A/N: InSilva is less impressed with me...
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. 'Trick and Treat' (Chapter 34) Rusty is eight, Danny is ten.
4. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.
5. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve
6. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
7. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
8. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
9. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.
10. 'Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play' (Chapter 24) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
11. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen
12. 'When we were young' Part 1, 2, 3 and 4 (Chapter 25-28) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen
13. 'And we won't get it back when we die' (Chapter 29) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fourteen
14. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen
15. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen
16. 'Unseasonal' (Chapter 36 37, 38 & 39) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen
17. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen
18. 'Different Roads' Part 1-3 (Chapter 31-33)
19. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen
20. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen
21. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'
22. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'
23. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen
24. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen
25. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen
26. '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
'Time to regret' - shortly before 'Learning Curve'
'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.
'Reconstruction' - set after movies.
23rd December 1978
Danny woke up early and couldn't get back to sleep. Terrific. Mom probably wouldn't turn up looking to go down to breakfast for hours yet, and somehow he didn't think it would be a good move to go down on his own. In all probability, Mom would regard that as a slight of some kind.
He took his time getting ready, wondering all the while what the best thing to do about tonight was. He wanted to go on the date, but equally he did want to spend time with Mom. She was all the family he had left, after all, he wanted to make the effort and get to know her better. Form some kind of connection. If she wanted to. So far, there hadn't really been much sign of that. Maybe all she actually wanted was to get him away from the house for Christmas. He supposed he could understand that.
Although if that was the case, maybe she wouldn't mind if he took Yvette to the pictures after all. It would give her a chance to go spend time with her new friends, after all. And Yvette was beautiful and charming and funny and her mother did own the hotel, which might just be the sort of thing that mattered to Mom. Maybe all he had to do was ask and Mom would be happy for him. Maybe.
He really wanted to go. He leaned his head against the tiles and let the warm water wash over his face, and thought about ways he could sneak out if Mom did object, thought about Yvette and a darkened movie theatre, giggling in the dark, the feeling of her hands, flat against his chest as they kissed...
He opened his eyes and quickly turned the water temperature down as low as it could go.
By the time he was done with his shower it was still barely half six. He sighed and dressed quickly. Still nothing to do. He switched the TV on and flopped down onto the bed. Didn't seem to be anything on but the news. A reporter standing on a ship in front of some tropical island, talking seriously into a microphone. No subtitles and Danny didn't pay enough attention to actually follow the story. He wasn't honestly interested.
He left it playing though. It was company of a kind. He sighed; he had to remember that even if he was at home right now, Mom might well not have let Rusty stay over. She got stricter nearer Christmas. Mmm. That wasn't quite right...she got more observant over Christmas. More inclined to notice when he wasn't living up to her standards. Point was, even if he was at home, he might still be lonely. And Rusty might still be alone.
God, he hoped Rusty was okay right now. So easy to imagine how Rusty might not be. So easy to imagine Rusty trapped in his room, hiding from his Dad. So easy to imagine Rusty not being able to hide any longer.
This was a miserable way of spending Christmas.
Mom knocked on the door at eight and seemed surprised to see him up. Fortunately she didn't say anything. "Time for breakfast, Daniel."
He followed her downstairs in silence.
"I thought we might go to the park today," Mom began, over croissants and coffee. "Apparently there is one at the top of the hill that has spectacular views over the Mediterranean."
That sounded...that sounded like it was just going to be the two of them. Danny looked up from stirring his coffee, trying to deal with the sudden surge of hope.
"It's quite some distance away," Mom continued. "We'll need to take a cab, unfortunately, but I thought after you weren't feeling well yesterday that the walk in the fresh air might do you a bit of good."
"Thank you," he said sincerely, because even if he wasn't a fan of the great outdoors, it sounded so much better than another day of wandering round a museum, being told what he should find impressive. "That sounds brilliant, Mom." His smile was warm and dazzling and Mom blinked and pinked slightly.
"You really should smile more often," she commented absently, before she shook herself and went on. "That's settled then. I'll book the taxi straight after breakfast."
Danny had been half-hoping to see Yvette at the desk when they were heading out, but there was no sign of her. He did wonder about leaving a note, but he didn't think they'd be away all day. Probably he'd be able to speak to her when they got back.
The park was very beautiful, and the views of the city and the sea were truly breathtaking. The weather wasn't warm, but it wasn't freezing either, and the sun was shining brightly and they walked through the park and Danny couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so relaxed in his Mom's company.
They talked, intermittently, about school and work, and even though Danny was carefully sticking to safe topics, talking about school assignments he'd done well in, and about funny things that other people had done, and about teachers, and never about him and Rusty, Mom seemed to be interested and Mom seemed to be listening to him, and he wished it could stay like this.
(Why couldn't it always be like this?)
Presently they stopped for a while, leaning on the railing and looking out at the sparkling blue sea below.
"Your father would have loved this place," Mom remarked, her voice so quiet that for a moment Danny was almost sure he must have misheard.
"Really?" he asked breathlessly, turning his head to look at her.
"Oh, yes," she nodded. "He loved the sea. Every time we went away anywhere, he always wanted somewhere with a sea view, did you never notice?"
"Yeah," Danny said, thinking back. "Yes, I suppose he did."
"He even had a boat for a while when you were very young. I don't suppose you remember. A three hour drive to the coast, and he bought a boat." She shook her head, but for once the smile was almost fond. "He could be so stubborn."
Danny thought back a long way and he could remember wearing a bright yellow life jacket, could remember leaning over the side, trying to catch the waves, and Dad laughing and dragging him back up while Mom yelled. "We went fishing," he remembered. "Dad let me steer the boat."
"That's right," Mom nodded, looking pleased. "Though he never actually let go of the wheel. You were four, Daniel."
He supposed that made sense. And he did remember, but he'd always thought that he was remembering one of the times in Miami and Uncle Ed's boat.
"I made him get rid of the boat shortly afterwards," she added, turning away, her voice blank.
Danny didn't bother asking why. Dad with a boat...he'd be willing to bet that he wasn't the only person Dad entertained onboard. And Mom was stuck at home looking after him. "What did he call it?" he asked instead.
"Ocean's Dream," Mom said, after a second's thought. "I think that I might have a picture of the three of us on board back home, if you're interested."
He tried not to look too hopeful. They'd never taken many photos as a family. He didn't have any photos of Dad. "I'd like that," he said softly.
There was silence for a time.
"I really miss Dad," Danny admitted eventually, very, very quietly and his voice cracked and he stared blindly out at sea as the silence stretched out impossibly.
"Daniel?" Mom said tentatively at last, and he almost jumped at the hand placed gingerly on his arm. "Danny, it will be okay. I promise."
Just because Mom said it, didn't make it so. She didn't have that power.
He closed his eyes and he wasn't crying, he wasn't, and the silent sobs shuddered through him and Mom patted him on the arm and awkwardly murmured incomprehensible soothing nonsense.
Presently, when he'd managed to compose himself, they walked on in silence and he got the impression that Mom was desperately searching for something to say. Personally, he was quite happy with the lack of talking. Now that emotion had retreated a little, for the moment, he was feeling embarrassed and exhausted and vulnerable and the last thing he needed was for Mom to think he was weak.
The silence stayed till they'd walked back down the hill and reached the edge of the park, and Mom pointed at a restaurant on the other side of the street with relief. "How about we have a spot of lunch there?" she suggested.
