A/N: 13th piece of Advent fic! We're really getting the hang of this. Also InSilva wishes me to tell you that it is all my fault. She's probably right...
A/N2: This is a very short chapter, for which I apologise, but after having gone back and forwards on it, I decided I wanted to stick to one day per chapter. It's a consistency thing, which is always unexpected from 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 & 40) 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.
25th December 1978
Christmas morning and Danny didn't wake up until the knock at the door. He sat up quickly, grimacing at the painful crick in his neck, and carefully unpeeling the paper from his face. He stood up, stretching, and hurried to the door, and maybe he was a little surprised to see Mom standing there. He'd been trying not to think about it, but he had considered that Mom might just not spend Christmas with him. But here she was, and the smile burst out of him. "Happy Christmas, Mom!"
"Happy Christmas, Daniel," she said, a little stiffly, but that didn't matter. "I thought we could eat breakfast together. There is a buffet downstairs."
He nodded eagerly. "Sounds great. Just let me get ready first, please."
She pursed her lips irritably but nodded in agreement. "I'll be waiting next door," she told him.
When the door closed he let out a breath he hadn't even known he was holding, and practically sprinted into the bathroom, getting showered and dressed quicker than he would have thought possible. She was here, she was talking to him, she hadn't said anything cutting or disparaging, and she wasn't yelling. Now all he had to do was get through the rest of the day without doing anything to fuck that up. With that in mind, he selected a crisp white shirt and a dark blue tie, as well as a pair of starched black slacks. Clothes that Mom would approve of. Clothes that made him look like a kid Mom might actually want to know. Clothes that didn't feel comfortable in the slightest, but that was a price he was willing to pay.
He gathered Mom's presents and card together before he went next door. God, he hoped she liked them.
It was a couple of moments between when he knocked and when Mom answered. He spent the time trying to polish his shoes on the back of his slacks. Eventually Mom opened the door and he smiled and held her presents out. "Happy Christmas, Mom," he said again.
She blinked. "Thank you, Daniel," she said, taking them gingerly.
"Sorry the scarf isn't wrapped," he said apologetically. He should've thought. "It was an impulse. I saw it and thought of you."
"Yes," she said, carefully examining it and leaving it to the side as she unwrapped the boxed set of her favourite perfume and the delicate little glass perfume bottle in the shape of a flower he'd got to go with it.
"Thank you, Daniel," she said again, studying the perfume bottle intently, a tiny smile on her face.
Danny relaxed slightly. He guessed she liked it.
"Let me just get your presents," Mom added, turning and reaching into her suitcase and pulling out two neatly wrapped presents and an envelope.
He opened the envelope first and smiled at the card and politely thanked Mom for the forty dollars, before opening the first present and lightly grinning to see the personal grooming kit. Hair gel, wax, couple of combs...oh, that would come in handy. Not the brands he normally got, but there was nothing wrong with experimentation, and he thanked Mom warmly.
Then he opened his other present and stared down at the book's glossy cover. 'Coping with grief'.
"Thank you, Mom," he said, and he tried to inject some enthusiasm into his voice, he really did, and it felt like some awful weight had settled in his chest, and the glossy picture of the tombstone on the cover was taunting him.
"Harold recommended it," Mom told him. ""His secretary's daughter found it very helpful, apparently."
Yeah. He was sure.
"Thanks," he said again. Felt like with one simple well-meaning gesture, Mom had managed to crush every scrap of peace and comfort that he'd managed to claw back over the last month.
He smiled up at her brightly . "Shall we go to breakfast?"
Christmas crawled by. He struggled to find a single thing to say to Mom, and he could easily see how bored she was. Made him feel guilty and ashamed. In spite of how much it hurt, she did have a point; there were so many other places she could go, so many other people she could be spending Christmas with if it wasn't for him.
(Maybe she wasn't his first choice of who he'd want to spend Christmas with either.)
He wanted to be grateful though, and he hated the idea that he was boring her. Kind of hurt his pride, apart from anything else, and he tried to encourage her to talk, because she was always more animated when they were talking about her. But she rejected every attempt he made.
She was still angry with him for yesterday, he knew that. But he'd apologised, hadn't he? Did she want him to crawl?
It didn't get any better over dinner, and Danny amused himself by imagining Rusty's reaction to the variety and richness of the food on offer. It was a comforting sort of thought. Made him feel less lonely.
