Relationship Matters by InSilva

Disclaimer: don't own 'em.

A/N: yes, yes. Poor neglected fic. *guilty author* Thanks as always to otherhawk for the preread.

Chapter Fifty-five: Visit


Danny stared down at the text message.

"Rusty. I'm out of hospital. Call me."

He'd woken up with vague nightmare dread clinging to him and the desperate need to see Rusty eating through his core being. Grabbing his phone, he'd typed the words urgently and his finger had hovered over the "Send" button but then he'd stopped himself. Reined in his instinct.

He'd meant what he'd said to Rick the previous evening. He wasn't going to run after Rusty and he wasn't going to beg. For who knew how many years, he'd managed without Rusty in his life and he wasn't going to behave ridiculously over someone he'd met barely two months ago. (Just because that someone was…)

Enough.

Blinking hard, he hit delete.


Rusty had offered to fetch breakfast. He'd needed out so badly and even if he was just walking the streets, it felt like freedom. Now, he was nearly back at Larner's and his steps automatically slowed. He gritted his teeth. Weakness. He couldn't allow himself to give into it, not even for a moment, because if he stopped and thought… Rusty swallowed. Not even for a moment. He quickened his pace.

The limo with the tinted windows was a new addition to the side-street outside Larner's. It sat with an air of importance all to itself. Rusty frowned at it. Something out of the ordinary.

Something else out of the ordinary was that there was no one waiting to greet him as he stepped out of the elevator. Rusty's fingers tightened on the bag of bagels as he padded carefully down to Alex's suite. There was no sign of a struggle, no sign of violence but something…

Alex wasn't where he had left him. Rusty stared at the bed. Where…?

A cautious knock at Constantine's door and it was opened by a man he'd never seen before. A suited, booted man who gave him a once-over that reminded him of Ox, a lifetime ago with Tommy Reiss.

"You're new," the man rumbled.

"James?"

Alex's voice from within, sounding strained and concerned and relieved all at the same time.

"You OK, Alex?" Rusty called and he wasn't quite sure what he was going to do if the answer was "No" but he was almost certain it was what James would have asked.

"He's good." Constantine. "Let him in."

The suit stood aside and Rusty walked in to the room to see Alex and Constantine, still in their dressing-gowns with Tony and a man in a three-piece suit. Grey hair. Fifties. And very much in charge. Mr Fitzwilliam. Had to be.

"James..." Mr Fitzwilliam's voice carried authority. Like Carter's did. Impressing without trying and gaining respect without asking for it. "James Gallagher. You're Alisha's replacement."

Alex made a slight squeak of a noise at exactly the same time as Constantine said, "Yes, Mr Fitzwilliam. And James has also proved useful to the operation in other ways."

"Indeed," Mr Fitzwilliam smiled. His eyes fell on the bagels. "I can see that."

There was an element of dismissal in his tone and Rusty saw Alex bridle and then bite back on whatever he was going to say. Apparently fear of Mr Fitzwilliam outweighed loyalty to James. Mr Fitzwilliam turned to Constantine, physically cutting Rusty out of the conversation.

"So, it's good to hear that the auction went well. After the last time. I thought I'd call in to congratulate you personally on regaining control, Constantine. It would be nice to see the inventory paperwork…? When you're dressed, maybe?"

"I could take care of that for you, Mr Taylor," James said softly. "If you'd like me to."

There was silence as if no one could quite believe that he'd spoken. Then Mr Fitzwilliam turned back to him, re-evaluating him.

"Thank you, James," Mr Fitzwilliam said, answering on Constantine's behalf. "We can start now."


The bathroom was big enough to take a wheelchair. Carter had ripped out the bath and put in a shower with controls that were easily within reach. The mirror, though, was above the washbasin and to look into that, Danny had to pull himself carefully upright and grip the rim of the sink.

He was looking into it now. At a man whose life had been turned upside down all over again. Only this time…this time was the worst. His arms and upper body were marked and by the time the wires were out of his jaws and this beard disappeared, Danny was willing to be there'd be scars aplenty.

There were scars enough in the eyes that were looking back at him. Things he'd seen and borne witness to that he'd never forget and never forgive. His fingers clutched at the porcelain as the images of Teresa and Eduardo, maimed and tortured, floated through his head.