"Sure," he agreed, and he couldn't quite summon up the energy to care that much.
The restaurant seemed nice enough when they were inside though. The waiter sat them immediately at Mom's imperious gesture, and brought them iced water and the menus.
"I wanted to talk to you, Daniel," Mom said, looking at him intently, after she'd ordered for them both and the waiting staff had made themselves scarce. "About Robert."
He froze. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, no, no. They were not having this conversation. Not now, not ever again. He thought he'd made himself perfectly clear a long time ago. "This isn't a good time, Mom," he said stiffly. There would never be a good time.
She held up a hand in what was obviously meant to be a calming gesture. "I'm not saying you should stop being friends with him, Daniel. This isn't about him, it's about you."
He waited enquiringly.
"Do you ever think that you're too reliant on Robert, Daniel?" she asked abruptly.
Did he think what? "No," he answered shortly.
She sighed and leaned forwards across the table. "I watched you, after your father died. The pair of you. You clung to him and he encouraged it."
He bit the inside of his mouth hard. Rusty hadn't encouraged it like she meant. Rusty had given him everything he needed. Everything he never got from Mom. "Rusty is my friend," he said steadily, the anger boiling away inside. "I was upset and he was there for me. There is nothing wrong with that."
The waiter glided over with their food and laid it down in front of them and there was silence for a few moments, until they were alone again.
He might have hoped that she just dropped the whole thing, but he didn't have that kind of luck.
"That kind of behaviour is just about forgivable in a child, Daniel," she said, laying her knife and fork down on her plate. "But you're almost an adult. You need to start behaving like one."
"Adults don't have friends?" he asked, eyebrows raised. "Huh. You really do learn something new every day, don't you?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Daniel," she snapped. "I'm trying to have a serious conversation here. I'm trying to treat you like a grown up. The least you could do is act like one."
"This is not a serious conversation," he said tersely. "This is a conversation we don't even need to have. I told you a long time ago, you shouldn't make me choose."
"There's no need to be so dramatic," Mom said loudly, and people were turning to look at them. "No one is asking you to choose. I'm not saying you should stop seeing Robert, I'm just suggesting that maybe you should reconsider how close the two of you are. Is this...dependency...really what you want? It makes you weak, Daniel."
"We have very different ideas what makes someone weak," he said, staring at her. Without Rusty, he'd be alone. Without Rusty he'd barely understand what it was to love, to be loved. And that was what Mom wanted for him. He couldn't help but shiver.
Her hand slammed down on the table impatiently and her voice was loud and shrill. "You aren't listening to me. I'm not saying that Robert has deliberately taken advantage of you, but do you honestly want to be in a position where you feel like you can't do without him?"
Danny was already in that position. Danny figured he'd probably been in that position since he was nine years old. And that was nothing to regret. He looked at her evenly. "People are staring, Mom."
She glanced around quickly and flushed with embarrassment and indignation. "They shouldn't be listening," she said, as if that was the point. "We will continue this discussion later, Danny."
Yeah. Danny would rather not.
They finished their meal in awkward, painful silence and he followed Mom outside and into a cab without asking where they were going.
He'd known for a long time now that Mom didn't understand him. That she didn't approve of the things that mattered to him. But he'd always assumed that she didn't approve of him and Rusty because she didn't think that Rusty was good enough for him, because of some twisted sense of social standing. The idea that she'd disapprove even if Rusty was rich...God, it made him angry. Here he was, trying, making an effort to get on with her, and the simple truth was, no matter what he did, it was never, ever going to be enough.
What he had with Rusty...the love, the connection that he never truly tried to understand...it was the brightest light in his life. And she treated it like it was an embarrassing vice.
All the fondness he'd felt this morning as she'd let him talk about Dad was evaporating fast.
The cab took them straight back to the hotel and Mom didn't talk to him, didn't look at him once. Danny sat beside her, his hands resting on his knees, his nails digging into his palms. Normally, this wouldn't happen. Normally, if Mom was in this kind of mood he'd run, he'd go to Rusty until Mom had calmed down a little. But now...he didn't know anyone here. He didn't have anywhere to go. All he could do was go with Mom.
He was glad Yvette wasn't there as he trailed through the lobby after Mom. Right now, he didn't think he wanted to see anyone.
They were hardly through the door of his room when Mom turned on him, and it was like she'd been saving up every scrap of anger.
"Right," she said grimly. "Let me tell you a few things now we're away from the busybodies. This so-called friendship of yours is an embarrassment, but I put up with that as best I can. If you really want to be seen with that boy, I'm not going to stop you. And I admit that there have been times when I've thought he has been a useful friend to you...but that doesn't mean you should get so used to relying on him. You need to expand your horizons, Daniel. You need to get used to standing on your own two feet. Putting yourself first. And you need to cultivate other friendships so you're not so reliant on Robert."
"I have other friends," he said, trying to keep on top of the anger, trying to manage it. "It's just that Rusty is my best friend."
"Really?" she sounded disbelieving. "I never see any of your other friends."
"No shit," he said and as her face darkened, he spoke quickly. "Everyone apart from Rusty stopped coming over to the house some time in fourth grade, when they realised they couldn't spend half an hour at my house without hearing you and Dad screaming at each other. You know how many of the kids in my class have heard you call Dad a useless skirt-chaser? Most of them decided not to come over anymore. Hell, some of them their parents said they didn't want them coming over anymore. Rusty is the only one brave enough to face you for my sake."
For a moment, Mom looked mortified and he realised that she'd never considered that before. Almost immediately though, she rallied. "None of that was my fault! Your father was a useless skirt-chaser," she snapped loudly. "You should be ashamed to be related to him. He was a philanderer and a waste of space, so of course I argued with him on those occasions when he actually bothered to show his face at home." The look she turned on him was bitter and familiar. "The man was worthless and you're his son alright."
His nails were digging into his palms again and he was breathing so hard his chest ached. He loved Dad, he missed Dad, but he didn't want to be like him. He was terrified of being like him. "I'm not – " he started, his voice low and unsteady.
Mom steamrollered over him mercilessly, her voice rising all the time. "He ruined my life. I had to stay at home, looking after you, and he just kept right on gallivanting around with his floozies and whores."
It hurt and it was true, and still he felt the need to speak up for Dad, cos he couldn't speak up for himself anymore. "It's not like you were faithful either," he pointed out desperately. "I know that. There was Mr Dennis when I was a kid, and that parson a few years ago."
Her face turned ugly and she took a step towards him, and for a moment he thought she was going to hit him and it was all he could do to avoid taking a step back. He wasn't gonna let her see he was scared.
She stood inches away from him, practically screaming in his face, the way she'd used to do with Dad. "That was your fault, Daniel! If it wasn't for you, I'd never have married Luke. I'd never have stayed with him, for even a minute. I had to put my career on hold. I had to stay at home and watch you and be a dutiful wife and mother instead of getting on with my life. I gave up everything. And for what? A selfish brat who doesn't even have the grace to be grateful?"
He wanted to argue. He wanted to tell her she was wrong. But at the same time, he wanted to tell her he was sorry, and he wanted to promise that he could do better. Most of all he wanted to run home to Rusty.
"Mom, I – " he tried and he didn't even know exactly what he was going to say.
