A/N: Second part! Third part probably will be finished by the beginning of next week. In the meantime, enjoy.
Timeline:
1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.
2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.
3. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.
4. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve
5. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
6. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
7. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
8. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.
9. 'Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play' (Chapter 24) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
10. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen
11. 'When we were young' Part 1, 2, 3 and 4 (Chapter 25-28) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen
12. 'And we won't get it back when we die' (Chapter 29) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fourteen
13. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen
14. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen
15. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen
16. 'Different Roads' Part 1 (Chapter 31)
17. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen
18. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen
19. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'
20. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'
21. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen
22. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen
23. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen
24. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen
And sequels after they move away!
'Adjusting' - two months after they leave town, Rusty is 15, Danny is 17
'Learning Curve' - eighteen months after they leave town, Rusty is 16, Danny is 19
'All in the family' - shortly after 'Learning Curve'
'Outward Ripples' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20
'Eye for an Eye' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20
'Chasing Echoes' - set after O11.
Half nine wasn't too late for a phonecall, they'd figured. And Danny needed to know if there was any hope as soon as possible. It seemed all too probable that he'd say no. What reason did he have to say yes, after all?
Rusty dialled the number and silently passed the receiver to Danny, and they stood close enough together that they'd both be able to hear every word.
Right. He was mature. Self confident. Grown-up and responsible. He had to work on making all that shine through his voice.
The phone was picked up after it had rang four times. "Bobby Caldwell," the man said tersely.
"Good evening, Mr Caldwell," Danny began smoothly. "You probably don't remember us. My name's Danny Ocean. You met me and my...partner," He hesitated over the word, but it seemed like the right choice, the adult choice. "In November last year."
There was a sound that might have been a sharp intake of breath and then silence.
Danny frowned. "We, uh, tried to pick your pocket and you gave us a few tips?" he prompted hopefully.
"Yes, Danny. I know who you are," Bobby said dryly. "How are you? Are you safe?" The questions were quick and breathless.
Damn. Danny remembered back in Chicago and he'd thought that Bobby had gotten the wrong idea about them. "We're back home. We're safe," he told Bobby, looking at the bruises on Rusty's face.
Rusty was looking at him, puzzled, and Danny smiled and shook his head.
"I see," Bobby said, and there was something in his voice that suggested to Danny that whatever Bobby thought he saw, wasn't what Danny had meant him to see. "So what can I do for you boys?"
"We're in a bit of trouble, Mr Caldwell – " Danny began.
" – Bobby," Bobby interrupted patiently. "Please."
"Right," Danny said hesitantly. "Anyway, we were wondering if you knew how to open safes? And could teach us?"
The silence stretched out for a long time.
"We wouldn't ask, but it's really important," Danny tried, sincere and serious.
"I can't teach you over the phone," Bobby said slowly. "We'd need to meet up."
They'd figured on that. But that sounded like Bobby was considering it, and he grinned at Rusty. "If you're sure it's not too much trouble?" he asked hopefully.
"I have to work tomorrow and Friday," Bobby told them. "Would Saturday be okay?"
He was smiling even more. "That would be fantastic! Thanks, Mr Caldwell...Bobby."
"I'm going to need an address," Bobby said neutrally.
Danny gave him the address of a diner on the other side of town. Seemed safest.
"Thanks," Bobby said. "Now, I'm not promising that I'm going to help, but I'll see you on Saturday at ten."
"Yeah. Thanks so much for this," he said, sincerely.
He hung up the phone and looked at Rusty.
That had been surprisingly easy.
Bobby stared at the phone, unblinking. That had been...unexpected. To say the least.
It had been eight months. He'd told them at the time that they should call him if they ever needed anything, and for the next few days – weeks – he'd hardly wanted to leave the phone, just in case they called, needing helped.
