So. There are three things that I want to point out.

First of all, this story is actually a little darker than it was originally intended to be. I don't think it's nearly as bad as the last two chapters but still. Anyway, the important thing to remember is that it is all InSilva's fault. So, if you feel that it should have been happier - PM her, not me. And if you wanna know why it's her fault, go read 'More important than that'. Actually, go read that anyway. Whether you already have or not. Because it is amazing.

The second thing is that nothing really happens in this chapter. Sorry.

The third thing is that this story now has over 100 reviews, and I am incredibly grateful for that. Thank you all.

And fourth thing! Edited because ParisAmy kindly pointed out that once again I'd completely failed to mention when this was set. Sorry, I'm useless. Is in fact currently chronologically first. Perhaps eight months before Rusty goes into Care in 'Four day interlude'

Danny was glad that he'd brought a jacket. It was only September, but it was cold. Mind you, he wasn't normally out this late, on his own or otherwise. Maybe this was normal.

The yelling hadn't stopped, either during dinner or after, and he just hadn't been able to take it anymore. So he'd scrambled down the tree outside his window, which had proved much more difficult than he'd imagined it would be. He'd nearly fallen twice, and the scrapes on his hands were stinging like anything. Still, this was an adventure, and even walking nearly an hour across town hadn't done anything to dampen his enthusiasm.

Staring up at the building did though. The lights were still on in the apartment, so there was no problem there, but he had absolutely no idea what he was going to say if Rusty's dad answered. Which at this time of night was more than likely.

"Little late for you to be out, isn't it?"

He turned round quickly. "I could say the same thing." he said, regarding Rusty evenly. He was sitting on the sidewalk, leaning against a doorstep, hiding in the shadows, and Danny could almost, almost understand how he hadn't noticed.

Rusty grinned and Danny took the invitation and sat down beside him. They sat in silence for a while, Rusty watching the lights in the building across the way and Danny trying not to look at the piles of bloodstained tissues dotted around Rusty's feet, and trying not to count the bruises lining his face, and trying not to watch the black eye that he would swear he could almost see swelling in front of him, and trying not to stare too hard at the split lip, or the ragged gash along his cheekbone, and trying not to ask the question.

"So, why are you out?" Rusty asked, at last.

"Same reason you are, I guess." Danny said, absent-mindedly, wriggling against the cold wall, trying to get comfortable.

Rusty nodded understandingly. "They threw you out."

"No!" Danny turned round sharply. "He threw you out?"

"Emphasis on the 'threw'." Rusty said, with a grin that Danny hated, rubbing at the graze on his cheek.

Danny reached out and pulled his hand away. "You'll start it bleeding again." he said quietly and sighed. "He can't do that. You know that, right?"

"Well, he can do that. He did do that." Rusty said, with a shrug. "Don't worry," he added, seemingly on seeing Danny's expression. "He always forgets by morning. I'm just waiting until they go to bed, then I'll sneak back in."

"They? Your mom came back?" Danny asked, before he could stop himself.

Rusty looked at the ground. "No."

Danny offered a silent apology and Rusty granted silent acceptance.

"I suppose I've run away from home." Danny said, after a few moments.

"Uh huh." Rusty said, looking sideways at him. "Aren't you supposed to take a few treasured belongings wrapped up in a handkerchief?"

"Couldn't find one." Danny answered immediately. He'd run with less than fifty cents in his pocket, but to be honest, this was as far as he'd ever expected (wanted) to get. And he couldn't say why Rusty made him feel better, but there was something, this was something, and it did, and it was good..

"How bad was it?" Rusty asked and Danny wished that he'd managed to bring himself to ask the question first.

"Oh, you know. The usual." he said, lightly. "I think they've forgotten how to talk in anything less than a bellow, and they're breaking plates faster than they can replace 'em. Oh, and Juliet Darcey saw us getting thrown out of the arcade on Saturday."

