A/N: InSilva says I'm tofu...

The first time Rusty went out to con Glen Prentice, Tess ambushed him in the kitchen with a little sandwich bag.

"It's a packed lunch," she said unnecessarily.

He looked down at it wonderingly.

"I thought you might get hungry," she said hurriedly. "And I wasn't sure if you would be able to stop and grab something to eat. I'm sorry, it's - "

" - it's not," he interrupted, and he looked up at her the smile bursting out of him. "Thank you." It wasn't just for the lunch, although that was both unexpected and unexpectedly smileworthy. No one had ever made him lunch like this before, and the simple care and affection in the gesture brought an embarrassing lump to his throat. And Tess had done this because she wanted him to know that she really was okay with what he was doing. And she wasn't, not completely, but he thought that was more to do with her concern for him than for Glen Prentice.

She smiled back at him warmly, and there wasn't a hint of the self conscious hesitation there had been before.

Everything with Glen ran smoothly, and Rusty found it easy to lose himself in the intricate thrill of playing the game. Oh, it had been too long. Not that he regretted a second of the last six months, of course, but he'd missed this. And it was even better, knowing that he was going home to Tess and friendship and warmth and laughter. Throughout the week he found himself seeing things and thinking 'I must remember to tell Tess', where once upon a time it would have been 'I must remember to tell Danny'. It was nothing he'd been expecting, but he liked this friendship between him and Tess. They fit together, somehow, and he'd do anything for her. Friendship, the job, and he was happy. Right now, the only thing that would make his life better was if Danny was here.

It was coming up for three years now. He'd have thought that at some point it would get easier, but the truth was, he missed Danny every day, worried about Danny every day. And he had no one to talk to except Tess, and he could talk to Tess about everything except Danny.

He didn't know what would happen when Danny got out. He just knew that he didn't want to lose either of them. Somehow, Tess had got that important to him.

And he didn't talk to anyone except Tess. Six months ago, he'd stopped answering his phone. Saul had called a few times...and Livingston, Reuben, Eleanor, Frank...and he'd texted each of them back to assure them he was fine, not in any trouble, but he was gonna be unavailable for the forseeable future. No one had come looking, at least. The truth was, mostly people called him because they had a job they needed help with, and at first he'd been unable to even contemplate leaving Tess, even for a second, and then, later, as Tess grew stronger, staying away had simply become...a habit, he supposed. He was sure that Tess would be able to cope just fine if he went away for a few days, but somehow he didn't want to. He'd worry too much, maybe, and maybe he just didn't want to have to try and explain where he'd been these months.

Tess started talking about looking for a job soon after he started working. Once she had a job, he promised himself. Once Tess had a job and was settled, he'd try calling Saul and see what was going on in the world.

In the meantime, the cons kept coming.

He'd never thought of himself as much of a teacher - he wouldn't have thought he had the patience for it for one thing - but he'd promised he would explain what he was doing to Tess every step of the way, and surprisingly she seemed interested, and not just in making sure he wasn't doing anything she disapproved of.

Once Glen Prentice was left smugger and poorer, he moved on to figuring out how to deprive a particularly unpleasant banker of the expensive-but-hideous diamond brooch that was her pride and joy.

"Is this you striking a blow for morality or for fashion?" Tess asked, grimacing at the picture.

He grinned. "Maybe I think it would bring out your eyes," he teased and he laughed at her fleeting expression of horror before she rolled her eyes and called him an idiot.

He spent days pouring over floor plans and schedules, explaining all the little details and ideas as they occurred, and Tess listened and watched and asked quiet incisive questions that led him off in whole new directions. Truthfully, he'd never had to explain himself in this way before. Mostly, Danny already knew what he was thinking, and anyone else either had to keep up or get the highlights later. This was a different way of working. Not better, not worse, but definitely different.

On the other hand, the way that Tess brought him food and demanded he ate it, and cajoled him into going to bed after he'd been up for thirty eight hours, but simply sighed indulgently when he got up again after barely an hour because he thought he might have tracked down the second exit in his head...oh, that felt frighteningly familiar.

But in the end he managed to figure out the banker, and he and Tess celebrated with an impossibly extravagant dinner in a five star restaurant in Hollywood, and afterwards he took on a crooked classic car dealer, an obnoxious theatre critic, a bullying bar owner...the list went on. And Tess knew what they had done and what he would do, and she supported him every step of the way.