There had been something about them. Oh, not just the fact that they'd done such a good job of lifting his wallet. Not even the way they'd looked at his money and seen essentials – food and clothes, like they weren't something every child had a right to. Maybe it was had been the new father in him that had him up in arms about it. He couldn't help but imagine Linus having to fend for himself in the same way, and it terrified him. Never. Oh, not ever. But it wasn't just that. Not just the skill and not just his natural sympathy. It had been the way they'd worked together. The way they always seemed to know what the other was thinking. The way Danny had ordered him to let go of Rusty, not both of them. The way they'd been so quick and so eager to learn, the way they'd flown through jokes and quips.
They had been special. Exceptional. He'd liked them. He'd wanted to help them. And they hadn't called.
And he'd imagined them living on the streets, hungry and desperate, and every day he'd cursed himself for not persisting the first time.
He'd been afraid that if they felt cornered, if he'd confronted them about being runaways, then they'd get scared and run. Instead he'd given them money, given them space, and waited for them to call.
And they hadn't.
Except now, eight months later, they had. And it hadn't been anything like what he was expecting.
"Who was on the phone?" Molly asked, popping her head round the door enquiringly.
"Those boys I met last year," he said, slowly. "Danny and Rusty. " He knew she'd remember. She'd spent enough nights listening to his agonised what ifs.
"Oh!" Her eyes were wide. "Are they okay? Did they tell you where they are?"
He turned to look at her. "They want to know how to crack safes," he said helplessly.
Molly stared. "They want what?"
"Yeah." Bobby smiled briefly. "I told you they were unexpected."
"In god's name, why?" Molly demanded.
"I don't know," he said soberly. "Danny didn't say, he just said it was important." He thought for a moment. "I think it must be important if they were actually calling me."
Molly crossed the kitchen quickly and clasped his hands tightly. She smiled at him. "You going to teach them?"
"Probably," he admitted. "I said I'd meet them on Saturday. I didn't make any promises, though. I want to see what's what."
Molly leaned in close to him automatically, a comforting embrace.
They weren't just talking about checking on the boys' reasons for wanting to know how to crack safes.
'We're home', Danny had said, and Bobby wasn't sure how comforting that really was. He still remembered the look in Rusty's eyes when Bobby had grabbed them. The frozen, the wild, the terrified. It had worried him then. It worried him now.
He would make sure that they were safe.
"So that's that, then," he said, as they lay back on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. "He's going to help us." It sounded good. Sounded like maybe they were getting somewhere. But he still felt uncertain and he wasn't sure why.
"He didn't say for definite," Rusty cautioned.
"Why else would he come all the way out here?" Danny asked. Except... "Why is he helping us?" he asked slowly, turning his head to look at Rusty.
Rusty's lips were pursed and he didn't know either.
"What's he getting out of it?" Danny wondered, and this was important.
"Maybe that's why he's coming out here," Rusty said softly. "Maybe he wants to know how we're gonna pay him back."
Danny grimaced and stared back up at the ceiling. "Uncle Harold gave me fifty dollars," he said. "I've got about another twenty of my own."
"I've got thirty," Rusty told him. "That's a hundred total."
"'s not enough, is it?" Danny asked quietly.
Rusty shook his head. "It's not even as much as we owe him."
It wouldn't be enough. If Bobby was looking to be paid for lessons, then they didn't have a hope. Danny wasn't sure what the right price for that kind of thing was, but he was damned sure they weren't going to be able to raise it in two days.
"Fuck," he said, miserably.
"He didn't say he was looking for money," Rusty pointed out, and the optimism in his voice was forced. "Maybe...maybe he'll just want us to do some kind of favour? One thief to another."
"What could we do that he wouldn't be able to do though?" Danny asked.
Rusty shrugged. "Got to be things that kids could do that adults couldn't," he suggested. "Places we could get into...people that wouldn't be suspicious. Maybe he's got something like that in mind. Some job he could use us."
Maybe. That might not be so bad. "But we don't want him to think of us as kids," he said with a sigh. If Bobby was thinking of them as just stupid kids, he'd be less likely to listen to their reasons for wanting to break into the safe, more likely to just dismiss them out of hand. "We need him to take us seriously."