Not that it mattered. The mere fact he was talking only served to make her angrier. She struck out blindly, her hand slamming against the table beside them and the glass water bottle smashed at Danny's feet. ""I didn't ask to have you! I considered it every day until it was too late. And don't think that your precious father wasn't pressing me to get rid of you, every step of the way. I didn't need to keep you, you know!"
There was a beat of silence, and the misery was shuddering through Danny, almost physically painful. "...I suppose I should thank you for that," he said, his voice soft and hollow.
That seemed to trigger something. Not guilt, exactly, not regret, but Mom took a step back from him, giving him a little more space, and he breathed a little easier.
She wasn't finished though. "I'm very disappointed in you, Daniel. You've been unbelievably rude today and you've been sullen and moody since we left home. I don't care for your attitude at all. I'm going out tonight with Charles. I want you to stay in and think about what you've done. Consider yourself grounded."
"Fine," he snapped, and he didn't know whether it was anger or willpower that was keeping him on his feet. "You enjoy yourself."
She stormed off towards the door without a backwards glance, and suddenly he was remembering his birthday, and the phone call from Dad and the last words that he couldn't take back, and his mouth was dry with terror.
"Mom, I'm sorry," he said, the fearful words dragged out of him.
She didn't look round but she paused in the doorway. "I love you, Daniel. Though God knows, you don't deserve it."
The door slammed behind her.
Danny sank to the floor. He wasn't going to cry. He wasn't. No matter that it felt like something had broken inside him, no matter that he'd never felt so alone in his life, no matter that he wanted Rusty there so bad it hurt.
He sat huddled beside the bed, his knees pulled up to his chest, his arms wrapped around himself, and if he closed his eyes he could pretend that it was Rusty, that Rusty was here holding him, telling him that Mom was wrong to talk to him like that, telling him that he wasn't alone, telling him that none of this was his fault, that he deserved to be loved and taken care of.
Rusty wasn't here though. He was alone.
He was alone and he couldn't stop shaking.
A little time went by and there was a hesitant knock at the door. Probably Mom coming back, wanting to argue some more. He wondered how much trouble he'd get in if he just ignored her.
No, that wasn't an option here.
He stood up unsteadily and rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands, and when he opened the door he was looking as cool and invulnerable as he knew how.
Yvette stood in the doorway, smiling shyly at him. "Hello, Danny. May I come in?"
He blinked, taken aback for a long moment, then he remembered himself and stepped aside graciously. "Of course. Come in."
"Your mother has left," she told him as she walked into the room. "She and Monsieur Brownlie went to a Christmas party together. I do not think they will be back until late tonight."
Oh, God, that was a relief. He gave a sigh of relief. "Thank you."
"You are welcome," she said, looking at him anxiously. "Is she like that often?"
He evaded the question. "You heard, huh?"
She bit her lip. "Everyone heard. There were...complaints. From other guests."
Fuck. He had no doubt he'd be hearing all about that if Mom happened to find out. She hated it when he embarrassed her in public and this certainly qualified. Just the idea of all those people hearing what Mom thought about him... "Fuck," he said aloud, soft and miserable. "I'm sorry."
"I do not think it is you that should be sorry," she said, leaning forwards and kissing him on the cheek. "Ma mere was going to talk to ta mere about the noise, but your mother, she left before she had the opportunity."
"Something to look forward to then," he said lightly.
"I thought I would come up here because I thought you could use a friend," she added and she was looking straight at him and his heart skipped a beat.
"Well, that was very thoughtful of you," he said, smiling dizzily, and he was breathless now for a whole other reason.
She grinned. "And I thought perhaps you might like to take me to le cinema. To get your mind off things."
He thought of the money in his wallet. Mom had been giving it out fairly freely lately. "The movie, and perhaps dinner first?" he suggested. "Just to get my mind off things."
"That sounds perfect," she said, and her smile was full of delight and anticipation.
She reached out and clasped his hand as they were leaving, and he didn't feel so alone.
Since she knew the area, he left her to choose where they ate, and they ended up in a nice little restaurant with bright-red table clothes and low lights.
"I have never been in here," she admitted after they were seated. "But it always looked nice as I walk past."
"It is nice," he agreed, looking round. "Good choice." He smiled warmly and took her hand across the table. "Thank you for coming out with me. You might just be the best thing that's happened to me in a while."
"Oh, Danny. I could be the best thing that's ever happened to you," she told him in an enticing whisper.
He couldn't take his eyes away from her.
They ordered their food and she asked for a bottle of wine and Danny kept his fingers crossed under the table that they didn't ask for ID. He was pretty sure you had to be older to actually buy the stuff. But the waiter didn't even blink and the wine was delicious and they were talking about how she found university, and how it had been difficult to make new friends, and they shared stories about growing up, about movies that they loved and books that they'd read and when the time came for him to pay the bill he was surprised at how quickly time had flown.
The movie started in ten minutes and they ran laughing through the streets and her hand was in his and he felt so happy.
This moment right now made everything seem worthwhile.
They just managed to get to the cinema in time for the movie to start, and Yvette talked to the man in the ticket office, and Danny handed over some money when prompted, and then they were sitting in the back row together and the lights were down, and he hesitantly put his arm around her, and she giggled softly and leaned in closer.
It was inevitable that he didn't follow most of the movie. And if anything Yvette's soft voice whispering explanations in his ear only made it more difficult to follow.
But he understood about Antoine's parents arguing all the time, and about the mother's affair, and the father hitting him. He understood the escape Antoine found in his best friend and the way he turned to petty crime to solve his problems.
And in the end, Antoine's parents abandoned him and Danny buried his face in Yvette's ash-blonde hair and let the heady smell of strawberries overwhelm his disquiet and she lifted her head and kissed him like her life depended on it and he felt so close to her in that moment, felt like this could last forever.
"I always feel sorry for Antoine," Yvette said, as they left the theatre. "He did not really do anything bad."
He grinned, trying to dispel the darker mood. "And that matters? I thought you said you like bad boys?"
"Oh, I do," she assured him, following his lead and twining her fingers through his. "Very much so. And you are such a bad boy, aren't you?"
"Like I said, I have my moments," he told her, smiling.
"Really?" She stepped closer to him, moulding herself against his side as they walked. "What is the worst thing you have ever done?"
The taste of alcohol in his mouth, his fist crashing against the wall, Rusty's eyes, wide and frightened... "The most illegal, you mean?" he asked softly. "Or the worst?"
She gazed at him quickly, her thumb tracing lines over his knuckles and she said nothing for a long moment. "The most illegal," she said at last. "If you do not mind telling me?"
He could tell her that. He could tell her that easy, and he wanted to impress her, wanted to feel that he was different and dangerous and exciting. "Well, it's difficult to categorise these things," he mused lightly. "Would you say that forging checks is more or less illegal than breaking into a shop?"
She stopped walking. "You...you..." She shook her head slowly. "Mon dieu, Danny. Are all American boys like you?"
"Oh, no," he assured her. "I'm completely unique."
She laughed, soft and bell-like and it echoed in the crisp night. "That is good to hear. I do not know that the world is ready for two of you." She was looking at him, and her eyes were warm and intrigued, and she was far from upset by his little revelation. "There is a bar round the corner, would you care to buy me a drink?"
Yes. Oh, yes, very much so, but right now he was driven with the urge to show off. "I'm a little short on cash," he lied, and he watched her face fall and he smiled. "Would you mind waiting there a moment?"