Of course, there had always been another option to get money. He might be running through his savings, but there was still Danny's money, lying untouched. And Rusty had access to that money, and Tess had a right to that money, and if Danny thought for a second that either of them needed it...he would want them to take it. Expect them to take it. Hell, he'd be hurt that they didn't.

And still Rusty couldn't. He knew Tess would never want that. Far more than she wouldn't want him stealing.

(And maybe, just maybe, Rusty was too guilty to consider it.)

Tess came in late one night after dinner with Kat, while he was intent on creating a fake resume to get hired in the bar, and after they smiled their hellos and he'd fetched her a glass of wine, she settled down on the sofa and started idly shuffling cards. He smiled to see it; she really had got very good. But then he got distracted by his forgery, and it must have been an hour later that he realised she'd abandoned the cards in favour of some paper he'd left lying around, and she was looking at him intently.

"What are you doing?" he asked curiously.

Startled, she blinked, looking away from him and pulling the paper against her chest. "What? Oh! It's nothing," she said, but the mixture of shy embarrassment and wistfulness in her voice suggested that maybe she'd actually quite like to share.

He strolled over and sat down beside her. "May I see?" he asked, and waited patiently while she considered.

"It's not very good," she told him nervously as she uncovered the paper.

It was a pencil sketch. Of him, clearly in the midst of thought, his fingers against his mouth, his eyes far away. He stared down at it for a long moment, absolutely dumbstruck.

"It's fantastic," he said sincerely, and it was. "But you're seriously flattering me." He'd never looked that good in his life. Oh, he knew perfectly well he was physically beautiful but this...this really wasn't about the physical and it almost frightened him, somehow. It was like Tess had told him exactly how she felt about him with an HB pencil, and it was huge and raw and wonderous and everything he'd normally shy away from.

"You don't like it," she said in a small voice. "I'm sorry."

He reached out and caught her hand. "I love it," he said, looking her straight in the eye, not trying to hide what he was feeling, trying to share everything in his head. "You know I don't lie to you, Tess. It's amazing, I'm just..." He hesitated, searching for the right word. "Overwhelmed," he said at last, his voice a whisper.

She looked down at the picture for a long moment and he knew that she knew what he was seeing. "You saved me, Rusty," she said at last. "I'd had a year with John and sometimes when I looked in the mirror in the morning I didn't recognise the woman looking back. If you hadn't come when I called...if you hadn't found me...if I was still with him..." The tears were falling steadily now, and Rusty could feel his own eyes prickling. "I think I'd be dead by now. In all the ways that matter, at least. You saved me, Rusty. So don't tell me I'm flattering you, because it's just not possible."

He gathered her in his arms, held her close and kissed her as she cried, and she clung to him tightly.

(He tried not to think of Danny)

The next day he bought her a sketch pad and and a set of expensive pencils, and she smiled and thanked him and they said no more about it.

She took up sketching enthusiastically, and for a while the house was filled with drawings of fruit and vases and nearby buildings, and she got some paints and an easel and he had a few of their favourites framed.

Then, one day, he came in to find her sketch pad lying abandoned on the sofa, and when he picked it up he found himself looking straight at Danny.

Oh, Danny. There was a physical pain in his chest.

She'd caught him absolutely. The way his eyes crinkled, the fond quirk to his mouth, love and affection and devotion, and it hurt. Oh, God, did it hurt. This was the way Danny looked at Tess. This was the way Danny should be looking at Tess right now, only Danny had gone and got himself caught, and he was in prison and Rusty was living with his wife.

In his mind, he could see the hurt and bewildered betrayal in Danny's eyes.

He and Tess...they lived together, laughed together. They kissed and held hands, and he'd lost count of the nights they'd shared a bed, holding each other tightly. Might not be a love affair in the strictest sense, but some lines started further back than sex.

Danny would understand the reasons behind all this. Danny would understand what brought them here. But that didn't mean Danny wouldn't be hurt, and that didn't mean Danny could forgive, not Rusty and not himself.