"I promise," he whispered blindly to his reflection.

He sat back down carefully in the wheelchair and headed out to the main living area. Rick hadn't surfaced yet but that was OK. Danny could look after himself when it came to finding a milkshake in the fridge. But before that, he was going to start working flat out on the physio programme the hospital had provided.

Revenge. It was a terrific motivator.


By the time Constantine and Alex had dressed and rejoined them in the main office, James had just finished going through the official auction papers with Mr Fitzwilliam.

Mr Fitzwilliam had paid close attention to what James said and even closer attention to James himself. Rusty felt as if he were under a whole new level of scrutiny. He concentrated on keeping James focused and soft-spoken and competent.

It seemed to work. As the Taylor brothers arrived, both of them anxious about him in different respects, Mr Fitzwilliam was nodding with some kind of approval. Rusty took one look at Constantine's face and decided to step out of the way.

"If you'll excuse me, Mr Fitzwilliam, it's time I went down to the auction house," James murmured.

"A very thorough overview, James. Thank you. Constantine, perhaps you could take me through the financials?"


Alex watched James walk away and his heart was racing as it so often did at the sight. This, though, was all about the Mr Fitzwilliam-inspired adrenaline thumping through him. He would swear that the mere mention of the man's name was enough to make him sweat.

This morning had started off so nicely. He'd woken up almost the same time as James and he'd insisted on kissing James's neck and running his fingers over James's shoulders. This relationship wasn't all about sex. It was the little intimate touches that Alex enjoyed bestowing. He wanted to relax James. To offer him security and tenderness first and foremost. Then, when he was completely comfortable, completely secure, Alex could reciprocate some of the mind-blowing. He couldn't stop imagining the look on James's face when he finally let himself go and came. This was a two-way relationship and he wanted James to understand that.

Yes, the morning had begun with kisses and stroking and then James had suggested he run out for breakfast and Alex had told him to hurry back. With James gone, Alex had lain back and fantasised about smooth golden skin and heart-stoppingly blue eyes and a mouth that was made for sin. Right up to the moment when there was a loud knock and Tony had told him that Mr Fitzwilliam had arrived.

Mr Fitzwilliam was better than a cold shower any day of the week. His presence had been demanded immediately and he'd hurriedly pulled pyjamas on and a dressing gown and gone to find his brother.

The visit was unexpected and Alex could see how little Constantine liked it. Presumably, Mr Fitzwilliam could see that as well and presumably, that was the point. They were to be kept on their toes.

When James had reappeared and offered to take Mr Fitzwilliam through the auction, Alex could feel the anxiety rolling off Constantine. Sure enough, when they were left alone, the first and only thing Constantine said to him was:

"He'd better not screw up."

However, it seemed that James had done a good job which was a relief. And Constantine was in full flow, giving the moneys in and out and Mr Fitzwilliam was almost smiling.

The tension seeped out of Alex's shoulders. Things were going well.


Scratching the back of his head, Rick yawned and stumbled down the stairs. He'd slept heavy. Must be all the running round. He found Danny, sheened in sweat and lying on the floor and suddenly he was wide-awake.

"You OK?" he asked, hurrying to Danny's side. "Did you fall over? You should have called me."

"I'm fine," Danny told him. "Exercising."

Rick looked at him doubtfully. "How are you planning to get upright?"

"I'll find a way."

"Sure you will." Rick offered him a hand and helped him up into a chair. "You had breakfast?"

"Thought I'd wait for you in case you wanted to share."

"The gloopy stuff?" Rick wrinkled his nose. "You're on your own there."

He padded off to the kitchen and inspected the fridge. Apart from Danny's food there was just the basics. Milk, bread, butter and a jar of peanut butter. His mouth twisted. He hated peanut butter.

"You thought about what you want to do today?" he called through as he buttered some bread.

"Yeah."

Well, that sounded definite. Good. He was looking forward to spending a little time with Danny.

He wandered back through with a banana milkshake. "So what are we up to? We going bowling?"

Danny's face was deadly serious. "I want to see-"

The knock on the door made them both start.

"Reuben?" Rick wondered aloud. "Carter, maybe."