Puzzled, she stood in the doorway and watched, and he crossed the street, heading with disguised purpose, for the distinguished-looking man in the tall hat, and he brushed past without even hesitating, and when he got back to Yvette, he showed her the wallet and her mouth fell open.
"You just stole that," she said, her voice awash with awed admiration.
"Yes," he agreed. "I did. You still want me to buy you a drink?"
"Very much so," she said blankly.
The bar was crowded and it was only by good luck that they managed to get a couple of seats on the end of a table. Even then, it took fifteen minutes for them to actually get a couple of drinks.
"So you steal things," Yvette said, and thankfully she was keeping her voice down at least. "Tell me about it. Please."
He told her. Stories stumbled past his lips and it got easier and easier as he grew in confidence and she looked at him with amazement and wonder. Stories of places they'd broken into, thefts they'd pulled off. Things he'd never told anyone before. Things that only he and Rusty knew. And she looked at him like he was the hero in their own little story, and it made him feel warm inside.
"It sounds incredible," she said with a sigh when he stopped talking, and her bare foot was caressing his leg, and his hand was on his, and every touch was electric. "So exciting."
"Oh, yes," he agreed, and he didn't know if he meant then or now.
"We should be heading back," she said reluctantly. "Mama does not like it if I am out past midnight."
He hadn't realised it was quite so late. Reality came crashing back. God, if Mom had noticed he was gone after she told him he was grounded...he could be in a lot of trouble here. "Sure," he agreed unhappily.
She must have noticed something in his look. "The Christmas party, it is one that Monsieur Brownlie attends every year," she reassured him. "He is never back before two o'clock in the morning. I do not think your mother will ever notice you have gone."
"Thanks," he said with a soft smile.
She leaned forwards and kissed him tenderly. "You are my bad boy, but I do not wish you to get into trouble."
Somehow, he liked the idea she was looking out for him. It made him feel...deserving.
They walked back to the hotel in happy silence, and when she shivered slightly, he took his jacket off and draped it carefully over her shoulders. She smiled at him and never said a word.
They stood in the lobby by the elevator, and Danny wondered if he should invite her up to his room, wondered if he dared, wondered if she'd say yes. He'd never felt this way before.
"Goodnight, Danny," she said at last.
"Goodnight," he echoed, and he knew he'd lost the moment. "Can I see you again?"
"How about tomorrow?" she offered.
From experience, he knew that Mom would still be mad at him. Probably she wouldn't even want to see him until the evening at least. Maybe not even then. "How about brunch?" he suggested. "I'll meet you in that cafe from yesterday."
"It's a date," she told him, and she leaned forwards and kissed him, and it was a long, perfect moment when there were no other thoughts in his head but the girl in his arms.
"Tomorrow," she said with a giggle when they broke apart. "Eleven o'clock. Don't be late."
He wouldn't. And it was a date. Their second date. Third, if you counted the park yesterday.
He walked up to his room in a kind of daze and threw himself on the bed, not even bothering to take his shoes off.
God, he wanted to talk to Rusty about this. He wasn't sure where this was going. Wasn't even sure where he wanted it to go. All he knew was that she made him feel amazing and she made him feel special, and he didn't want it to end. But he was only here for four more days.
If it wasn't for Rusty, he'd be tempted to stay right now. On the very edge of sleep, he imagined it. Imagined somehow finding enough money to send to Rus' so he could get a plane ticket out here. Imagined the two of them living here...he'd find work, somehow. Enough to get by, and Rusty would be thousands of miles away from his Dad, safe and sound and happy, and Danny would have Rusty and he'd have Yvette and he'd never have to worry about anything again.
It was all impossible. But God, it was a nice fantasy to fall asleep to.
He waited in the diner for hours, trying to convince himself that Rusty would show up any minute. It got dark quickly. Rusty didn't come.
Rusty was never late to meet him. Not out of choice anyway.
Something was wrong.
He left the diner and hurried round to Rusty's apartment building. Or at least he tried to. The streets were familiar, and he was on the right block, but the building wasn't there. Instead the two neighbouring buildings joined together like there'd never been anything between them.
Panicked, he grabbed the arm of a passing stranger. "Excuse me, sir, but where did the building go?"
The stranger frowned down at him, and suddenly it wasn't a stranger, it was Dad. "You got rid of it, Danny. Sometimes getting rid of people is the right thing to do."
"No!" he protested, stepping away from Dad. "No, I didn't do that."
The street was suddenly thick with people, pressing in all around him, and Dad was carried off into the crowd, and Danny knew that once he lost sight of Dad he'd never see him again, but he needed to go and find Rusty because Rusty was lost.
"Dad!" he screamed, and Dad just waved back, uncaringly. "Dad, don't leave! Please!"
The crowd was jostling him now, kicking and elbowing and hurting, and he couldn't escape and they were carrying him away, and he stumbled and nearly fell and when he looked back up Dad was gone.
"No!" he moaned.
Not again. Oh, God, he'd lost Dad all over again and he'd just got him back.
There was a scream somewhere in the distance, somewhere behind him. Rusty. His heart quickened. Rusty was somewhere close by, being hurt, and he had to get to him.
He had to get to Rusty and he had to get to Dad, and he couldn't even move.
"My bad boy," Yvette murmured and she was standing untouched in the midst of the crowd.
He turned to her desperately. "Help me," he begged. "Please."
She looked at him uncomprehendingly.
"Go and find my Dad," he pleaded. "Bring him back here. I need to get Rusty."
"It's too late," she told him, and he knew in that moment that Dad was dead, that Rusty was dead and they weren't coming back, they weren't ever coming back, and the crowd gathered tighter around him, and he couldn't even see Yvette anymore, and they pushed him to the ground, buried him beneath them, and he couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe and Rusty was dead and Dad was dead and he was screaming...
He woke up in a cold sweat, his teeth tearing into his lip to hide the scream.
Nightmare. Just a nightmare.
It was dark and he was shivering and he was alone.
He huddled under the blankets and wished.
Rusty woke up shivering and aching. Sleeping under the bed might currently be warmer than sleeping on the bed, but it wasn't exactly comfortable. Mmm. Maybe tonight he'd take all the clothes he wasn't wearing and make a mattress out of them. Would be kinder on his back anyhow.
He crawled out and stood up slowly, still wrapped in his blanket. If possible it was even colder this morning. Considering the wind howling in the window, louder than ever, he went to have a look in case it had managed to rattle itself apart in the night.
It hadn't. But outside was completely blanketed in white and the stuff was still falling. There had to be six inches there at least.
Fuck. He stared moodily out of the window for a while, chewing on his lip. If it was as bad as it looked, how many people would be out shopping? If there were no shoppers then he wouldn't get money and the apartment would stay cold and dark.
No point in worrying about it immediately. Someone would surely be out. And maybe he'd have to be less discriminating than he really liked to be, but even thought it was Christmas, he still had to live.
First things first, he really should get cleaned up a bit. And that wasn't gonna be any fun at all at these temperatures. Giving himself a quick once over at the sink would be a lot easier, but even a cold shower would get him a whole lot cleaner.
The need to be clean won out in the end. People noticed a dirty kid after all. But he couldn't help but cry out when the not-quite-frozen water hit his body. This was how he imagined it would feel like to go swimming at the North Pole.