(After all, if Danny hadn't lied to Tess, if Danny hadn't got caught, then Tess would never have met John, would never have been hurt and beaten and broken. Sometimes, when Tess' nightmares left her shaking and crying, sometimes as he lay in the dark he could almost hate Danny for that.)

He supposed he should have done things differently, only he couldn't imagine how. What could he have done? Taken her to some woman's shelter when she called, or just set a few more boundaries, been a little less open, not been quite so quick to offer comfort and affection? He shuddered at the thought. He'd given Tess what he thought she needed, and in return she'd been warm and friendly and funny and...and he loved her.

He could admit that in the privacy of his own head. He loved her, and it was just as bright, just as vivid, just as all-consuming as the way he loved Danny.

Oh, Danny. Sorry.

There was a noise behind him and he turned to see Tess in the doorway, watching him.

With a start of hasty guilt, he dropped the sketch pad, and it tumbled back onto the sofa, the sketch of Danny still uppermost. "Sorry," he said.

She walked up behind him and grabbed the sketch book. "My mind was wandering," she said defensively. "I wasn't...I don't miss him."

He studied her for a long moment, wondering. "Don't you?" he asked softly.

She screwed her eyes shut, and when she opened them again her gaze was intent and sincere. "What I miss...it was all based on a lie, Rusty. It wasn't real."

"Danny did really love you," he said, and then, panicked at his mistake, he corrected himself. "Does love you."

"Then why did he lie?" she asked.

He sighed. "Because he was afraid of losing you. Because he thought you wouldn't understand. Because lying is so much easier."

For a second she looked at him, her head tilted to the side. "Are you defending him?" she asked, and it was a genuine question. She wasn't blaming him for defending Danny, she was wondering if he even was defending Danny.

His arguments lacked the vehemence they should have had. "No," he said, and it killed him inside. "But he loves you. He really does."

"Maybe love isn't enough," she said quietly. She looked down at the picture again. "I do miss Danny. But I miss John too. I think I'm better off without them." She looked up at him. "Can't this be enough?"

Was it? He hesitated. "You know, if you ever did want to try dating again...I wouldn't mind or anything."

She laughed. "I know. But I don't think I ever will." She looked up at him anxiously. "But you know that you can, right? I know you haven't been seeing anyone, but I don't want you to shut yourself away for my sake."

He smiled. "I'll keep that in mind," he said lightly.

"Right." She looked back down at the picture. "Here's to moving on," she said, and she made as though to tear the picture to pieces.

All thoughts of the betrayal in Danny's eyes left his mind; it was just Danny, and he didn't want...he couldn't bear...

He must have made some sound, because Tess looked up at him, staring for a long second. Then she shut the sketchbook, and tossed it down on the table without another word.

Later that night, he found the picture of Danny lying on his dresser. He folded it up very small and tucked it away in his wallet, and tried to forget it was there.

It was about six weeks after Rusty had started working that Tess started looking seriously for a job. For a while the house was full of printed out job descriptions and half filled out application forms - anything in the area that was remotely connected to art - and Rusty made cups of coffee and read over personal statements and tried to do anything that was needed.

"You know, there's no reason you should only be looking here," he told her seriously. "We can up sticks and move anywhere you like. I've got no ties here."

She looked up at him and smiled. "I suppose I could start checking San Francisco as well."

He shrugged. "San Francisco, Chicago, Paris...Tokyo, if you like, though my Japanese isn't the best."

"Paris?" she said softly, her eyes sparkling.

"Why not?" he said simply. "Don't let anything hold you back."

"I won't," she said determinedly, like she was seeing some glorious future unrolling in front of her.

But then the rejection letters started coming in. They were polite and brief and soulcrushing, and with each new opportunity lost, Tess seemed to shrink a little.

"I can't even blame them," she told him miserably. "I've been out of work almost two years with no explanation other than 'personal reasons', and then before that I had all those sick days. They've got no reason to take a chance on me."

Rusty was inclined to disagree. Really, he wanted to go and explain to each potential employer exactly what they were missing out on here. And it was only the thought of exactly how much Tess would hate that which held him back.

"But I swear, if I could just get an interview, I'd be able to show them I can do the job," she went on.

He bit his lip hard.

She looked at him. "I was half expecting you to offer to make it happen," she said slowly.

