A/N: Another Monday, another chapter. Possibly the last one for a few weeks, I'm afraid. Unsure.

He drove an eccentric route to the address Jacques had given him. However much his instincts were screaming at him to get Danny lying down and with Walt, it was more important to make sure that they weren't being followed. More important to ensure that the safe house would remain safe.

But no matter how much he glanced in the rear view mirror, no matter how many unexpected turns he made, there was no sign of any pursuit.

He supposed that meant that all Patrick's attention was focused on Rusty now.

(Oh, God.)

He glanced sideways at Danny, slumped painfully in the passenger seat, and he resisted the urge to apologise again.

They finally arrived and the building was remarkably nondescript. Nothing to mark it out at all. He supposed that was the point. The basement apartment had its own entrance and he half carried, half dragged Danny down the stairs, and with every soft gasp, every stifled moan of pain, he felt his heart break all over again.

"Nearly there," he promised mindlessly, opening the lock as quickly as he could, praying no one saw them.

"Where's Rus'?" Danny asked, his voice slurred, his eyes glazed over. "Need him. It hurts."

"I know," he soothed. "I know." But he couldn't answer Danny's question.

It was a two bedroom apartment. Clean, impersonally furnished, and most certainly unlived in. He kicked the door to the nearest bedroom open and got Danny into the bed and under the covers with difficulty. Danny was still shivering. Still so cold. He was only dressed in those filthy sweatpants and Saul's coat and when Saul poured him a glass of water and held it to his mouth Danny drank it like he hadn't seen water for a week, and Saul wanted to go find Patrick and...

He bit his lip hard. Not possible right now. Not even close to possible right now.

His hand was on Danny's shoulder, and it was only partly about offering comfort and reassurance. Really, he still needed convincing that Danny was here and safe and with him.

"Danny?" he said gently. "Danny, I'm sorry. I need to know if you have any idea where Patrick took you."

Danny was looking at him, and it was like he was hearing the words but wasn't understanding.

He tried again. "Danny, if you remember anything...anything that will help me find Rusty."

Clarity in Danny's eyes. Danny's hand leaping up and gripping his wrist. "Rusty! Saul, we need to go. 's a house in north Brownsville. Beside the track. I don't know exactly where...Rusty...Patrick was in the back of the van with us. He kept...Rusty couldn't concentrate right. I don't know exactly where. Saul, I don't know."

Saul reacted to the misery in Danny's voice, his arms wrapped around Danny, as close as he could without hurting. "You did good, Danny. I'm going to get Rusty back for you. I swear it."

Just for a moment Danny looked like he believed every word.

There was a sharp knock at the door. He swore and the moment was gone and Danny blinked up at him, dazed and fearful.

Probably it was Walt. Jacques had said he'd send him over. He glanced down at Danny, helpless and hurting and vulnerable, and he grabbed the sharpest knife he could find from the kitchen before he went to answer the door.

He knew for a fact that he wouldn't hesitate to kill to defend Danny.

The knife was clutched tight in his hand as he glanced through the peephole. It was Walt, and Saul felt a surge of relief. "Come in," he said urgently, glancing over Walt's shoulder, needing to be absolutely certain that no one was following and no one could see.

"Jacques said Danny was hurt," Walt said, following him inside, glancing at the knife but not commenting. "What are we looking at?"

More than a week of torture. "He's been badly beaten, there are cuts on his feet, and chest, one of his teeth has been pulled out and his wrist is burnt," Saul explained, his voice hoarse and dull and unfeeling.

Walt was staring at him, and he could feel the horror and the anger there, and two years back Walt had told him that Rusty and Danny were too young to be living this life and Saul had told him that they deserved to live the way they wanted to and Saul had told him that he'd be there to watch their backs.

"God, Saul," Walt's voice was choked. "Are you alright?" The question was overflowing with concern and worry and compassion and knowledge, and Saul couldn't stand it.

"Yes, yes," he said impatiently. Physically.