Afterwards he dressed as quickly as possible, replacing the layers of newspaper and pulling on three tops and four pairs of pants. He grinned at his reflection in the mirror; if Mabel saw him looking like this she'd stop worrying about him being too skinny for a while at least.
Speaking of which...
He went through to the kitchen, grabbed the box of frosted flakes and ate a few handfuls straight out of the box. Alright. Plan today was to head back to the department store, but he might as well count up his money first.
Took him a moment to carefully go through all his pockets, digging out his takings and he carefully spread it over the floor, notes in one pile, coins in another, and started counting.
One hundred and three dollars and eighty four cents.
That wasn't bad. Better than he'd been thinking, honestly.
So he had to make at least sixty five dollars by tomorrow lunchtime. That sounded doable. Even in this weather.
His carefully hid half the money along with the tape player, and the other half in the crack in his wall beneath the window, and headed out the door, stopping only to grab his coat off the floor. Ugh. His coat was still unpleasantly damp and cold.
Outside and the snow wasn't quite as bad as it had looked. Certainly it was only falling a little, so he stuffed his hands deep in his pockets and started walking towards the department store, lost in thought.
Five more days till Danny came back. He hoped Danny was okay. Wasn't the first Christmas Danny had spent without his Dad, of course, but it still wasn't going to be easy and Danny had been so miserable lately, so angry. And yes, Danny's Mom was making an effort...but she didn't like it when Danny was upset and not in the way that Rusty didn't like it. Sometimes it seemed like she'd rather Danny didn't have any emotions at all.
Was he being unkind to think that Danny's Mom would never put Danny first? He had a horrible feeling he was being realistic.
And that left him with unpleasant visions of Danny's Mom getting fed up of Danny, running off to do her own thing and leaving Danny upset and alone, in a strange city, and that was almost too awful to contemplate. Danny could look after himself, Rusty knew that. Only right now he shouldn't have to.
His train of thought was neatly derailed when he walked round the corridor smack into Norris, Chuck and Bill.
None of them had any particular reason to love him and Danny, and right now Norris was staring at him like it was Christmas.
Apparently finding Rusty on his own was enough of a present.
God, these guys must really be bored.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't Ocean's little sidekick," Norris said gleefully.
"Hello, Norrie," Rusty grinned. There was a school of thought that suggested it wasn't smart to taunt those who were bigger and stronger than he was, but Rusty hated backing down.
Norris' face darkened noticeably. "Don't call me that," he hissed. "Especially not when Ocean's not here to save your neck."
Right. Norris didn't think he could take the two of them, so he thought that maybe he and his friends could go after Rusty. He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Anyone ever tell you that you're really boring?" he asked. "Oh, and predictable. Boring and predictable and not even a little bit frightening."
"Oh, you're going to be frightened," Norris assured him, recovering slightly. "You're going to be in for a world of fear."
"Uh huh," Rusty agreed unmoved. "Whatever you say, Norrie."
Norris changed tactics abruptly, looking at Chuck with an expression of glee. "Say, you know what I'm going to buy with my Christmas money?"
"No," Chuck said obediently. "What?"
"Ryan's Mom," Norris crowed. "You want in with me? I hear she gives discounts for group bookings."
Rusty let the words wash over his head and reminded himself for the hundredth time that he didn't even care about Mom. "So what you're saying is you can't even get laid without one of your little friends being there to cheer you on?" he asked. "That's really pitiful, Norrie."
Norris took a menacing step forwards and Rusty stepped back quickly, standing against the low wall behind him, and he scooped up a handful of snow behind his back.
The punch that came towards him was entirely expected and completely signalled, and he ducked under it easily, reaching up and forcing the handful of snow down the back of Norris' neck, and Norris squealed loud, high and girlish, and Rusty had already turned his attention to Chuck and Bill, far faster than they could react, and he kicked Chuck hard in the side of the knee, at the same time as he punched Bill in the side, seeking out his kidneys. By the soft grunt of pain, he guessed he'd found them. Oh, he knew what hurt.
Norris was pawing frantically at his jacket, and Bill was doubled up and breathing hard, but Chuck was still standing and glaring at him, and this wasn't over, not by a long way, and he seriously doubted he had a hope of winning.
"That's enough!" a voice suddenly commanded, and a second later a woman was standing between them, glaring at Rusty.
He blinked, his fists still clenched, and he was confident he'd never seen her before in his life.
"Now you leave those poor boys alone, you little hooligan," she shouted at him.
Huh. He wondered if she'd even noticed that there were three of them and one of him, and he was half a head shorter than the smallest of them. He guessed that the point was that he'd thrown the first connecting punch. And he was winning.
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself," she went on fiercely, and Norris and his cronies were laughing fit to burst behind her back. "Look at you running around getting into fights in this weather. Do your parents even know where you are? Look at you out here with no gloves even. It's a disgrace."
She seemed to have run out of steam for the moment. Which was good. Grateful as he might be for the interruption, he wasn't exactly keen on being lectured.
He gave her a slight nod and started walking away.
"You stop right there, young man," she shrieked, and Rusty wondered why in the world he'd do that. "You're going to come back here and apologise to these boys."
He turned his head slightly. "No I'm not," he said levelly, and as she spluttered, he carried on walking.
Thankfully she didn't follow him.
And he could be pretty sure that Norris wouldn't either. Right now he'd watched Rusty get a lecture for being a hooligan. That was probably as much of a victory as Norris really wanted to risk. He might like to look tough, but he knew that if he hit Rusty there'd be consequences. And not just a lecture from some strange woman either.
Still she had a point though.
Gloves. What a good idea. He'd never had a pair of gloves before and now he couldn't think why he hadn't thought of it earlier. He'd pick some up in the department store.
The day went much the as yesterday. If anything, the store was more crowded and more full of people who were rude and yelling. Way he figured it, if they weren't going to play by the true-meaning-of-Christmas bullshit, there was no reason for him to.
Of course, they kept the store warmer than outside, and after less than an hour, he was overheating. With a grimace, he snuck into the restroom and removed the layers of newspaper. Oh, that was better. He could always pick up some more tonight.
He wandered back into the department store and got to work. Money just sort of fell into his pocket and by the time it was getting dark outside he was confident that if he wasn't at his target, he was only a couple of dollars shy.
Everything, in other words, was going just fine and he headed round to the kids' department to check out gloves. He was admiring a purple-striped pair when he was suddenly conscious of someone staring at him. A sort of prickling on the back of his neck that set all his instincts screaming.
He put the gloves down carefully and glanced around casually like he was just checking out the other displays, searching for who and why.
Fuck.
He only just managed to keep from reacting. Standing at the other side of the aisle was the store detective from the other department store. The one who'd suspected them. And, safe to say, he'd been recognised.
Recognised but not spotted surely. Yes, if he'd been shoplifting they might have waited for him to try and leave the store so they could catch him red-handed. But he hadn't, he'd been lifting wallets and surely if they'd caught him in the act, they'd have done something.
On the other hand if they'd had reports that there was a pickpocket operating...He gritted his teeth. Time to leave. Right now. Except the man was still watching him and he didn't want to look panicked.
He turned back to the gloves thoughtfully. Maybe if he actually bought something...?
"Rusty!"
Well that was unexpected.
He turned to see Brady Taggart beaming at him. "Hi, Rusty. Fancy seeing you here."