Danny's eyes held a sudden maybe of a different nature and Rick thought about the name Danny hadn't said and he could taste the bile of anxiety. For a long second, he wanted to suggest not answering the door but the knock came again and that really wasn't a long-term solution.

With a heavy heart, he headed over to the door and opened it only to find himself staring at a man he'd never seen before and a badge.

"Agent Felix Heston. The hospital gave me this address for Mr Ocean. May I come in?"


Heston took the cup of coffee from Rick and thanked him.

"We don't have any biscuits," Rick said with a hint of the sullen and was rewarded with a smile.

"That's OK. It's a little early for me to hit the sweet stuff."

Danny saw Rick bite back for once on the retort – probably because of the badge – and slump down in a chair, arms folded. Heston turned his attention to Danny.

"I really appreciate you seeing me, Mr Ocean. I do understand that you are still recovering but I wanted to pick up with you about what happened. I've got Agent Caldwell's early interview notes but to be honest, they're a little light on detail."

Danny just bet they were. Bobby would have done his best to keep things as vague as possible.

"So, can you take me through events, Mr Ocean?"

"Afraid I don't remember too much," Danny said and he deliberately slurred the words, making the most of the wire still in his mouth.

Heston gave him a sympathetic nod. He seemed warm and friendly and exuded efficiency and that was good and worrying all at the same time. "You want to share what you do know? Let's start at the beginning. You were home."

He'd been at home. He'd been at home with Teresa and Felicity and all hell had broken loose.

"I was having a coffee with…with Teresa. And Eduardo," he added as an afterthought. Somewhere along the line he'd heard and understood the story Bobby had spun to protect Felicity. "And I was by the window when this van pulled up and these men got out."

"How many?"

Six. Six men. Six men he dreamed of, often and violently.

"Five…five or six. No one I knew."

"Can you describe them?" Heston asked quickly.

"Average height. Average build." Danny shook his head. "They didn't look like they were up to any good."

"Because…?"

Danny's fingers knotted together. "Instinct, I guess," he whispered. "You know I was in prison."

Heston nodded.

"You get a feel for things," Danny said softly. "The way things are going to go down. I pushed Teresa into the cupboard under the stairs."

"Yes. We found her coffee cup in there. Mr di Costa…"

"Eduardo wouldn't save himself." He wouldn't. And maybe Tony and the boys wouldn't have left him alone but Eduardo wouldn't even try.

The silence stretched out and Heston broke it.

"So, you felt the men were up to no good and you tried to protect your wife. And the men came into the house…"

Danny screwed his eyes shut and it was a long moment before he could go on. "They started…they… Teresa. They hurther. They… And Eduardo. They wouldn't stop."

"Did they say who they were?"

Yes. "No."

"Did they say why they were there?"

Yes. "No."

"They gave you no indication as to what they wanted?"

Yes. "No."

"They just started in on you all?"

Yes. Yes. Yes.

"They…" Danny took a deep breath. "It felt like they'd made a mistake. They acted like we should know why they were there."

Heston looked at him thoughtfully. "Interesting…"

"Danny's answered enough of your questions," Rick interrupted the interrogation.

"Of course," Heston agreed. "I don't want to tire you out. Is there anything else you can remember?"

All of it. Live and technicolour. Nelson on top of Teresa, one hand wrapped in her hair… Lloyd cutting Eduardo's mouth wide open…

"S'all blurry." Danny's voice was thick with pain and it wasn't anything to do with the wire in his mouth.

Heston looked at him hard as if trying to work out whether or not any of this was faked. Eventually, he drained his coffee cup and smiled.

"Well, we're still investigating who did this, Mr Ocean, but I think you should know we're following up a lead."

"A lead?" Danny said urgently. "What sort of lead?"

Heston immediately became official. "I don't want to say anything at this point in time, Mr Ocean, but please be assured that as soon as we have news, we will be in touch."

It was final, closing the conversation, and Danny's shoulders sagged a little.

"I'll be on my way." Heston got to his feet and handed Danny his card. "Unless there's anything you want to ask me?"

Danny's eyes brightened. "Actually…"


Both Teresa and Eduardo were still on ice. Heston had made a call and now Rick was pushing Danny's wheelchair in through the double doors where Heston and a technician was waiting.