There was a long, long silence. "Yeah," Rusty said at last, unhappily, and when Danny turned his head to look, Rusty's hand was rubbing over the bruises on his face.
His eyes widened. "Saturday...they're not going to have faded." Nowhere close, by his experience.
Rusty nodded tightly. "He's going to see them." He caught Danny's eye. "It's just going to make things more complicated, Danny. You really think he's going to take us seriously if he thinks I'm some little kid who needs defending?"
Danny didn't want to argue that. Not right now. "It's not like you can wear a mask, Rus'. I think he might notice."
"No," Rusty agreed. "I can't wear a mask..."
There was something in his voice... Danny thought for a moment. Then he stared.
"Oh."
They were surrounded.
Shelves and shelves of lipstick and mascara and blusher and brushes and lotions and random things that Rusty didn't even know what they were supposed to do.
"Just so you know?" Danny began conversationally, a look of numb bewilderment in his eyes. "If anyone asks if we need help, I'm going to seriously consider dying of embarrassment."
"Think we do need help," Rusty told him, scanning the shelves grimly. He frowned. "What's the difference between shimmery and iridescent?"
"Do you want to be either?" Danny asked practically.
"Well, no," Rusty admitted.
"Then I wouldn't worry about it if I were you," Danny advised.
"Right..." He shook his head. "Well, we're looking for foundation, right? Or powder?"
"This says it's concealer," Danny commented, picking up a small pot with a suspicious frown. "'s orange, though."
Rusty nodded. "Suppose if I was orange, that would conceal the bruise," he agreed.
"And make you look like an Oompa Loompa," Danny pondered.
"I'd need green hair," he pointed out.
"There's probably something round here that could do that," Danny told him, looking round thoughtfully.
There was the sound of giggling voices coming closer to them. A group of girls, the next aisle over, heading their way.
They exchanged a quick look and hastily bundled as many thing as they recognised into their pockets.
No way were they going up to the woman on the counter to pay for make-up.
"Maybe it comes with instructions," he hissed hopefully, as they left the shop. "You know, like paint."
"Paint comes with instructions?" Danny asked, sounding surprised.
Rusty shrugged. "Stir well, apply to walls evenly in a well-ventilated area, do not eat."
"Huh." Danny considered that. "Substitute 'face' for 'walls' and I reckon this stuff probably works the same way."
Rusty sighed. "Lunch?" he suggested plaintively, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting up. Shopping was stressful.
"It's only eleven," Danny pointed out mildly.
There was something that had been nagging at him. "Safes," he said at last, as they strolled in the sunshine.
"Yes?" Danny prompted encouragingly, after a moment of silence.
"They can't all be the same, right? I mean, there'll be different types or whatever. Different locks. It's no use Bobby teaching us how to open one kind and then us finding out that your Uncle's is a different sort altogether."
"Mmm," Danny said slowly, and Rusty could see he was thinking through the point. "We need to be able to tell him what kind of safe it is."
Rusty nodded. "Think you could describe it well enough?"
"Maybe," Danny said thoughtfully. "But there's bound to be some kind of make or model information on it, isn't there? We should find that out."
Sounded like a plan. He smiled. "He'll be at work right now?"
"He'll be at work right now," Danny confirmed.
Best time for a visit.
Rosamund seemed happy to see him and she let them in easily enough.
"Sorry to barge in like this," he said, with a charming smile. "Only I was visiting my uncle last night and I think I must have left my pen here."
"Of course, of course, come in and look," she said with a smile, and they made a point of heading to the living room first.
"Oh, by the way," Danny added, pausing in the doorway. "That lasagne you made last night was delicious."
"Thank you," she said with genuine delight. "It's nice to know someone appreciates my cooking."
Yeah. Danny couldn't imagine that Uncle Harold was exactly lavish with compliments.