"Hey, Brady," he smiled, and at least that looked normal. "Happy Christmas."
"Yeah, you too," Brady nodded. "Are you having a good vacation?"
"It's been different," Rusty said truthfully. "How about you?"
"Oh, it's great," Brady enthused. "Except Mom dragged me here to get a new tie to visit Grandma." He rolled his eyes.
Rusty grinned. "Tough," he sympathised.
"There should be some sort of rule about wearing ties at Christmas," Brady complained. He glanced behind Rusty, frowning. "Is Danny here?"
"No, his Mom took him to France for Christmas," Rusty explained.
"Oh." Brady blinked. "That's good, I guess?" He hesitated. "Wouldn't he have rather stayed with you though?" he asked, stumbling over the words quickly.
Mmm. Rusty smiled. "France is a nice place. He's probably found some pretty mademoiselle already."
"Right." Brady nodded quickly. "I didn't mean anything."
"'s cool," Rusty assured him.
"So how come you're here?" Brady went on hurriedly.
"Looking at gloves," Rusty explained.
Brady followed his gaze. "They're very...purple. And a little pink."
"Yeah," Rusty agreed contentedly.
"You going to buy them?" Brady asked.
"Not right now," Rusty said, and the store detective wasn't looking his way anymore. Probably due to how completely non-criminal Brady looked. Rusty wished he could take lessons.
"Are you busy?" Brady asked suddenly. "Would you like to come over to my house for a while? Mom won't mind."
At that moment Brady's Mom walked around the corner, holding a bag that contained rather more than a tie. "There you are Brady. I thought I told you to stay – "
" – Mom, can Rusty come over?" Brady asked excitedly before Rusty could even think of saying anything.
Brady's Mom blinked and seemed to see him for the first time. She smiled warmly. "Oh, hello, Rusty dear. I haven't seen you for a while. Are you here with your father?" She looked around hopefully.
"Good afternoon, Mrs Taggart," Rusty answered politely. "No, I'm just here on my own."
"I see. Well, you're certainly welcome to come over for a while," she nodded.
"Brilliant!" Brady grinned excitedly.
Rusty hesitated. Walking out with Brady and his mother would certainly allay more of the detectives suspicions than if he just slunk off by himself. And more than that, he wanted to go. Brady might not be his best friend, might never know any of his secrets, but he sat with Brady and his friends in class, and he enjoyed spending time with Brady, even though Brady seemed so very young. And the idea of spending some time with a friend right now...oh, it was tempting.
He almost had the money after all. Surely he could pick up the rest tonight, if need be.
"I'd love to," he said with a smile. "Thank you, Mrs Taggart."
"That's settled then," Mrs Taggart beamed. "Have you got your shopping, Rusty?"
His eyes flickered sideways to the gloves for the briefest of seconds. "I'm done."
"Okay then. We're parked in the lot downstairs, so we can just take the elevator." Mrs Taggart said, ushering them towards the elevator on the far wall.
They were gonna have to walk past the store detective.
Rusty hoped almost more than anything else right now that he didn't get arrested in front of Brady and his Mom. He wasn't ashamed of what he did, not by any means, but he knew he couldn't explain it and he could easily imagine the looks on their faces.
He concentrated on looking relaxed and happy and all the time he was chatting to Brady about how ridiculous Mrs Leach had looked on the last day of term in that elf hat, and they drew level with the detective, walked past, and he could feel the eyes boring into the back of his skull, and he was just waiting for the shouting.
It never came.
And they were in the elevator down in the parking lot, driving away, and Rusty was grinning and giddy.
Not that it mattered. He sat in the backseat with Brady and they were talking about the class Christmas party, and the look on Miss Farrow's face when the audio tape of Children's Classic Christmas Carols had somehow mysteriously been replaced by the Springsteen tape that Rusty had borrowed from Buzz for the afternoon.
"I don't know how you think of these things," Brady laughed.
Rusty shrugged, grinning. "I just wanted better music." He glanced quickly into the rear view mirror during the story, suddenly wondering just how Mrs Taggart was taking all this, hoping she wasn't listening.
Huh. She was. And she was smiling.
Well, that was good. He didn't want to get Brady in trouble.
It took them about half an hour to drive to Brady's house. It was hardly more than a mile away from where Rusty lived, but the feel of the neighbourhood was completely different. Not nearly as upmarket as where Danny lived, but somehow...friendlier. And right now festooned with Christmas decorations. The department store hadn't had this many blinking lights and plastic reindeer. It was bright and tacky and Rusty had to admit, he loved it.
Practically as soon as they got in the house, Brady's Mom asked them to take the dogs out for a walk, and they headed out to the park, ran through the snow, threw snowballs for the dogs to catch, and it was cold but he was smiling.
Then, when they got back, Brady suggested that they made a snowman on the front lawn, and Rusty countered with the idea of a snow monster, and the daylight faded away as they played, and the six-foot tall, six-armed monstrosity with rows of sharp cardboard teeth was surely a result to be proud of. Rusty was laughing and right now his problems seemed far away.
And when Brady's Dad came home and ushered them outside, after admiring their snowmonster, everyone just assumed he was staying for dinner.
He should say no, he knew that. Unappealing as it sounded, he should go home to his cold, dark apartment, because he was standing here with fifty dollars of other people's money in his pocket and he should be trying for more, and he always hated feeling like he was scrounging food off his classmates.
He said yes and he didn't even really know why.
They were sent through to the living room until dinner was ready, mugs of hot chocolate in hand, and Brady was urging him to eat the marshmallows before they melted, and he was arguing that they were better that way.
The living room was dominated by a huge Christmas tree. It was almost too tall for the room, and lovingly decorated with shiny red baubles, little wooden figures, and wonky cardboard stars and other shapes dipped in glitter that Brady must have made a long time ago.
It was beautiful.
Rusty stared at it silently for a long time, a raw ache deep inside him that he didn't understand.
Brady put his hand gently on Rusty's arm and Rusty flinched away.
Immediately he recovered himself, turning to Brady with a smile plastered on his face. "Miles away, sorry. That's a really nice tree."
"Yeah," Brady agreed quietly. There was guilt on his face. Rusty chose to ignore it.
Fortunately, they were called for dinner not long longer, and he followed Brady through and sat down where he was shown. Wasn't the first time he'd had dinner at Brady's, so thankfully he knew the routine. Knew to wait until Grace was said, knew that talking was okay, knew about how fast people ate so he could automatically match them – knew, in short, how to look polite and unremarkable. And that was all fine, and normally he'd wait until everyone else had started eating before he ate anything, needing to be sure it was okay, and normally he'd make sure that he took smaller portions than everyone else, but Brady took the serving spoon out of his hand and added another slice of ham to his plate and two more scoops of potato.
He turned to stare and Brady was looking scared but defiant, and there was no way he could say anything without drawing Brady's parents' attention.
Brady had used to do that sort of thing back when they were kids, he remembered. He thought it was something to do with guilt.
He looked away, and when everyone else had knives and forks in hand, he ate his food.
"How's your friend," Mrs Taggart asked him suddenly. "Danny, isn't it? Brady told us about his father. Just awful. How's he holding up?"
He laid his fork down on his plate carefully. "He's doing okay," he said, and he hoped that was the truth right now. He didn't think about fights and too much alcohol, or the look in Danny's eyes when he woke after a nightmare, or days of exhaustion and apathy.