At a gesture from Heston, the technician pulled out a metal drawer and Rick found himself staring down at the white sheet with the body underneath. Teresa. His eyes squeezed shut. If he tried, if he really concentrated, he could still see and feel and smell her. Still remember how good she felt with her legs wrapped round him, how soft her lips were, how smooth her skin was. He couldn't believe she was dead.

He glanced down at Danny, suddenly wondering if he'd given anything away in his face. Danny was smart at reading people, after all. He needn't have worried because Danny only had eyes for Teresa. With a deep breath, Danny reached out a hand and pulled back the sheet.

Teresa lay serenely like she was asleep. Whatever the bastards had done, they hadn't really touched her face. She looked like one kiss and she'd wake up. Danny stared at her for the longest time and then reached out and his fingers brushed the very edges of her hair.

One thing was for certain: Rick had had to insist on the wheelchair and now he was glad he had. He didn't think Danny would have been able to stand upright.

Danny pulled his hand away and offered up a gruff "Thank you" to the Fed.

Heston cleared his throat. "You thinking about arrangements?"

Arrangements sounded like a euphemism that Rick ought to understand but didn't. Seemed like Danny did though.

"I get this wire out of my mouth next Monday morning. I want to lay her to rest on Monday afternoon."


Reuben was walking away from the front door as they arrived back at the house. Words of greeting died away as he saw the strain on Danny's face.

"Went to see Teresa," Danny said jerkily in response to the unspoken question.

Ouch. Reuben's face grimaced in sympathy. He still didn't want to think of that poor kid dead. God knew she'd had a rough enough start to life. Gently, he reached out and squeezed Danny's shoulder. There were no words to comfort only gestures. Danny reached up and grabbed his hand.

There was a loud cough from Rick and Reuben acknowledged him for the first time.

"Danny's had a day of it," Rick said pointedly.

Reuben's teeth set. Rick didn't get any easier to like.

"Let's get you inside, then," Reuben said lightly.


Rick had gone out for groceries and Reuben had made himself a cup of coffee and sat down with Danny. And Danny enjoyed the company and the companionship but he could tell something was wrong: he just wasn't sure what. He sensed that Reuben wanted to say something but coming right out and saying it was an issue. Every time Danny tried to ask him, Reuben would launch into another story about the old days or some escapade that he'd gotten up to with Danny's dad or stories about the least successful attempts to rob Las Vegas casinos. He resigned himself to not pushing too hard. Reuben just needed the right moment.

"So, you saw Teresa," Reuben said at last.

"Yeah."

It had been as awful as he'd thought it would be but he'd needed to. Teresa hadn't been far from his waking and sleeping mind over the long weeks of healing and like he'd started to say to Rick this morning, seeing her was top of his list of priorities.

"And you're healing OK."

"Yeah…" Danny frowned. "I'm doing fine."

Reuben studied his coffee cup and when he spoke again, it was so quiet that Danny had to strain to hear.

"I've got to go back to Vegas."

"Everything alright?"

"I spoke to Dominic. The Xanadu's got a couple of issues that need ironing out. Nothing too much. Just that I need to be there."

Danny's frown deepened. "Then you need to be there. What's the…" Light dawned. "Oh, Reuben…you don't need to worry about leaving me."

Reuben gave a half-shrug of guilt. "I want to be here for you. I don't want you on your own, Danny."

Danny shook his head and smiled. "I'm hardly on my own. I've got Rick."

Reuben didn't seem to hear him. "I'd hoped that by now Rusty would have…but he hasn't…I want you to have people around you who are going to look out for you."

"Rick will-"

"Rick's never-"

The door opened and they both fell silent as Rick walked back in with bags of shopping. He looked from one to the other.

"Rick's back," Rick pointed out.


He'd gone out for provisions and by the time he returned, Reuben looked like he was getting cosy, reminiscing and, judging by the tailend of the conversation he'd caught as he walked back in, no doubt bitching about him. Reuben really didn't like him.

"Staying for lunch?" Rick asked, knowing the answer and not waiting for it. "I'll cook something up."

He took himself off to the kitchen and pulled out tins and packets. He didn't want to hang around down Memory Lane, especially when he himself didn't own a house there.


Guilt was eating at Danny. He hadn't even thought about Vegas calling. Alright, if there were good managers and experienced teams in place, then hotels would run themselves for a while. There came a point, though, when decisions needed to be taken, when all the autonomy in the world wasn't enough.