"Would you like some lunch?" she added. "I could whip up something for you before you go."
"No, thank you," Rusty said firmly, a split second before Danny would have agreed.
"Why not?" Danny asked, in a whisper, after Rosamund was gone, and they were making a show of searching the living room, just in case she came back. "I know it's not fast food - "
Rusty shot a glance at him. " – it's your Uncle Harold's food," he said calmly. What do you think would happen if Rosamund happens to mention that we'd been here and I scrounged some food?"
He gritted his teeth and he knew what Uncle Harold would say. Uncle Harold had hardly met Rusty and Danny still knew what he thought. Such a small thing and it shouldn't matter.
After a couple of moments, they headed into the hall. "Just going to try the study, Rosamund," Danny called, and there was an answering shout of acknowledgement.
The study. And he stood against the door while Rusty inspected the safe. "Got some numbers," Rusty announced at last. "And a brand name. Protex. That, and describing the safe and the lock..." He broke off and looked across at Danny. "It'll be enough, right?"
He didn't know. He thought so. Probably. "Let's go get some lunch," he suggested.
Later that night and Danny was doing his best to keep a straight face, looking at Rusty's latest efforts at covering up the bruises. It wasn't a laughing matter. It really wasn't. But he just looked so ridiculous.
"This is...not right," Rusty said at last.
"You think?" Danny asked, leaning against the bathroom door, making sure that no one came in. He could imagine Mom's reaction to all of this, and even more he could imagine Richard's. And just because they weren't home and just because this was his room and they never came in here, didn't mean he should relax.
Rusty nodded seriously. "'s orange. My face isn't orange."
"You could put it on all over," Danny suggested mockingly.
"Back to Oompa Loompas again," Rusty said, sighing. "It doesn't look right, Danny. Not nearly."
No. It didn't. And this was the very last of the different types of make up they'd acquired."
"Either it doesn't cover the bruise or it looks like I'm wearing make up," Rusty went on, and Danny could hear the discomfort in his voice and he wasn't smiling now, he was wishing they didn't have to do this.
"We'll get more stuff tomorrow," he suggested softly. "Different stuff. We'll get the hang of it."
Rusty sighed and rubbed his fingers around the outside of his mouth. "Maybe we're overthinking this," he said hesitantly. "Maybe he won't even care."
"Maybe he won't," Danny agreed dully, after a fraction of a second.
Maybe he wouldn't. No one else ever did, after all. There were always bruises. And okay, during school time especially, they were mostly places that no one could see, but they were on Rusty's face some of the time. Enough of the time that people saw them. And no one cared. Not enough to say anything, not enough to do anything, not enough to put an end to it.
Danny had told a lot of people over the years. A steady stream of teachers who seemed sympathetic or competent, and most of them had made the right noises and none of them had changed anything, except sometimes they'd had a quiet word with Rusty's parents, and sometimes that meant that Rusty didn't come to school for a few days.
And yes, some of that was down to Rusty flat out contradicting him, telling whoever was asking that there was nothing wrong with his life, that his father would never lay a finger on him, letting them think that he was clumsy, an attention-seeker, a violent thug, whatever they wanted to believe – but they should notice. They should have done something.
And Danny had told his Mom and she hadn't believed him, and she'd seen the bruises over the years and she hadn't cared, and that had hurt. And Danny had more than told his Dad, and Dad had seen more than just bruises, and Dad had done nothing. And that hurt more than Danny could ever bear to think of.
So many people. And none of them ever did anything. Why should Bobby be any different?
Only Danny had liked Bobby. He really had. Bobby had been nice to them, and he hadn't talked down to them and he was an adult and a thief. Danny liked him, and he tried to imagine how it would feel if Bobby saw the bruise on Rusty's face – saw the evidence that Rusty was beaten by his father - and turned away, just like everyone else did.
One more disappointment. Danny wasn't sure he could take it. Wasn't sure they could take it.