"I probably could," he admitted with a sigh. "At the very least I could fake you up a job that covered the missing time. But that's not what you want...is it?" He tried not to sound hopeful. He longed for her to say yes, but at the same time he was so damn proud to see her standing on her own two feet after everything that had happened.

"No," she said, shaking her head determinedly, not even hesitating. "No. I'm going to do this on my own."

The smile burst out of him. "That's my girl," he said, kissing her on the forehead. "Come on. Let's order pizza and I'll take a look at those application questions for you."

She finally got an interview almost two months later, in a large gallery in Houston, and Rusty organised flights, transport, a hotel...everything he could think of, and he found a book of the most common interview questions and sat and asked her them on the plane.

She was hopeful before she went in, and she kissed him for luck and he sat and waited, his fingers crossed, and afterwards she was optimistic and enthusiastic, convinced it couldn't have gone any better, and even though he wasn't going to tempt fate, on the flight back he was already considering just what they'd need to do to move.

Three days later she walked into the kitchen, letter in hand, and he could read what had happened on her face.

"They already had someone in mind," she said miserably, reading from the letter. "The vacancy was filled internally...why did they even bother advertising it then?"

"Oh, Tess," he said, standing up and hugging her tightly. "I'm sorry."

"Yes," she said, closing her eyes. "Me too."

Kat came round that night with commiserations and a bottle of tequila, and Rusty ordered pizza and four different flavours of chocolate ice cream, and they sat and ate and drank shots and talked.

"There's nothing worse than job interviews," Kat claimed, sometime after the fourth shot. "Nothing legal, anyway."

"Maybe they should be illegal," Tess said gloomily. "It's so..."

"Humiliating?" Kat suggested. "I remember back when I was still working in sales having this interview with six other people, and the interviewer made us have this balloon debate. You know how that works, right ?You all imagine you're in a hot air balloon that's falling into the sea, and the only way to survive is to throw some people overboard until there's only one left. Designed to prove that you're more of a ruthless, charismatic bastard than anyone else. You should try it, Blondie, you'd be great."

"Thanks," Rusty said dryly. "Just for that, I'm taking the last of the Ben and Jerry's."

"Not a chance!" Tess laughed, grabbing it off the table and hugging it towards her possessively. "Ice cream is a girl's best friend."

He grabbed a spoon a dived towards her, and the ensuing scuffle lasted less than three seconds, before she rolled her eyes and held the tub out towards him.

Kat was watching them with a smile that made Rusty wince. "What were you saying?" he asked politely.

"Oh, yeah," she remembered. "The balloon debate. Wouldn't have been so bad if the interviewer hadn't been sitting there with this look on his face. We were killing each other to get this job - literally. Sort of. - and he was loving every second of it. Just this petty power play."

"Like advertising a job you know is already filled," Tess sighed. "I hate job hunting."

"Yeah," Kat nodded.

"Yeah," Rusty echoed sympathetically.

They both turned on him, amused. "What do you know about it, Blondie?" Kat demanded. "Have you ever even been to a job interview?"

He grinned. "Occasionally, someone wants something that doesn't belong to them and occasionally they hire someone to acquire that something. And when that happens, they tend to want an interview. Or an audition."

"How do you find out about those things?" Tess wondered. "I mean, they're not going to put an advert in the 'Help Wanted' section, are they?"

"Oh, there's a trade maagazine for thieves," he said airily.

For a moment there was a stupefied silence. "There is not," Tess said at last, throwing a cushion at him exasperatedly.

"But maybe there's a market for one?" Kat mused.

"I remember this one guy," Rusty said. "He collected ceramics and was looking for a new piece that had just been discovered. But it was...like you said, Kat. Petty power plays. He sat behind his desk in this massive oak-lined study, and said that he'd give..." He hesitated, stumbling over the fact that he hadn't been alone. "He'd give me the job only if I could steal his wallet without him noticing. Then he poured some drinks and spent a long time talking about how important he was, and how rich."

"So what happened?" Kat asked after a second of silence.

Rusty shrugged. "Thanked him for the booze, told him I wouldn't play his games, and left," he said.

"And his wallet?" Tess asked keenly.

Rusty grinned. "In my pocket," he admitted. "Along with his watch, his keys, his belt and his signet ring." Actually, some of that had been in Danny's pocket. "I cleared out the cash and left the rest for him in his mailbox."