"I'll be back as soon as I-"

"You take all the time you need," Danny insisted.

He held Reuben's gaze until Reuben slowly nodded. Good. Reuben didn't need permission but if he wanted it, he could have it.

Rick brought in a meal of hotdogs and microwave fries for Reuben and himself together with a pink milkshake for Danny. Danny swore that if he didn't see another milkshake after this, it wouldn't be too soon. Mind you, the way Reuben was studying the fries suggested he wouldn't be ordering them again in a hurry.

"Danny wants to bury Teresa next Monday," Rick said out of nowhere.

"You're going to need help to sort that out," Reuben said immediately.

Danny could see at once where that was headed.

"I'll call Carter," he said simply, cutting that debate off before it started.

"Alright," Reuben said eventually, adding the solemn promise, "I'll be back."

Rick snorted. "You sound like the Terminator." He stared down at Reuben's abandoned fries. "You not eating those?"


Mr Fitzwilliam had spent the day at Larner's both on the auction house floor and behind the scenes. James was needed at the dealers desks but Rusty had the opportunity to note with interest how the Taylors acted around the man. Constantine was definitely on edge, however much he tried to hide it.

Alex wasn't even bothering to hide it. Rusty could almost feel the waves of nerves rolling off him. No doubt Mr Fitzwilliam could as well.

"I'm going to stay for dinner," Mr Fitzwilliam announced within Rusty's earshot as James dealt with a customer.

"Of course," Constantine nodded. "We insist."

"Lyle's in town. I've suggested he join us," Mr Fitzwilliam murmured and glancing up, Rusty saw Constantine's mouth tighten and Alex swallow hard.

"Of course," Constantine said again and Rusty could hear that he really wanted to tell Lyle to take a running jump.

Five o'clock came soon enough and as James slipped away from his desk and out through the front doors, heading for the side-elevator, he found Alex waiting for him. Alex pulled him down the same side-alley where he had nearly punched Rick. Alex wrapped his arms round him immediately.

"Hey, hey," James said soothingly. "It's OK."

Alex broke free and admitted. "I've wanted to do that all day."

"Mr Fitzwilliam, huh?"

"He's just… Oh, James, I get so anxious something's going to go wrong when he's here. After that auction with the phony Dollar – even before that auction…"

Alex was trembling and James took his hands in his.

"It's alright," James said firmly. "Nothing's going to go wrong."

"You don't know what it's like," Alex said in a low voice. "It's dangerous. A couple of years ago there was this man, Hewett, and he messed up so badly. The authorities got involved and Mr Fitzwilliam was questioned…" Alex broke off. "Hewett just disappeared overnight."

"What happened to him?" Rusty asked, mostly because it was expected of James, partly out of his own curiosity.

"There were rumours." Alex hesitated then went on, "Mr Fitzwilliam owns these hothouses. He grows orchids and other exotic plants.""

Rusty blinked. What did the man do? Cultivate his victims to death?

James smiled. "You telling me he feeds people to a giant Venus flytrap?"

Alex wasn't smiling back. "Little bit at a time."

Huh.

"Come on," James said, leading him back to the main street. "I promise I'll stock up on weed-killer."

Alex laughed and caught up his hand and kissed it. "You make me feel so much better," he said sincerely.

"Feeling's mutual," Rusty lied.

"Good evening, Alex." The voice came out of nowhere. "Someone you want me to introduce me to?"

"Lyle!" Alex dropped Rusty's hand like it was on fire. "This is…this is James Gallagher. He works at Larner's. He's a-a friend."

"Really." Lyle's eyes were gleaming with pleasure at Alex's discomfort. "Friend with benefits, Alex?"

The streetlight showed the flush rising slowly in Alex's cheeks.

"Shall we go on up?" James murmured.


It took all of an elevator ride with a few more little digs at Alex for Rusty to understand that keen-eyed, sandy-haired Lyle enjoyed powerplay as much as Constantine did.

The elevator doors opened to Tony who escorted the three of them to the boardroom where Mr Fitzwilliam and Constantine were stood talking.

"Mr Fitzwilliam. Constantine."

"Lyle."