And there was a small, selfish part of him, one that he didn't like to acknowledge, that was considering what would happen if Bobby did notice and did try to do something. Seemed most likely that nothing would change for Rusty. Nothing ever did, after all. But Bobby wouldn't help them with the safe and Danny would be sent away and probably Rusty would be taken away for a while, to someplace they didn't know that might or might not be safe, until eventually he got sent back to his Dad. Just like last time. And that would be them, apart forever, or as good as.
It wasn't what he wanted, and that was selfish. But it wasn't what Rusty wanted, and he told himself that made it okay.
He sighed. Maybe Bobby wouldn't care. And it hurt too much to find out if that was true or not.
"We'll try more make up tomorrow," he said firmly. "Come on. Let's go see what's on TV."
They were half way through watching the film, as the girl who was meant to be ugly had make up put on her by a squad of other girls, when Danny realised. He turned to Rusty. "You know what we need?"
"A girl?" Rusty answered immediately.
Danny nodded and grinned. "We need a girl."
Bobby was finding it a little difficult to concentrate on work. Would have been different if he had anything big on, but right now he was just helping Jim Cartwright and Felix West sort through the Zucher files, ready to hand over to prosecution. He hadn't been the lead on the case, but he had been involved, and they needed it tied up as soon as possible. Didn't make it any more exciting.
Particularly when he couldn't stop thinking about Danny Ocean and Rusty Ryan and wondering exactly why the wanted what they wanted. Wondering what sort of trouble they were in. Wondering how he could help.
"You doing anything this weekend, Bobby?" Felix asked, as they took a quick break for coffee.
"Going to see some friends," Bobby asked easily.
"Leaving the wife and kid behind for a brief return to bachelordom, huh?" Jim asked, grinning, and nudging him in the ribs. "A weekend of booze and girls?"
"Definitely not," Bobby said firmly, regarding the idea with distaste. Not just because he would never think of another woman – with the company he was going to be keeping this weekend there had better not be any drinking either.
Jim shook his head, grinning some more. "Whipped," he pronounced cheerfully, and Bobby carefully didn't rise to the bait.
He had more important things to think about. He should check out the town, for one. See if there was anyone who might be helpful anywhere in the vicinity. Someone must know someone.
In the meantime it was back to the Zucher files.
According to Rusty, Gina had been taking part in the swim club all summer, and so could reliably be found at the swimming pool each morning. Also, according to Rusty, Gina's older sister was in beauty school, and tended to practice on her little sister on a regular basis.
Danny never doubted the knowledge for a second. Though sometimes he did have to wonder. There was knowing everything and then there was knowing everything.
They sat on the wall outside the swimming pool patiently.
"So," Danny said presently. "If Gina will help us then we're set, right?"
"Right," Rusty agreed absently, and his cigarette was burning out, unnoticed.
"You want to maybe take the afternoon to get some more money together if we can," Danny suggested. "If Bobby does expect cash, maybe we can pull together enough to make a difference." Maybe they could give him money and promise to send him more as they got it. Sort of lessons on a payment plan. Could work.
"Maybe best," Rusty said, still not looking round, and he was responding to Danny, hearing Danny, it was just that Danny couldn't help but notice that he really didn't have Rusty's full attention.
Curiously, he looked over to where Rusty was looking. The track field on the other side of the street. Danny couldn't see anything interesting. A boy in track shorts he vaguely recognised – Jonny, went to their school, the year above Rusty – was leaning against the gate, laughing with someone just out of sight.
He frowned at Rusty. "You okay?"
Rusty turned to face him, blinking and puzzled. "What?"
"What were you looking at?" Danny asked patiently.
"Oh!" Rusty shrugged. "Must have just spaced out. Sorry." He dropped the remains of his cigarette and ground it beneath his heel.
Danny accepted that doubtfully. "Okay...there's Gina," he said suddenly, spotting her coming out of the door with a bunch of other girls.
They stood up leisurely and moved in behind her, one on each side.