The day dragged on longer. By the time it started to get dark, Danny had give up on trying to get Mom to talk to him. Instead he was living inside his head, imagining what it would be like if Rusty was here. They'd order room service and stay up late watching television, and he would show Rusty the cake shops and the ice cream parlour he'd noticed yesterday. Eating cake with Rusty and talking about how best to hit the pawnshop, and he imagined telling Rusty about today, about Mom, and he could picture the fury in Rusty's eyes, the outrage on his behalf, and somehow it was much easier to admit that Rusty would have a problem with how Mom was treating him than to even consider whether it might actually be...well. Never mind.
In his head, the conversation played and he was exhausted by the time Mom announced she had a headache and dismissed him.
He lay in bed and remembered. This was an awful Christmas. Last year had been bad too. He'd been lonely and hurting and Uncle Harold had been kind to him only when he remembered Danny existed. The year before though...The year before had been as close to a proper family Christmas as they ever got. Mom and Dad had been angry, picking at each other, but it hadn't been too bad. They'd been together and Dad had smiled at him, had clapped him on the shoulder affectionately when he unwrapped the monogrammed briefcase Danny had got him, and he'd laughed at Danny's jokes over dinner, and he'd been here and he'd been alive and he'd...and he'd
Danny curled up as tight as possible and told himself it didn't matter if he cried as long as no one saw.
That had been a good Christmas. And it was gone and it was never coming back. Dad was never coming back.
He wished Rusty was here. Everything was always better if Rusty was here. And he hoped that Rusty was safe. Tried not to imagine the worst that could be happening. Tried not to consider the fact that with him here, Rusty had nowhere to run to. Tried not to think about punches and kicks and bruises and blood.
God, let Rusty be fine.
He closed his eyes. "Happy Christmas, Rus," he whispered into the darkness.
It was impossible to know what time it was when he woke up, chilled and drowsy but definitely less cold than he had been the past few days. Seemed he'd been right about the kitchen. Even better, he had no reason to think about getting up, he simply lay peacefully dozing for a few hours before he woke up enough to light the candles, drink some cola, eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and continue reading the Outsiders.
Had to admit, for a book he had to read for school, he was enjoying it. Nothing gold can stay, huh? Johnny might say that was about Ponyboy but far as Rusty was concerned, it was all about Danny. Nothing clearer. The very best life had to offer would always be taken away.
He finished the book a few hours later maybe, and spent the rest of the day lounging around, concentrating on keeping warm, listening to his French tape and working his way through the candy he'd bought. Not a bad way to spend Christmas, really. Though fuck, he couldn't wait for it to be over. Honestly, any other time of year was better in his opinion. Oh, he got the appeal, got what he was supposed to be taking away from the season (family and a Christmas tree and presents and love and magic) but what he had was nothing to do, no shops open and no Danny. And it was cold besides. Surely the summer was much better. Yeah. Days when he and Danny could spend whole days together, in the sun and the warm, and it felt like no one and nothing could stop them.
Still, this really wasn't too bad. He had food. Dad wasn't here...yes, he was cold (and lonely) but he'd had worse Christmases. Last year had been worse, even, but that hadn't been so much for Dad, who'd just smacked him in the face and sent him to his room, but for how worried he'd been about Danny. The year before though... Dad had been there then. And Rusty had been stupid enough to pick up a cold from somewhere, and he'd been coughing constantly and that had really irritated Dad. He'd been told what would happen if he didn't stop coughing, and he'd tried, he really had. He'd held his breath till he felt lightheaded and he'd snuck through to the kitchen and tried sipping at a cup of water, but it hadn't made any difference. He'd started coughing again, and it had felt like his throat was on fire and Dad had followed him through to the kitchen, forced him up against the counter and made him drink eight cups of water in a row. "This should stop your noise you fucking bastard," he'd growled, and when he'd finally let go, Rusty had swayed dizzily and thrown up on his shoes.
Later, after Dad had left, he'd managed to drag himself through to the bathroom, and he'd more or less stayed there for the rest of Christmas. He could still remember the sound of joy and fun coming through the wall from next door. He'd lain there, in his own blood, listening to the sounds of the perfect family Christmas. People laughing. People singing. People happy.
Rusty curled up as tight as possible and told himself that he wasn't going to cry. That had been a bad Christmas. Compared to that, this was nothing. Just another day. Of course, that one had just been another day too...
He wished Danny was here. Everything was always better when Danny was here. The good stuff was a thousand times brighter and the bad stuff never hurt so bad. And he hoped Danny was happy. Hoped Danny was having a good time right now, was having some of that fun and laughter and joy. And he tried so hard not to think of the alternative. Tried not to think of silence and grief and loneliness.
Let Danny be fine.
He blew out the candles and closed his eyes. "Happy Christmas, Danny," he whispered into the darkness.