Tess smacked her fist into her hand exuberantly. "That's what I should have done," she declared.

"I doubt it would have been quite the same," Kat said lazily.

Rusty put an arm over Tess' shoulders lightly. "You'll find something, I know you will."

"Something great," Kat nodded seriously. "Something you can really shine in."

"Exactly," he smiled. "And in the meantime, you have us cheering you on."

"Thank you," Tess said, sounding just a little bit tearful as she snuggled closer to him.

"And right now, we have more tequila!" Kat announced triumphantly, producing another bottle.

Kat took Tess out on the town that weekend. Something about a bachelorette party for someone in the class. Tess had seemed enthusiastic about it anyway.

"How do I look?" she asked apprehensively, standing on the stairs and smoothing her dress down. It was deep shimmery green. Long enough and covering enough that he was confident she'd be comfortable, but still sexy as all hell. (He tried his best to pretend he hadn't just thought that.)

"Beautiful," he told her sincerely. "You look beautiful."

She smiled in sudden pleasure, a light blush on her cheeks. "Thank you." She hesitated. "You'll pick me up at midnight?"

"In a pumpkin carriage," he promised.

Her nose wrinkled. "Didn't that turn back into a pumpkin at midnight?"

"Huh." He thought for a minute. "How did she get home then?"

"I suppose she - " Tess began.

" - in only one shoe?" he finished, shaking his head. "That's - "

" - exactly," Tess nodded. "I'll try to keep both of mine."

"Good, good," he said cheerfully. He pulled a cellphone out of his pocket and threw it over. "Here," he said. "Just in case you want to call and get picked up earlier. Or later. Or, you know, somewhere else entirely."

She scowled. "You know I hate cellphones."

"I know," he agreed. "But every now and then it's convenient. It's a spare...got it for a job and then didn't need it. You can throw it away tomorrow if you really like. Just keep hold of it tonight."

"Of course I will," she promised. There was a knock at the door. "That'll be Kat," she said. "I'll see you later, Rusty."

"Have a good time," he called after her.

Suddenly he wasn't so sure what he was going to do with his evening. The house was a lot colder with her gone.

In the end he wound up dozing on the sofa while 'My Best Friend's Wedding' played on the TV in the background.

Tess didn't call, and he headed into town and the bar for midnight. Wasn't exactly difficult to find the party - he just followed the noise and the balloons. He wouldn't have thought this would be Tess' sort of thing, but she was sitting at the table, right in the middle of the conversation, laughing and looking happy.

He smiled involuntarily and a moment later a woman wearing a mini top hat grabbed his shirt. "Are you the stripper?" she demanded.

He blinked. "Not today," he told her.

"Lana, we already agreed there wasn't going to be a stripper," another woman said patiently, turning round to face Rusty. She stared for a long second, looking him up and down. "Although if there was..."

With the ease of practice, he ignored it. "I'm just here to collect Tess," he explained.

"Right." She nodded and turned round and yelled across the table. "Tess! Your eye candy's here."

She looked up at him with a happy smile that quickly dissolved into confusion. "It can't be twelve already?"

"It is," he confirmed, amused. "You want me to come back later?"

"I don't know..." she hesitated. "I didn't want to stay out too late."

A clamour of voices burst out, all obviously eager to have her stay longer, or possibly to have Rusty take his clothes off.

"We were talking about going back to mine," the bride-to-be said hopefully. "Making a night of it. I've got plenty of room and everyone said they don't have work in the morning."

"I know, Julie but..." She trailed off, biting her lip. "I'm sorry, Rusty."

He smiled. "It's fine," he assured her. "Why don't I go get a drink while you decide?"

"Alright," she nodded.

The bar was packed and he had to squeeze his way to the front, trapped between a drunk woman in a feather boa and a solid slab of muscle in an expensive suit. Even then it looked like it could take a while for him to catch the bartender's eye. Ah, well. Wasn't like he was in a hurry. In fact, glancing over his shoulder to where Tess was talking animatedly, obviously right in the middle of some story, he figured he could probably take as long as he wanted. He had a feeling he knew what the answer was going to be.