Personally, he didn't think it was such a big deal, but not only did his mom think it was, she also seemed to think it was his dad's fault. Something about a lack of proper role models. Honestly, they'd only been fixing the crane game, and it had just been to stop a couple of brats from crying. Though maybe, with the benefit of hindsight, ten plushy toys for a dime was pushing it.

Rusty frowned. "What was Juliet Darcey doing at the arcade?"

"You know, that's what I wanted to know." he agreed. He didn't feel like sharing the rest. Not at the moment. Not quite. Not yet.

Rusty looked at him, and he could see the understanding and the sympathy and the agreement to wait, and he accepted it and countered it with a look that said, quite simply 'Your turn.'

"I didn't catch her name." Rusty said, after a minute. "She laughed a lot though." he added, absently rubbing at the scrape on his cheek again, and as Danny grabbed his hand to make him stop, he wondered, not for the first time, how Rusty was able to treat his petty problems as if they in some way compared. Because however bad it got at home, he'd never need to worry about being thrown out on the streets, bruised and bleeding and alone.

"But you are out here." Rusty said quietly. "None of it's right, is it?"

It wasn't a rhetorical question, so Danny shook his head. "No. It's not right."

Rusty sighed. "I don't care, you know that? About the woman. Whoever she is. Mom isn't coming back, and even if she did . . . so what? I don't care."

Danny nodded and pretended that he believed the lie and Rusty smiled and pretended he believed that Danny believed. There were ways of getting through everything, and tomorrow they would still have to be fine.

"A woman called for Dad during dinner." Danny remarked lightly, knowing just what Rusty would pick up on. He paused. "Her name was Emma. She sounded nice."

Rusty looked at him, understanding shining in his eyes, "And – "

" – yeah. Dad said he'd asked her not to call him here. Guess it's been going on for a while." He echoed Rusty, absentmindedly. "I don't care." And he found that it was just a little closer to being true than it should have been. "I don't care." he repeated more forcefully. "Why should I care? They don't want me."

He stopped. He hadn't exactly intended to say that. After a second, he leaned over, leaned on Rusty, and didn't even bother trying to pretend that it was anything other than what it was.

"There's a difference between wanting someone and loving them, I think." Rusty said, quietly, after a long moment. "And they do care about you. You know that. They want what's best for you."

Yeah. They wanted him safe, and normal, and as far from Rusty's influence as possible. "They have no idea what's best for me."

Rusty smiled broadly, and the blood oozed out of his lip and trailed down his chin. "I didn't say they were any good at it." He frowned and looked uncomfortable. "But they do love you."

"You think I should go back?" Danny questioned.

Though Rusty didn't say anything, Danny was left pondering his other options. There weren't many.

"You think I should go back." he concluded. "Guess I don't have any choice."

"You've got choices." Rusty said immediately. "Just no good ones. Trust me; you don't want to try sleeping on the street."

Danny suddenly felt as though someone had yanked the floor out from under him. Rusty's words played over and over again in his mind and he turned and stared at his friend – his ten year old best friend, who deserved so much better – and hoped that he'd misunderstood.

The embarrassed expression that Rusty was wearing, and the way he wouldn't meet his eyes told him he wasn't. "Only twice." Rusty muttered, defensively.

Danny continued to stare. He couldn't help it.

"Once, before I met you." Rusty was staring at his shoes, like they were the most interesting things he'd ever seen. "Just for a couple of days. And this summer, while you were away."

There was so much he wanted to ask; so much that he was going to have to ask at some point. But he could feel the difference between not wanting to talk about it, and not being able to talk about it, so he settled on simply asking; "How long?"

"A week. It wasn't that bad." And there was a lie that hurt

Danny tried to ignore the strange prickling at the back of his eyes. "I'm – "

"Don't you dare apologise!" Rusty said sharply, looking straight at him. "None of it's your fault. You can't fix everything."