Impossible not to see the tension arcing across the room between Lyle and Constantine.

"Lyle. Good to see you again," Mr Fitzwilliam smiled.

They were all smiles, in fact, Rusty noticed, looking round the men. Confident and aggressive Constantine and Lyle, nervous Alex and Mr Fitzwilliam, watching all the gameplay unfold.

"Dinner in the Bronx, I think," Mr Fitzwilliam said decisively. "I fancy Italian."

Alex flicked an awkward glance in Rusty's direction and James gave him a minute shake of the head. He wasn't expecting a dinner invitation. Lyle had other ideas.

"Is James joining us?" Lyle asked and Mr Fitzwilliam's eyebrows raised slightly. "Only he and Alex seem rather close. Or have I misunderstood the situation, Alex?"

Challenging. Trouble-making. Leaving Alex to teeter between disavowing his boyfriend or offering up a vulnerability for Lyle to probe further. There was a mostly suppressed grunt of anger from Constantine and Rusty watched Alex blanch and then blush before raising his head high.

"James and I are dating," he said clearly.

Mr Fitzwilliam turned his gaze keenly on Rusty again and Rusty concentrated on keeping James's stance open and relaxed and full of nothing to be ashamed of. Peripherally, he was conscious of Constantine's glare, Lyle's smirk and Alex, biting his lip.

Maybe Mr Fitzwilliam saw it all too.

"Then I think James should join us," he invited.


Dinner was a minefield: pasta on top and barbs underneath.

"I heard that a couple of your men ran into a little trouble," Lyle said, in between bites of lasagne.

"Trouble?" Mr Fitzwilliam asked, taking a sip of Chianti.

Constantine's smile was tight. "Someone foolish enough to imagine they can challenge the established way of things."

"That must be awkward for you," Lyle offered empty sympathy.

"Nothing I can't handle."

"You sound very sure."

"Oh, I am, Lyle. People who take me on soon find they are out of their depth and I have no inclination to throw them a lifeline. It takes a brave man or an idiot to think that's a smart situation to be in."

Rusty thought Constantine had a point.

Mr Fitzwilliam chuckled. "Cabaret with our meal, gentlemen. Par for the course, James, this little bit of banter. The boys do enjoy themselves so."

The meal continued and Rusty did his best to keep James affable and charming, passing neutral comment on neutral issues and not commenting on the rest, refusing to rise to any of the bait that Lyle threw in his direction. He didn't need to antagonise Constantine or worry Alex by having James react.

The unexpected side-effect of not providing Lyle with ammunition and keeping Constantine and Alex happy, was that Rusty could feel James growing in Mr Fitzwilliam's estimation. Evidently the man approved of someone who could hold his own in Lyle and Constantine's company.

"Very nice to meet you, James," Mr Fitzwilliam said as they stood up to leave. "I hope to see you again soon." He turned to Lyle. "Can we drop you at the airport, Lyle?"


Mr Fitzwilliam and his muscle took Lyle away and Tony took the three of them back to Larner's. Constantine was quiet all the way up to his suite and Rusty could see him brooding, trying to slice up the visit and work out whether he'd done enough to hold position as far as Mr Fitzwilliam was concerned. Constantine gave a grunt of goodnight and disappeared.

"Well done," Alex whispered as they finally stepped through the door of their suite. "You were wonderful."

James smiled. "I don't think I did anything special. But I'm glad you think so."

"Believe me," Alex told him fervently, "I know what I'm talking about it. Lyle just thrives on those kind of occasions. You handled him brilliantly. Constantine won't say anything but I know he's pleased."

Pleasing Constantine. That was always a good thing.

"As long as you're OK," James said tenderly. "I know you were on edge."

Alex nodded and the relief was dripping from him. "Now I feel like flying." He seized Rusty's hand. "I want to celebrate."


It was late. After Reuben had gone, Danny had put in a call to Carter and then he'd spent the rest of the day putting himself through the sheet of physio that the hospital had given him.

Now, Danny was spark out and Rick had manhandled him carefully into his bed. No point in waking him back up again.

As he straightened up, his eye fell on Danny's phone. Rick thought about the other day with Rusty phoning Danny directly and how that conversation might have gone down. Almost without thought, he picked up the phone and pocketed it: there was no need for Danny to be disturbed.