"Hey, Gina," Danny said lazily.
"Hi, Gina," Rusty chimed in.
She looked from one to the other of him and smiled, slightly uncertainly. "Hi Danny. Rusty," she added, like an afterthought. "What's going on?"
Danny smiled brightly. "We need a favour," he said simply. Gina owed them a favour. Actually, Gina owed them half a dozen favours. But Danny didn't want to actually draw attention to that unless it was absolutely necessary. Not very subtle, after all.
Gina laughed. "So serious," she complained. "Can't it wait for another day?"
"Not really," Rusty put in simply and Danny met her gaze steadily.
"It's important to us," he added.
She nodded and glanced at her friends. "You guys go on without me. I guess I'll see you tomorrow."
"Thanks, Gina," Danny said quietly, as her friends grumbled and walked away.
"So what's the big fuss?" Gina asked.
"We need you to show Rusty how to put on make up," Danny explained urbanely.
Gina spun round and stared at Rusty. "What?"
"Thanks, Danny," Rusty muttered, glaring at him. He sighed. "I got into a fight and I don't want my Dad to know about it."
They waited in a split second of uncertainty and optimism.
"Oh!" she said, sounding surprised. "You want to cover up those bruises."
"Exactly," Rusty said with a smile, and Danny gritted his teeth against the realisation that she hadn't noticed the bruises up until then.
She hesitated for a moment. "I'm not sure I can do that...but I bet Tiffany, my sister could," she added brightly.
"Would she help us if you asked her?" Danny asked.
"I think so," Gina said with a shrug. "She's always looking for people to practice on." She giggled. "She'll make you look really pretty, Rusty."
"Not exactly what I had in mind," Rusty said dryly.
Neither of them had ever been to Gina's house before. It was nice enough, but her mother regarded them with instant suspicion.
"This is Danny Ocean and Rusty Ryan, Mom," Gina said as they followed her through the door. "We're just going upstairs to ask Tiffany a few questions."
"Leave the door open," Gina's Mom said immediately.
Gina's cheeks were tinged red. "Mom, you're embarrassing me," she hissed. "It's not like that."
It really, really wasn't like that. But, somehow, Rusty doubted that was going to make any difference to the way Gina's Mom felt.
Tiffany was nice enough and amenable to persuasion and ten minutes later, Rusty was sitting in a chair, a paper napkin tucked around his neck, with Tiffany leaning in uncomfortably close to him, staring at his face. He resisted the urge to flinch away with great difficulty. Danny was perched just in front of him, on the edge of Tiffany's dressing table, comfortingly close.
"Hmmm, you've got gorgeous skin," Tiffany announced. "And good colouring."
He wondered what that meant. Danny shrugged in a way that signified he was lost too.
"It should be easy to match," Tiffany went in. "Then I'll blend the edges. Soften it a little. Won't take long."
It didn't. And there was a mirror on the table in front of him and there was something peculiar about watching the bruise vanish in front of his eyes. Oh, he could still feel it, and if he looked really close, he could still see the shadow of the swelling around it, but to a casual scrutiny, it was gone.
"There," Tiffany said at last, standing back satisfied. "All done."
"Thanks, Tiffany," he said sincerely.
It really, really wasn't obvious that he was wearing make-up. And he'd taken careful note of what she did, made sure he could do it for himself.
And even though she'd given him enough of the stuff to last until the bruise faded, he'd taken careful note of the brand name.
He was pretty sure he'd be doing this again.
They spent the rest of the day in the park, enjoying the sunshine and lifting wallets. More than they would normally take, enough that it was a risk, but they both felt the sense of urgency. They wanted to get money so as to convince Bobby they were worth helping.
Rusty could see the worry in Danny's eyes. Could see the strain and the exhaustion. There might be a plan, but it was all about relying on someone else – an adult, at that. Adults weren't reliable. Came with the territory. And Danny didn't want to be sent away.
