A/N: Been a very long time for this story, hasn't it? But for chapter 50 I wanted to try and make it a major moment in their lives. Which this is. Hope you like it. :)
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. 'Growing Together' (Chapter 44) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine
4. 'Trick and Treat' (Chapter 34) Rusty is eight, Danny is ten.
5. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.
6. 'Fishing Trip' (Chapter 47) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven
7. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve
8. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
9. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
10. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
11. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.
12. 'Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play' (Chapter 24) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen
13. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen
14. 'When we were young' Part 1, 2, 3 and 4 (Chapter 25-28) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen
15 'Gnome and Garden' (Chapter 49) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fourteen
16. 'And we won't get it back when we die' (Chapter 29) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fourteen
17. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen
18. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen
19. 'Unseasonal' (Chapter 36 37, 38, 39 40, 41, 42 & 43) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen
20. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen
21. 'Different Roads' Part 1-3 (Chapter 31-33) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen
22. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen
23. 'Stocking, Glitter, Snow' (Chapter 46) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen
24. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen
25. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of'Six months of roses'
26. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'
27. 'Turning Point' (Chapter 50) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls withing time of 'Six Months of Roses'
28. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen
29. 'All Fun and Games' (Chapter 45) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen
30. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen
31. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen
32. 'Crooked Game' (Chapter 48) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen
33. '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
'Date Night' - just over a year after they leave town, Rusty is 16, Danny is 18
'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'
'Stockings, Glitter, Snow' - 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.
Waiting was a necessary evil. It was just starting to get dark, and he and Rusty were stood motionless in the shadow of a doorway, a little way down the alley from the back of the dress shop. They'd covered their faces with scarves and hoods, and Danny could feel the tension and anticipation coiled around his stomach.
It had been almost an hour now. Sure, they didn't know exactly when the delivery was, but it still felt like they'd been waiting too long.
Aware of Rusty next to him, he murmured "I suppose if someone opens the door behind right now we're screwed."
"It's nailed shut," Rusty whispered back, and Danny didn't have to actually look at him to get the full weight of the expression of you-think-I-didn't-check?
He grinned in spite of himself. "Suppose we're fine unless they have a tool for removing nails then," he said.
"Claw hammer?" Rusty suggested mildly.
"That sounds like..." He trailed off as the delivery van turned into the alley. Okay. This was it. Dark clothes against the dark wall...they should be more or less invisible, but he still held his breath until the driver had pulled up right outside the back entrance to the dress shop and got out, leaving his engine idling.
The plan was simple enough. Patricia and some of her friends volunteered for some formal dress exchange program, and every year before homecoming and prom they bought up a load of second hand or out-of-season dresses from the local shops, swapped them with other schools and sold them on the cheap to girls who couldn't afford them new. So far so good, only this year, Patricia had paid the shop a deposit months back, only to turn up and be told that the dresses had been sold to someone else, and no, she couldn't get her deposit back, and no, there was nothing she could do about it.
Pat had been upset. Danny was furious, and he planned to do something about it.
All they had to do was steal the dresses, but make it look like they hadn't been stolen so no one would ever think about connecting it with Patricia. Simplicity itself. Or at least it should have been.
The engine being left on was a bonus they hadn't thought to look for, and with the briefest of delighted glances at Rusty, Danny rushed out of hiding and towards the driver's door, Rusty heading quickly for the other side.
It was just as he'd got the door open and was half stepping into the van that he heard the door of the dress shop open again, followed by a startled, angry shout - "Hey! You! What are you doing?" - and the sound of running footsteps.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. He threw himself into the driver's seat, only waiting long enough to be sure that Rusty was inside before taking off the handbrake and slamming his foot down. They shot out of the alley as Rusty calmly leaned over him to shut the van door.
"Speed limit," Rusty said tightly, once they'd got a block and a half away.
He nodded; the police weren't looking for them yet so it would be pretty stupid if they got pulled over for speeding. "We have to get off the main road," he said though, turning left sharply down a residential street.
"Turn left at Rosemount and cut up Park Street and we should be at the storage place," Rusty said confidently.
"Right," he said tersely, then "You think they saw us?"
"Not our faces," Rusty told him.
He nodded, comforted. That should be alright then. After all, the van was always gonna be reported stolen, but they knew from experience that a stolen car didn't generally trigger a massive manhunt. They'd be quick and careful and then it would be over, and he couldn't wait to see Patricia's face when she saw the dresses. He grinned. "I don't know about you, but I'm thinking pizza afterwards."
"Mexican," Rusty countered. "That place down near the river that does the green guacamole."
Danny blinked. "Where the hell have you been eating that the guacamole isn't green?" he demanded.