He nodded, and pretended he believed it, and wished he could promise that it would never, ever happen again. "Couldn't you tell someone? Please?" There were some times when he wasn't in the slightest bit ashamed to beg. Because no-one ever seemed to listen when Danny pointed out the obvious, but if Rusty would just admit it, they'd have to listen. Wouldn't they?

"Danny." Rusty smiled and shook his head slightly. "It's not that bad." And god, he wished so much that Rusty was lying then. "Lots of people have it worse. Look at Carrie Milne."

She was in Rusty's class, Danny remembered. Had been walking around with her arm in a cast for the last week or so. "She fell off a horse."

"Uh huh." Rusty was still smiling. "And I walked into a door. Several times. Ooh, or maybe I fell down the stairs. That's always a good one."

Danny ignored that. "How did you know?" he asked instead.

"She wasn't that good at hiding it. Hasn't been going on that long, I'd guess. But she told me when I asked, and I took her to Mrs. Jenkins. She's in the System now. Dunno if it'll get any better for her. But hey, a change is as good as a rest, right?"

"So why can't you – " Danny began, frustrated.

" – but that's my point." Rusty interrupted. "I don't have it that bad. At least he's never broken bones."

A feeling of nausea came close to overwhelming him. "Rus' – " There was so much that he wanted to say. So much that he wanted to make clear.

" – Danny." But he took note of the pleading in that voice, and kept quiet.

Instead he leaned his head back against the cold, rough stone behind him, and glanced back to the building opposite. The lights had gone out at some point, but he really didn't feel like pointing that out.

After a while he started talking. "It wasn't really any different from normal, you know?" He considered. "Maybe a little worse. They broke three plates during dinner, which is a new record. And Emma certainly got them a little more riled up. But really, it was just the usual stuff. Except . . . " He stopped, and turned. Rusty was watching him intently. "Except that while they were arguing, about me, and mom working too much, and dad never being home" (and about Rusty, but he didn't mention that) "Dad said that he'd never wanted kids anyway. And mom agreed."

If he hadn't been watching carefully, and if he didn't know Rusty so well, he would never have noticed the way his face grew perfectly still, or the way that his eyes darkened. Huh. He'd never really seen Rusty look angry before.

He continued. "And I know that they didn't really mean it. Hell, I don't think they even knew I was there. They just wanted something to hurt each other with, and I was handy." He could tell himself that. And he could believe it. Because Rusty was right; in their own way, they did care about him.

"But it hurt." Rusty stated.

"Yeah." he whispered.

Rusty reached out and put his hand on top of Danny's gently and Danny felt himself relax in a way that he didn't even know he was capable of. Because even though he'd often found, or offered comfort and reassurance in leaning against Rusty, or brushing against his arm, or touching his hand; this was the first time that he could remember Rusty initiating it. And yeah, it was all he could do not to start crying and he didn't even understand why.

"I just wanted them to look at my report card." he said, quietly, staring at the sky. 'I just wanted them to look at me' he carefully avoided adding, content in the knowledge that Rusty would hear it anyway. But he couldn't say it out loud, because it was pathetic and childish and at the age of twelve he should have outgrown the stupid need for his parents' attention. Because he was never going to get it.

He relaxed still further as Rusty squeezed his hand, and they sat in almost contented silence.

"You got your report card back?" Rusty asked at last. "How did you do in history? Did that project bring your mark back up?"

Danny turned and stared at him. Stared at his best friend sitting in the dark and the cold, blood on his face, genuinely concerned and interested, asking the questions that he'd been so desperate to hear from his parents and suddenly he knew exactly why he always sought Rusty out, knew exactly why being with Rusty made him feel so much better. He knew what this was and more than that he knew that this was going to be forever. And for some reason it was the funniest thing he'd ever known. He started to laugh.

"What? What's so funny?" Rusty demanded. And that only made him laugh harder.