Danny didn't want to be sent away. And he'd listened to Danny's thoughts about what the school was going to be like, and he'd move heaven and earth to keep Danny away from that, but Danny's real fear had been leaving Rusty. And he wasn't going to deny how that made him feel – the sort of warmth, deep inside, that promised that he'd never be cold and lonely again - but the problem was, some day, one day sooner than either of them would truly like, Danny would have to leave him behind. Two years this September, Danny would be off to college, and no matter what Danny might say, no matter what ridiculous bets Danny might be willing to make, Rusty didn't think they'd see each other after that. And at first he knew that would be absolute hell for both of them.
Maybe the right thing, the kind thing to do, was to start stepping back now.
He glanced at Danny as they sat under the band stand, Danny recounting the day's takings single-mindedly, as if he was somehow going to find some new form of addition in which eighty seven dollars and sixty two cents equalled enough.
To hell with stepping back.
"Hey," he said softly and when Danny looked up he was smiling and his eyes were calm. "You wanna go catch a movie this evening?"
Danny glanced down at the money in his hand, his expression troubled.
Rusty laughed. "I wasn't actually suggesting paying," he pointed out.
"Okay," Danny agreed, with a slight grin and he took the hand that Rusty offered to help him up, and if Rusty held on for a little longer than he had to, well. Did it really matter?
(Yes. Oh, yes.)
"This is going to work," he told Danny firmly, layering his voice and eyes with all the confidence he could want. "Because we're going to make it work."
They would persuade Bobby to help them. Whatever Bobby might want, Rusty would find a way to make it happen.
Eventually Danny would leave.
In the meantime, Rusty would make each moment count.
Danny felt a lot more relaxed now. Seemed as though Rusty had spent the evening determined to make him think about anything other than the school and the safe and Bobby. The movie had been incomprehensible, Rusty's whispered commentary had been hysterical, and after that the conversation had been wild and outrageous, and every time he laughed or smiled he could feel the tension in his stomach unknotting just a little more.
He needed this. This indefinable miracle made him complete. Why was that so hard for everyone to understand?
Rusty had kept the make-up on for the rest of the day and Danny knew that the way that no one gave him a second glance, no one looked at him with speculation or judgement in their eyes, made Rusty feel a hundred times better. He'd watched the self consciousness dissipate, and he doubted that this would be a common occurrence – wasn't like Rusty was comfortable wearing make-up. But maybe it was another option for situations like these. Something that made Rusty feel less vulnerable.
They'd walked past a newsstand after the movie and they'd seen the headlines. The Giants lost again. Rusty gave him a wan smile.
"He's going to be hell to live with."
Danny couldn't say anything, but he thought that maybe he was the definition of hell to live with.
Rusty smiled brightly and started talking about stage magicians, candlelight and fedoras, and they wandered into the pizza place on the corner and let the rest of the evening fly by.
Rusty was already asleep on his feet as they walked up to Danny's house, and Danny's thoughts were pretty much centred around falling straight into bed.
That was when he caught a glimpse of the car in the driveway.
"Mom's home," he said tightly, and Rusty was awake in a second.
"Fuck," he said quietly.
"Yeah." Danny was inclined to agree. He chewed on his lip for a moment. "We can't assume that she won't come upstairs to check if I'm home or not, if she doesn't see me. I need to – "
" – I'll – "
" – no." Danny was insistent. "She might not let you stay." He remembered the things he'd said the last time he saw Mom. Was far from impossible she was still mad. And if she was mad at him, she'd send Rusty back to his Dad, and whatever happened would be all Danny's fault.
"Suppose Richard's there though?" Rusty asked, staring at him.
He hoped he wasn't. "I'll be careful," he promised. "I'll see you upstairs. Stay out of sight."
He opened the door and Mom was there immediately, like she'd been waiting for him. Now that was unusual.
"Daniel," she said at once, scowling. "I need to have a word with you."