The muscular guy stepped backwards suddenly, his arm knocking against his glass sending it teetering towards the edge of the bar.

Automatically Rusty caught it.

"Nice reflexes," the guy said, smiling at him appreciatively.

"Thanks," he said, handing the glass back. As he did so their fingers brushed and the guy held on a second or so longer than he really had to.

There was a whole other kind of appreciation in his eyes. "Jake Hatcher," he said.

"Rusty Ryan," he introduced himself.

"So, Rusty," Jake began, his teeth gleaming. "Can I buy you a drink?"

He hesitated for a second, considering, but Jake was very handsome and parts of Rusty's anatomy were busy reminding him that it had been a while. "I'm driving," he temporised. "But you can buy me a coke, if you can catch the guy's eye."

"Shouldn't be a problem," Jake said, grinning. "I own the place."

"Huh. Suppose I shouldn't ask what a nice guy like you is doing in a place like this, then," he said, as Jake signalled the barman.

Jake laughed. "Making money," he told him. "How about you?"

"Came here to pick up a friend of mine," he said, nodding over towards the table. He noticed Tess was glancing his way, and gave her a smile. "But I don't think she's ready to leave just yet."

"Ah, bachelorette party," Jake nodded. "A force to be reckoned with." His tone changed suddenly. "So..." he said, his voice low, his hand resting lightly on Rusty's forearm. "As long as your friend is having fun, is there any chance you don't have any plans for the evening?"

The touch on his bare flesh sent a tingle through him. "Suppose I don't," he said huskily. "Why, can you think of anything?"

Jake leaned in close and whispered exactly what he was thinking in Rusty's ear.

"Mmm." He drank his coke and licked his lips, leaving them glistening. "Suppose I might just be interested in some of that."

"Rusty?"

He jumped. Tess was standing close behind him, looking at him anxiously, her eyes darting between him and Jake. "I think I'm ready to go home now."

Oh. He glanced back towards the rest of the party. They all looked like they were still having fun. "Did something happen?" he asked anxiously, turning towards her quickly, unconsciously turning his back to Jake.

"No...I mean..." She swallowed hard, obviously struggling, and he hadn't seen her look this frightened in a long time. "I just want to leave, now. Please."

"Of course," he said gently. He looked over his shoulder towards Jake. "Sorry," he said with regret. "Guess we'll need to pick it up another time."

"Why don't you give me your number?" Jake suggested.

He nodded and reached into his pocket for a pen.

"No!" Tess blurted out. He turned to look at her in dawning realisation, and she blushed scarlet. "I just...can't we go? Please?"

He nodded silently and threw an apologetic glance towards Jake, who didn't say a word. Terrific.

He didn't say anything until they were sitting in the car. "You said you didn't mind me dating other people," he said as neutrally as he could. In spite of himself, he found he was feeling just a little touch of resentment.

She shook her head miserably. "It wasn't that."

"What then?" he asked, sharper than he intended.

She looked at him for a long moment, as though she was struggling to find the right words. Instinctively he reached out and smoothed his hand through her hair, silently reassuring her that he wasn't angry, that he'd never hurt her. She sighed deeply. "Can't you just find a nice girl?" she blurted out.

His hand froze. Suddenly, he felt cold, the unexpected rejection cutting right through him. She'd never had a problem with him before...but he'd just been Danny's friend back then, he hadn't been part of her life in the same way. "Tess - "

" - no!" she interrupted, staring at him wide eyed. "Oh, Rusty, I'm sorry. That came out wrong." She reached up and took his hand, holding it tightly. "It isn't you," she tried to explain, her voice trembling. "It was...it was..."

"It was him," he said softly, suddenly understanding.

She nodded unhappily, her eyes fearful. "He was bigger than you. I know you're not helpless, Rusty, but if he hit you, if...if he tried to force you...he could hurt you and you wouldn't be able to stop him." Her voice cracked, and she was barely holding back the tears.

He leaned over, his arm around her, soothing her as best he could, and he thought of Jake, and he hadn't read anything like that there, but that wasn't the point. Wasn't really about Jake any more than it was about him. "Not all men are like that, Tess," he said seriously.

"I know," she said unconvincingly. "But he mightbe. He could hurt you, Rusty, and I couldn't bear it." She looked pleadingly up at him. "I don't want you hurt. Not ever."