"That's good," Mrs Taggart said with a sigh. "He's so young. Please, tell him we're thinking of him."
"I will," Rusty promised, and maybe he would.
"Brady was saying that you were off school keeping him company," Mr Taggart added. "You're a very good friend. He's lucky to have you."
Huh. Rusty wasn't sure how sincere that was. He thought maybe there was a hint there that Rusty shouldn't have been allowed to skip school like that. Well, there was a decision he was never gonna apologise for. Danny had needed him.
Time to deflect. He turned his head and smiled at Brady. "Brady was kind enough to lend me his notes and give me a note of all the assignments I'd missed, so I was able to get caught up in no time," he said truthfully. He hadn't asked Brady for that, hadn't thought to, but he'd thanked Brady a few dozen times since, and Brady had just shrugged and said he still owed them for the golf clubs, and for making everyone stop calling him doughball, and for a handful of other things that Rusty wouldn't even think of. As far as he was concerned, he still owed Brady for sticking up for him with that supply teacher three years back, and for a thousand times when they'd been children and Rusty had looked to Brady to copy normal behaviour. But Brady didn't really know about those times, so that wasn't an argument.
"That was very thoughtful of him," Brady's Dad said, smiling at his son with warm pride and affection.
"Yeah," Rusty agreed, and Brady ducked his head.
"So how are you finding this science project, Rusty?" Mrs Taggart asked him.
"The constellations?" He thought fast and decided to be truthful. "I've not really thought about it yet."
"Dad's taking me to the planetarium in the city," Brady told him enthusiastically. "My uncle knows someone who works there so I reckon I can get a whole lot of neat pictures. Do you want to come too?"
The offer was genuine and maybe even a little hopeful, but Rusty just couldn't risk going along with it. For one thing, he thought that did sound like a great way of doing the project, and that might just draw more attention than he wanted. For another thing, from experience he knew that Brady's parents would want to talk to Dad before taking him anywhere, and that just wasn't going to happen. Ever. "Nah," he smiled at Brady. "Thank you, but no. I'll work on my own thing. Don't want Mr Lemmon to think I'm copying or anything. You know he has it in for me."
Thankfully, Brady took the bait. "He wouldn't hate you so much if you hadn't set fire to the desk."
"Accident," Rusty protested immediately. "Just an accident." In that he hadn't known what would happen, but he'd been quite intrigued to find out. That counted as an accident, right?
Of course, Brady's parents immediately wanted to hear the story, and the matter of the project was set aside.
While they were helping clear the table, Mrs Taggart turned to him with a look he couldn't quite categorise. Hopeful? Uncertain? Anxious? "Have you heard from your mother lately, Rusty?"
"Oh, yes," he said at once. "She sent me a Christmas card and some money last week. And a gift, but Dad won't let me open it yet."
She relaxed noticeably. In fact, she was practically beaming. "Good. That's good," was all she said. "I can't imagine..." She broke off awkwardly.
Yeah. He was sure she couldn't imagine. He could see that when she looked at Brady.
He was aware of Brady frowning at him, but it wasn't until they were up in Brady's room and alone that Brady actually asked. "You didn't actually hear from your Mom last week, did you?"
Obviously Brady was pretty convinced he already knew the answer. And that meant that lying might just be more trouble than it was worth. He sighed. "No," he admitted tersely.
Brady nodded and didn't look surprised. "How come you lied to my Mom?"
"It's better to give people what they want to hear," he explained after a moment. "There's a lot of things that adults...people...don't want to know. I prefer to give the answers that'll make them happy."
Brady nodded again, hesitant as though he wasn't quite sure if he agreed or not.
Rusty turned away from him hurriedly, and inspected a cage on the dresser with a smile. Three little mice were running around inside, and he stopped down to watch them, still smiling.
"Their names are – " Brady began.
" – Patch and Smudge," Rusty stated without looking round. "And Olaf the Brown."
Brady was staring at him.
He turned and shrugged. "You told me before."
"Months back, when I took Olaf," Brady agreed. "How'd you remember?"
"I listen when you talk," he said, and Brady's eyes softened and Rusty bit his lip guiltily, and wished he could say that it wasn't so special as all that.
"You want to play Stop Thief?" Brady asked eagerly, holding up a board game and Rusty smiled and nodded.
The evening passed in a succession of games, and they were laughing and playing and having fun, and for once Rusty didn't feel so impossibly older.
Must have been around nine when Mrs Taggart stuck her head round the door. "I think it's time we were getting you home, Rusty," she said.
"Aw, Mom," Brady objected instantly. "Can't Rusty stay over?"
He cursed himself for the sudden dart of hope that pierced straight through him.
(It was warm and he wasn't alone.)
"I would need to check with your father," Mrs Taggart began doubtfully, and Rusty was already shaking his head.
"Dad's expecting me home," he explained. "He's working late tonight and if I'm not home when he gets back, he'll worry." He smiled brightly and continued airily. "I should probably be heading home now, actually."
Brady looked disappointed. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah," he said assuredly. He shouldn't stay here, being soft.
"Okay, I'll drive you home," Mrs Taggart offered.
"No," he objected immediately. The weather was awful. "It's not far, I can get back myself just fine."
"I'm not letting you walk home in this weather yourself, Rusty," she told him, frowning like it was the most ridiculous plan she'd ever heard. "It's dark out there and still icy."
Huh. He'd be out in it soon enough regardless. But he didn't think he was going to win the argument, and everything he could possibly say was problematic. Likely to cause concern. He resisted the urge to sigh and instead smiled graciously. "Well, thank you, Mrs Taggart," he said, getting up obediently.
"Oh, come on, the game's not finished yet," Brady objected. "We can have another half hour, right Mom?"
She hesitated for a moment. "Ten minutes," she said finally with a smile. "I'll see you downstairs."
"That's not even long enough to finish the game," Brady said glumly, surveying the board.
"It is if we play quickly," Rusty said firmly.
They did. Rusty winning by getting his little guys to corner the thieves in the bank. He didn't know why anyone would walk into a vault without an escape plan anyway.
"We'd better go find your Mom," he said, standing up again, strangely reluctant.
"Yeah," Brady agreed, sounding just as dejected. "You know, I bet you could persuade Mom to let you stay over if you really put your mind to it."
It was always a good idea to not outstay your welcome, Rusty thought. No matter how tempting it might be sometimes. "Nah," he grinned. "I really do need to get home, Brady."
"Right," Brady said with a sigh. He rummaged around in a drawer for a moment and came out with a pair of black gloves which he held out.
Rusty made no move to take them.
"Uh, here," Brady prompted.
Mutely, he shook his head, anger and hurt quietly simmering. Maybe he didn't have much right to it, but he still had his pride. He didn't need pity and he sure as hell didn't need charity. And Brady was his friend and Brady shouldn't just go and offer him stuff like that. He'd accept things from Danny. No one else.
Brady obviously saw something in his face, because he ploughed on. "Look, I know they're not purple, but, uh, I saw...your hands must be cold and I mean...I thought...they're just a loan, if you like. You can give me them back in class, if I don't see you before."
A loan? He hesitated, looking carefully at Brady, trying to figure out if he meant it, trying to figure out if he could live with it.
Maybe...
He stretched his hand and slowly took them. "I'll give you them back the first day of school," he promised. "Thank you."