"Of course, Mom," he agreed at once, even though it hadn't been a request. Rusty was upstairs and they had to be free to meet Bobby tomorrow. The last thing he should do was pick a fight.
He followed her into the living room and sat stiffly on the seat she pushed him towards. She stayed standing. Making a point of towering over him.
"I'm entitled to go away for a few days, Daniel," she began at last, staring down at him. "I have my own life and I can't be subject to you all the time."
He blinked, utterly confused. "I know that," he agreed carefully, when she seemed to be waiting for a response.
"Then why were you telling tales to your Uncle?" she demanded, her lips in a thin line.
That was what this was about? What had Uncle Harold been saying? "I just went over to his house for dinner," he tried to explain.
Mom's face was flushed. "You made it sound like I don't provide for you, Daniel. I do not appreciate being made out to be some...some child abuser!"
Danny stared at her, really not knowing what to say. This was completely ludicrous. "I'm fifteen," he pointed out as calmly as he could. "I can look after myself." And it wasn't like he'd ever gone to Uncle Harold for help before or ever would again.
"Yes, exactly," Mom said quickly, and there was something in her voice...she was being just a little too insistent. Like she was trying to convince herself. Oh.
"I didn't mean to embarrass you, Mom," he promised sincerely. "Next time I won't go to Uncle Harold."
She looked a little mollified. "You should have told me that I'd forgotten to leave you money," she said sharply. "I can't be expected to remember everything."
"Of course not," he agreed reasonably. "Next time I'll remind you." Like hell he would. He didn't beg his Mom for money. That was just tacky.
"I think I forgot to give you your allowance this month," she went on crisply.
Danny blinked. This month and every month since he was thirteen. He'd assumed that he just didn't get one now.
"Here we go," she went on, pulling two fifties out of her purse and avoiding meeting his eyes.
Was she feeling guilty? He made no move to take the money. "Mom, I don't need it."
"Don't be so stupid, Daniel," she snapped, her voice brimming with derision. "You need to learn to be properly grateful to the people who provide for you. And maybe if you were a little less reckless with your spending you wouldn't have had any problems in the first place."
Suddenly he wasn't feeling like the reasonable one and he wasn't feeling relaxed and happy. He felt like a particularly stupid kid, like a burden and an inconvenience and everything Mom always thought he was.
He took the money. "Thank you," he said dully. "May I go to bed now?"
She was looking at him. "Are you still sulking because I'm sending you to a new school?" she asked.
"No," he answered honestly. Not sulking.
"Good," she said shortly. "I've been looking into it and as soon as Harold's deal is finalised and the scholarship is official, we'll be able to go up to the school for a visit. At the beginning of August, I would think. Maybe you'll meet some new friends. That's something to look forward to isn't it?"
(Something to dread.)
It was never going to happen, he reminded himself. "Yes, Mom," he said aloud.
Her lips were pursed. "Honestly, Daniel, you're too old for this nonsense. Show some enthusiasm, for pity's sake, or people will think you're as dense as a post."
"Yes, Mom," he said again, swallowing hard and trying to sound at least a little upbeat.
She sighed exaggeratedly. "I swear, I don't know what to do with you sometimes. I despair of you, I really do. You've just never shown the slightest spark."
He didn't say anything. He just stood there, his hands shoved into his pockets, his teeth tearing his lower lip apart.
"Sometimes I wonder how you ever expect to amount to anything. You get this sullenness from your father, right along with your disloyalty. I swear you're growing up to be just like hi..." She stopped short.
Danny held himself absolutely still. Didn't flinch. Didn't show any of the emotions raging through him. It took so much effort. "May I go to bed now?" he asked again quietly.
"Yes, of course," she said, looking anywhere but in his eyes. "Goodnight, Daniel."
"Goodnight, Mom," he said politely, obedient as Mom could wish.
He walked upstairs like a robot, and when he walked in the door, he distantly heard Rusty swear.
It wasn't until he was held safe in an embrace of boundless understanding that he let it hurt.