"I'll take a look at your head after," Walt told him with calm worry. "Looks like you got hit pretty hard."

He'd practically forgotten...

"I take it Rusty's with Danny?" Walt asked, his hand on the bedroom door.

Of course. The natural assumption. It was always the natural assumption.

Saul mutely shook his head. Not quite able to speak.

(He'd let Patrick take Rusty. He'd just stood and watched while Patrick took his son away and he hadn't done anything...)

Walt blanched. "Saul...is he - "

" - no!" Saul said immediately. He went on with difficulty. "Patrick...the man who hurt Danny...has him."

"Right." Walt nodded briefly, his fists clenched, and yet when he walked into Danny's room he was all tranquility and comfort. "Hello, Danny. I've come to take a look at you. Is that alright?"

Danny raised his head sluggishly. "Walt?"

"That's right," Walt agreed briskly, dropping his bag down onto the bedside table. "Mind if I take a look?"

Danny nodded uncertainly.

Walt smiled encouragingly and very gently pulled the covers back. He whistled softly. "Congratulations, you're a mess. But you're going to be just fine."

Saul breathed a sigh of relief.

"Rusty..." Danny said urgently, looking round. "Where's Rusty?"

"Don't worry about that now," Walt said firmly and Saul could almost laugh at the impossibility. "We need to focus on getting you back on your feet."

Danny didn't listen. Obviously. "We have to get him out...the basement...please..." He struggled to sit up, leaning out of bed, and Walt grabbed him and pushed him back down.

"Danny, stay still," he said quickly. "You'll hurt yourself again."

"Lie down, Daniel," Saul added. "I promised you I'd look after Rusty. I meant it."

Danny subsided slightly, but Saul was sure it was only going to be a short reprieve.

Walt evidently thought so too. "I'm going to give you a shot now, Danny. Something for the pain."

"No," Danny said insistently, his eyes shooting wide open again. "No, I need to find Rus'. Don't drug me. Please. I don't want to leave him alone in the dark."

Walt's eyes flickered over to Saul, the hypodermic in his hand and Saul had to repress a shudder on seeing it.

The question was obvious in Walt's eyes.

Feeling like a traitor, Saul nodded his permission and a second later Danny was lying peacefully.

He turned away with an effort. Looking away from Danny with an effort. "I need to go, Walt. You'll take care of Danny, right?"

Walt glanced up, cloth in his hand. "I can, but – "

" – I'm going to get Rusty," he said softly. "I promised."

Brownsville. North and beneath the railway track. A house with a basement. It felt so close.

"Saul..." Walt's eyes were troubled. "You can't handle this by yourself. You need to call someone. The police if you don't have anyone else."

Saul turned his head incredulously. "The police." The police wouldn't help him. Couldn't help him.

"Someone," Walt stressed.

Someone. And Saul wanted to find an army of someones but burning through him was the knowledge that Patrick had Rusty right now, was hurting Rusty right now, and Rusty was alone – in the dark – and Saul had promised Danny.

The phone rang suddenly, piercing and shrill.

He jumped and quickly stumbled out into the hall, unable to imagine who was phoning and he paused with his hand on the receiver, wondering if he should really be answering. Picking it up, he held it to his ear and said nothing.

"Saul?" Jacques voice.

"Jacques," Saul said, relieved. "I can't talk now, I'm in a hurry."

"I'll make it quick," Jacques promised. "I've got Bobby Caldwell downstairs. Says he's looking for you. Says it's urgent. Am I alright to tell him where you are?"

Bobby. And that was good news and Saul felt a surge of relief. "Yeah, tell him," he said, grimacing as he realised. Call someone, Walt had said, and Bobby was the best around and to have the best chance of finding Rusty, Saul would have to wait for him.

God, he didn't want to wait anymore. He wanted to go out there, to find Rusty to put an end to all of this.

He bit his lip. "Give him the address and tell him to get here as soon as possible," he requested. "I'll be here."