The desperate concern for him was painful, and he was helpless in the face of it. "Alright," he said, not even sure exactly what he was agreeing to. "Alright." He squeezed her hand gently. "Let's go home."

He lay awake for a long time that night, thinking, and by the time he got up the next morning he'd made a decision. "We need a holiday," he told Tess as he brought her a mug of coffee.

She took it gratefully and sipped at it, her eyes closed, and it seemed to take a few minutes for his words to sink in. "A holiday?" she repeated. "Where?"

He shrugged and thought for a second. "Paris?" he suggested at last. "You seemed enthusiastic about it earlier."

"Paris." She smiled. "When were you thinking?"

He shrugged again. "How long does it take you to pack."

"What, you mean now?" she repeated. "Right now?"

"Yep," he agreed.

She stared at him with a mixture of amusement and bewilderment. "You don't think that we should book flights...a hotel...see what we need...get organised?"

"I am the master of spontaneous travel arrangements," he told her seriously.

"I can believe that," she said dryly. "Okay then. But if we end up sleeping under a bridge by the Seine, I'm blaming you."

They didn't, of course. He got them upgraded to First Class on the flight out with a smile, and the hotel he found - on the Champs Elysee - was small but classy, and their adjoining rooms came with fresh flowers and French chocolate truffles.

"It's wonderful," Tess said contentedly that first night, as they both lay on his bed sipping champagne and eating the chocolate. "It reminds me..." She stopped, her face stricken.

He frowned gently. "What?"

She sighed. "It reminds me of the hotel where we spent our honeymoon."

Oh. "That was Venice though," he said guiltily, and he remembered how long Danny had pored over guidebooks and magazines until he found the perfect place.

"Yes," she said. "It was just the hotel..." She smiled. "Never mind."

They spent a day wandering around the Louvre, and another in the Musee D'Orsay, and Rusty whispered to her exactly which Van Gogh was fake before spending another half hour promising he had nothing to do with it. That had been Le Marc and long before his time. He'd just heard the story.

Other days they simply spent wandering the streets and the parks, drinking coffee outside the little cafe on the corner and watching the world go by.

It was wonderful. And when real life intruded, it jarred him.

He got a text at five o'clock in the morning from Luis telling him that Rico had come down with a bad case of three to five, medium security. And that was going to cause problems; Rico had all the best contacts for getting things smuggled into prison. Rusty used him to get cookies to Danny every month and he had no doubt if Danny didn't get the cookies he'd think something was wrong.

(Like maybe Rusty had ran off to Paris with his wife.)

With a sigh, he settled down to calling everyone he could think of who might be in a position to help. It ended up taking hours. This wasn't going to help his cell phone bill any.

"So you can do it, Tony?" he said, relieved when he'd found someone at last. "Yeah...yeah, just the cookies. Shall we call it five hundred dollars? No problem; the money will be in your account tomorrow. See you."

"Five hundred dollars on cookies?" Tess said from the doorway, sounding amused. "Even for you, that's a bit much, isn't it?"

He froze. He hadn't heard her come in. He turned round slowly and right now, more than anything, he wanted to lie to her.

He couldn't. He'd promised. And that didn't work if he only kept his word when it was easy.

"The cookies are for Danny," he said softly.

Now it was her turn to freeze. She stared at him. "For Danny?" she echoed.

"Yeah," he nodded miserably. "I send him some every month."

"I thought...I thought you said you didn't have any way of getting in touch with him," she said hesitantly.

"I don't," he explained hastily. "Not really. There's no message or anything...just a box of cookies. It's just...it lets him know I'm alright. And that I haven't forgotten him and I'm still waiting for him."

"Oh," she said in a tiny voice.

He took a step towards her. "Tess - "

" - it's fine, Rusty," she said with a bright smile.

"Maybe we need to talk about this," he tried.

"I said it's fine," she repeated. "You were Danny's friend long before you were mine, I understand that."

He wasn't so sure she did. "That's not what this is about," he protested. "How I feel about Danny and how I feel about you...it's separate, that's all."

"It's fine," she said again. "Why don't we just forget it and go down to breakfast."

Unhappily, he did so.

He felt like something important was slipping away from him, and he didn't know how to stop it.