"It's no big deal," Brady said, sounding embarrassed. "They're just gloves."
He smiled, knowing that Brady understood.
The only problem was the gloves didn't fit into his jeans pocket and he'd left his coat downstairs, leaving him creeping downstairs with the gloves carefully clutched against his chest, and Brady walked behind him, watching him quizzically.
"Are you ready, Rusty?" Mrs Taggart's voice came from the hallway behind him, just when he'd about reached his coat.
Startled, he span around, automatically hiding the gloves behind his back.
She was looking at him with a frown on her face.
Fuck. Pretty clear she'd seen something.
"What have you got there?" she asked, her voice puzzled.
His mind was flooded with memory; being a lot younger and standing in Danny's hallway, Danny's Mom glaring down at him, the turtleneck Danny had lent him to hide the bruises on his throat and arms being hauled off him, standing there in his bloody t-shirt, shaking and waiting for the blow, the contemptuous little huff as she walked away and she never said a word.
Mrs Taggart took a step closer and he flinched and tried to back away, tried to keep the way he was measuring the distance from here to the door from being too obvious.
"What's going on?" Mr Taggart asked, stepping out into the hall, and this just went from bad to worse.
Not exactly many options here, and Brady was still staring at him like he had no idea what was going on.
Silently he took the gloves out from behind his back and held them out.
If anything, Mrs Taggart looked even more puzzled. "Are those your old gloves, Brady? " she asked.
"Yeah, I gave them to Rusty. Lended them," he corrected.
"I was going to give them back," Rusty explained quickly. "First day back to school, I'd have given them back."
"I'm sure you will," Mrs Taggart agreed, but she wasn't looking at him, she was looking at Brady. Smiling like she'd never been so proud, and Mr Taggart was beaming too.
Huh. Cautiously, he relaxed.
"Well," Mrs Taggart said after a second. "Rusty, we'd better get you home. Put your coat and gloves on."
Goodbyes said, he followed Mrs Taggart outside to the car. The drive back home was awkward to say the least, but fortunately the weather was bad enough that she was concentrating on her driving, and he didn't have to make more than the minimum of conversation. And thankfully quickly, the car pulled up outside his apartment building, and he climbed out as quickly as he could. "Thank you so much for the ride, Mrs Taggart. And thank you for dinner too."
"No problem at all, Rusty," she said simply. "You really must come over more often."
That wouldn't happen. But it was nice of her to say so.
He was fortunate enough to be able to lift a newspaper that someone had thrown away in the hallway on his way upstairs. First couple of pages were a little damp, but the rest should do nicely. Which was just as well as when he got upstairs the apartment was colder than ever. He'd swear that there wasn't any difference now from outside.
Grimacing, he covered himself with a couple of layers of newspaper and sat huddled on the sofa, staring at the candle light.
He shouldn't have gone to Brady's. That had been stupid and that had been weak. He hadn't truly had the time to spare, and now he felt even colder. Best not to think about what he was missing out on.
He was tired, but he went out anyway, wandering the streets and picking up as much money as he could, hoping it would make a difference.
By the time he got in again, the cold and the exhaustion were inside his bones and his hands were shaking so much it took him six attempts to get the door open. He knew it wasn't going to get better. It was all he could do to put one foot in front of the other. His bedroom was a step too far. He'd left the blanket lying on the living room floor that morning, and with numb fingers he managed to pull it up over himself and he lay curled on the sofa, taking up as little space as possible.
He lay shivering, listening to his teeth chatter. People didn't freeze to death in their own homes, he reminded himself. This was uncomfortable, but it'd be over tomorrow and he'd be fine.
One more night. That was all.
He just had to get through tonight.
And better than that, because four days and Danny would be home and they would be back to normal, and he could take care of Danny and know Danny was okay. That was all he wanted.
He just had to get through tonight first of all.
He waited in the diner for hours, trying to convince himself that Danny would show up any minute. It got dark quickly. Danny didn't come.
Danny was never late to meet him. Not ever.
Something was wrong.
He hurried round to Danny's house, and the streets were heavy with snow. Everything was blanket white, and he couldn't see six inches in front of him. It was cold, and he stumbled through the streets, and it seemed to take so much longer than it ever had before, and despite the fact that he must have walked this way a thousand times before, the streets all looked strangely unfamiliar and deserted, and he felt himself hurrying even more, unaccountably afraid.
From time to time he caught sight of his friends through strangely open windows, saw them with their families celebrating Christmas, Magical trees, shiny presents, tables groaning with food, warmth and love and laughter. Even if he wanted to, there was no way for him to join in. He was on the outside and it was cold.
Eventually, out of nowhere, he found himself standing outside Danny's house and it was cold and dark and forbidding. And empty.
Danny hadn't come home to him.
He had to know that Danny was alright.
He walked and searched for months and months, and finally he found himself standing in a hallway somewhere. He didn't know where he was. Hadn't the first clue. But it was a long way from home.
There was a door at the end of the hallway. It was dark and forbidding. Shadows pooled around it unnaturally and Rusty looked at it and knew that it was the last place he ever wanted to go.
But that didn't matter because Danny was in the hallway, standing in front of him, and it had been years since Rusty had seen him, years and years, and he looked so much older and he hadn't aged a day.
"Danny!" he cried out gladly, and he rushed forwards, wrapping his arms tightly around Danny. "You didn't come back. I was worried."
Danny made no effort to return the hug and the world got just a little bit impossibly colder. The wind was howling in here too.
"Hello, Rusty," Danny said at last. "Sorry I didn't meet you. But I had to find my Dad."
He stared for a second. "You can't," he said quietly. "Danny, he's gone."
Danny shook his head, disagreeing. "No, he's just through there," he said. "I'm sorry. I have to leave you now. You just aren't enough." He took a step towards the door and to Rusty's horror it was open a fraction now, and he could just make out the shape of a figure standing there, and the familiar smell of blood pervaded the air.
Rusty bit his lip. Danny didn't even sound like Danny. "Wait," he begged.
"You let me go off alone," Danny added plaintively as he walked away. "You left me to deal with Mom and my nightmares by myself. So now I'm going to Dad. He'll treat me like I deserve." He took another step towards the door.
"Don't!" Rusty reached out and caught Danny's sleeve, desperately trying to pull Danny away, back where it was safe.
Danny turned round quickly, his hand raised, his eyes filled with fury. This time he didn't miss.
The pain exploded in his cheek as he fell back, letting go of Danny in the process, and Danny stood there a second later, regarding him, his eyes blank, devoid of regret and remorse.
And then he was gone.
He disappeared through the door and Rusty tried to follow, screaming Danny's name frantically, but the door had vanished. There was nothing there but smooth wall, and somewhere behind it he could hear Danny's father screaming at Danny, could hear the awful insults, the hatred, and then the whistling of a belt flying through the air, the crack as it hit flesh, the unbearable gasp of pain and Rusty was screaming, hammering desperately on the wall, trying to break it down through force of will alone, and Danny's father wasn't going to stop the beating anytime soon, and it should be him, Danny shouldn't be hurt like this, it should only be him...
"Danny!" He woke up abruptly, sitting up the blanket falling off him, and his breath hung in the air in short, ragged bursts.
Nightmare. Just a nightmare.
It was dark and he was shivering and he was alone.
He lay back down, huddled under the blanket and wished.