Finally he managed to get control of himself enough to shake his head. "I'll tell you later." he lied, and watched Rusty sigh in frustration. "Yes, history was fine. Managed to get back up to an 'A', so if my parents ever actually enquire, they'll get off my back about it for a while."

Rusty smiled proudly at him, and Danny's newfound knowledge came close to overwhelming him again. "Good." he said, simply.

It was even colder now than it had been before. Rusty obviously hadn't had time to grab a coat, so Danny took his jacket off, and pulled it over both of them. And yes, he noticed the grimace of pain as Rusty moved closer to him.

"You know, they say that these are the best days of our lives." he said, conversationally. His uncle Harold was particularly fond of pointing that out. Apparently they had no real worries and no responsibilities - no problems.

"God help us." Rusty grinned.

"You don't believe in God." Danny pointed out.

"Then I guess we'll have to help ourselves, right?"

Danny nodded, serious where Rusty had been being facetious. Right. They would. Because this was real. And the very newness of that thought was still singing through his head. This was real and this was love and this was forever. And if it was the only good thing in their life, they had to help themselves. Because no-one else was going to.

"So maybe you should get help." he suggested, for the second time that night.

Rusty frowned at him, and Danny realised that even if he had no idea what it was, Rusty knew that something had changed. "No." he said shortly. Then he leaned forwards, and hugged his knees, and the jacket fell off his shoulders, and as he moved out of the shadows, the bruises shone in the moonlight. "Anyway, it really was my fault this time."

Danny closed his eyes and suddenly felt so old. "Do we have to have the conversation again?"

"I'm not talking about what should be, Danny. I'm talking about what is." Rusty said, sounding almost calm. "I was in the living room. I was sitting on his sofa. The light's gone in my room – I had homework – so I was in the living room. But I knew he'd be home. And I knew it was his payday. I could have done the homework on the bus tomorrow. I should have known better."

"Rusty – " Danny stared at his friend, in painful disbelief. That for doing his homework? Rusty caught him staring, and put a hand up as if trying – impossibly trying – to hide the damage, and Danny looked away.

"It was my fault. Should have known better." Rusty repeated stubbornly. "I mean, he's going to hit me, if he sees me. If he's got an excuse, or he's in the mood. I know that. There's nothing I can do about that. So if I make it that easy for him, then it's my fault."

"Do you actually listen to yourself?" Danny asked, desperately.

"I'm just being practical." Rusty said, looking at him, and the expression in his eyes – desperate, hunted – hurt Danny more than his parents ever had. "I mean, maybe he shouldn't hit me - "

Maybe. The word cut Danny like a knife. " - He shouldn't hit you." he said firmly, like he had a hundred times before. A thousand times. "No-one should hit you. And it's not your fault and you don't deserve it."

He realised that at some point, somehow, without even being aware of it, he had moved and he was now crouching in front of Rusty staring him in the eye. "You don't deserve it." he repeated and wouldn't let Rusty look away until he nodded. He sighed, stood up and stretched. "One of these days I'm going to say it, and you're going to believe it." he promised. He might not be able to make their lives better in any material way – not yet – but he could do that.

"I almost do." Rusty said quietly. "I should do. It's difficult."

"I know." Danny said gently, before he reached down a hand and helped him up. "Is that place round the corner open this late? I'll buy you a burger."

"It is." Rusty raised his eyebrows. "But do you have any money?"

Ah. "Well, I'll get you a burger, then." he conceded.

Rusty grinned at him. "I'll get you one." he promised.

A burger and a few hours in a warm restaurant, and then they could head back to Danny's for a few hours sleep. And tomorrow would be exactly the same, and nothing was ever solved, but they had this. And watching Rusty smiling, and with the realisation of what this really was still fresh in his mind, Danny couldn't help but feel so, so lucky.

So, thank you so much for reading, and I really hope you enjoyed it, even if nothing actually happened. And if you have the time, please let me know what you thought.