare."

"Doesn't do much for yours," Rusty pointed out.

"I can cope," Danny told him dismissively. He wanted to know. Wanted to know what he'd missed.

"You had a nice evening," Rusty said quietly.

"Don't," Danny warned.

Rusty ignored him. "You really want to hear this? You have a nice evening, meet a nice girl, and then you come back and have to deal with my shit?"

He sighed. It had been a while since Rusty had tried pushing him away. "It's not a question of – "

" – I know," Rusty interrupted. "I'm just saying maybe not this and not tonight."

And if that had really been Rusty's reasoning, Danny could have accepted that. Maybe. But he could see the desperate, shamed embarrassment, could see the way Rusty wasn't meeting his eyes. He reached out and brushed his fingers against Rusty's cheek, soft and tender and forgiving, and it was like a signal. The breath was quiet and shuddering, an almost-sob, and Rusty leaned forwards, his face pressed against the crook of Danny's neck, and Danny's hands were on Rusty's shoulders, his grip promising that he wasn't going to let go any time soon.

Rusty spoke, rapid and unsteady. "You saw it in the file remember? Self inflicted...I had to tell them that, Danny. It was awful, but I couldn't tell them about him. Was after the CPR. I was lying on the floor. Couldn't talk, couldn't move...I just lay there and let him do whatever he wanted. He...he put it inside me. My birthday present. And then he walked away."

He held Rusty a little tighter.

"I couldn't get it out. I tried...but then I had to get dressed and get out of there before anyone noticed, and I kept...I could feel it all the time. When I was walking, when I sat. I tried...my cell at night...fingers...felt worse than him...I couldn't stop throwing up, and I could hear people laughing from the next cells."

He pressed kisses down into Rusty's hair blindly, expressing grief and love and misery and Rusty clung to him, and the shaking eased a little.

"Was like something from the little jokey bits you get in the papers, you know?" Rusty said softly. "And everyone knew. Think that might be the worst part."

"They knew?" he repeated, aghast.

"Yeah," Rusty said with a shrug. "Oh, maybe not everyone, but I'd see the little groups gathered together, pointing at me and sniggering. Heard what they said when they thought the guards wouldn't hear...or care. And when they groped me it was all a bit more purposeful."

He could hear the thick humiliation in Rusty's voice, and there were so many people he wanted to kill.

"Couldn't walk properly," Rusty continued, lost in memory. "Tried my best, but I could feel them all staring at me as I walked across the canteen. There were people exchanging notes...whispers. They were making bets, Danny. On how long it would be before I gave in and went to the infirmary."

Danny thought he might just bite through his lip. "Oh, Rus'."

"Should've just placed a bet myself," Rusty said with a laugh, his voice still muffled against Danny. "Least I'd have got something out of it, right?" He sighed. "He sat down next to me. That was a day after and I think he was getting...frustrated. Maybe he hadn't quite thought the plan through." There was a second. "He never thought things through. Everything he did...he overlooked the details."

Danny shivered at the words. Not something he wanted to think of.

"He kept talking to me. Touching me. He wanted me to go to the infirmary. I tried to pretend it didn't bother me, that nothing bothered me. He noticed I wasn't eating, so I sat there, spooning mashed potato into myself..." Danny could feel it when Rusty shuddered against him. "In the end, he was very persuasive," Rusty finished lightly. "And the doctor laughed too, and once it was done, once the guards had got through telling me about all the privileges I was going to lose, I walked out the infirmary and he was waiting for me. He smiled at me. Wished me happy birthday again. And then he kissed me and walked away."

"What's his name?" The voice was low and savage and hate-filled, and it took Danny a second or two to realise it was his.

Rusty sat back, away from him, staring in shock. "What?"

He swallowed hard, but the question had been asked. "What's his name, Rus'. Please."

"I can't tell you, Danny," Rusty said, shaking his head slowly. "You know that."

He knew that. But right now he was listening to the fury in his soul, and he couldn't accept that. "He deserves – "

" – I know what he deserves," Rusty cut in harshly. "And I know what you deserve. And you are never getting near him."

But he wanted...needed...revenge. Everything the monster had done. Every pain and humiliation and violation. Danny had to pay it all back.

Rusty leaned forwards and pressed a kiss against his forehead. "I need you, remember?" His hand was pressed against the side of Danny's face. "Don't you dare leave me for him."

Oh, God. He wouldn't. Couldn't. "I'm – "

" – I know," Rusty interrupted gently. "I know." He sighed and shook his head. "Anyway. That's what I've been dreaming of."

"And why you don't want to do anything for your birthday," Danny added hollowly.

Rusty hesitated. "I don't...it matters to you, I know that."

"I want to make you happy," Danny admitted softly. "Whatever you want is fine for me."

For a long moment, Rusty just looked at him. "I feel better for having told you," he said very quietly. "It's less awful up here." He touched his head lightly. "I think maybe the nightmare won't bother me again."

That was good. No matter how much the story hurt to hear, that made it all worthwhile.

He smiled and Rusty was looking at him again. "What was your plan?" Rusty asked.

Danny blinked. "My plan...?"

"You always have a plan," Rusty told him fondly.

"I was thinking we could take a roadtrip," Danny admitted slowly. "Thought we could start in Salt Lake City. Head down to St Petersburg. The pretty way. Get there in time for – "

" – cake and presents," Rusty interrupted.

Danny winced. "Yeah." He wanted...he didn't know. He wanted Rusty to think about him, not about David, not about the monster. He wanted Rusty to know that his birthday mattered in the right way. "Thought maybe we might see Reuben too," he added, absently. "Just because we can't go to Vegas doesn't mean he can't leave."

"Sounds good," Rusty said softly.

"What?" Danny looked up in surprise.

"I want to move on," Rusty said, his voice sounded determined. "This seems like the way to go."

For a moment Danny couldn't speak. He squeezed Rusty's hand tightly, ignoring the lump in his throat.

Rusty smiled at him then frowned. "Why Salt Lake City?" he wondered.

Right. Danny bit his tongue and then carefully drew his cellphone out of his pocket, opened the message and passed it open.

For a long, long moment, Rusty just stared at it. "This is...Oh, Danny."

"Yeah," Danny agreed quietly.

"Idiot," Rusty said, and his voice was muffled as he flung his arms around Danny. "I don't deserve you."

There were tears on Rusty's face. But the smile was bright like sunshine.

Six hours later and they were sitting at the airport Starbucks, waiting for the flight to Salt Lake City to be called.

An espresso, a glass of pink and white liquid sugar, and they smiled at each other.

Obstacles overcome, marks tricked, fun and laughter, pain and comfort.

Just another weekend.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the chapter, please let me know what you think.