"'s a greener green," Rusty shrugged, like that explained everything, which, really, it kinda did.
They'd rented a storage locker at a place on the edge of town – under a false name, of course. Easy enough to drive the van right up to it, pop the padlock and open the van up.
Huh. He didn't think he'd ever seen so much silk and sequins in one place before.
"Wow," Rusty said, stepping up and into the van and picking up something blue and shimmery like it was the holy grail.
Danny grinned. "Oh, that's definitely your colour," he approved.
Rusty shrugged. "Just wondering if they make shirts out of this stuff," he said innocently. "Hey, I might want to go to homecoming too."
"You'll be the belle of the ball," Danny assured him, straight-faced. "Come on, let's get these inside."
There was about thirty dresses, plus a whole bunch of accessories. Purses, shoes, stockings...he had no idea why girls needed all this stuff, but Patricia would probably appreciate the extras. They piled it all in a corner, for the moment - they could sort it all out later. It was more important to get it all stashed away safely. That done, they set about stripping the van of everything that looked like it might be valuable – the radio, the driver's jacket, a pair of sunglasses that had been in the glove compartment, a tool box from under the passenger's seat...might as well get them now so they could sell them later.
Working quickly and efficiently, they were done even faster than they'd been expecting, and they jumped back into the van to drive round to the piece of waste ground they'd prepared earlier. They'd figured that when the theft was reported to the police the owner might just remember cheating Patricia and think that maybe she'd had something to do with it. So that meant it had to look like an opportunistic theft, like the dresses had been the last thing they were looking for.
They stopped the van and he immediately set about pouring lighter fluid over the large pile of dresses and clothes they'd picked up from thriftshops and left out here, while Rusty took a spray can and daubed the van liberally with grafitti, making sure the initials SJ were prominent. Personally, Danny thought anyone dumb enough to tag stolen property with their own initials deserved to get caught, but he knew it happened so it was one more thing to throw the cops off their scent.
Once that was done, he took a large piece of jagged metal and thrust it deep into the tyres on the lefthand side, leaving it sticking in the rear one. They burst, deflating almost immediately.
There. Now this told a story. Thieves saw a chance and stole a van, driving it somewhere out of the way to see what they'd got, but unfortunately punctured the tyres in the process. So they stripped it of everything valuable and burned the useless dresses. Seemed obvious enough. They could only hope the cops agreed.
"Ready?" Rusty asked, holding up a book of matches.
He nodded. "Go for it."
Rusty lit a match and tossed it onto the pile which went up in flames satisfyingly quickly.
"Smokey the Bear would not approve," he said lightly.
"Pretty sure there's no forest for miles round here," Rusty said with a shrug.
They walked away quickly, heading towards the main road, planning on being well away before anyone came to investigate.
That was when the police cruiser rolled around the corner.
They were skewered by the headlights, caught standing in front of the bonfire and the stolen van, and the blue lights and sirens instantaneously flashed on, and the cruiser sped up, heading straight for them before screeching to a halt.
He exchanged a quick glance with Rusty. They were right out in the open here. Sure, they could run, but with a look, Rusty pointed out that there was nowhere to run to, and, grimacing, Danny acknowledged that running would just make them look guilty. No, they were agreed. The only thing to do here was stand their ground and try and bluff it out.
As the two cops advanced towards them, hands hovering somewhere around their holsters, this seemed like the worst idea imaginable.
"Put your hands on your head and get down on the ground!"
How had he let this happen?
Rusty's heart hadn't stopped pounding since they were read their rights and shoved into the back of the police cruiser. This wasn't supposed to happen. This was never supposed to happen. The sight of Danny in handcuffs was enough to make him want to throw up. Hell, the feeling of his own hands cuffed behind his back was enough to send nausea and panic racing through him, especially as the cops kept grabbing his arm and dragging him around. Every time they loomed over him, he had to fight down the instinct to flinch away, and he could see the agony in Danny's eyes at the sight. This wasn't what Danny wanted for him either.
In a dream, he stood and let them take his prints and his photograph; they removed his jacket and watch and wallet, and he gave them his name – his real name – and let them write it down. It was awful. There was a low buzzing in his head and he dug his nails deep into his palms, clamping down on the panic.
But at least Danny was still there, still in sight and even though there were two cops right behind him, large and angry and rough, and even though the metal at his wrists felt like it was burning him, his voice was still steady as he called across the room. "So. Guess we're not gonna be able to get that pizza now. The place will be shut by the time we get out of here."
Danny wasn't fooled. Danny knew everything that made him afraid, and Danny's eyes were fixed on his, offering comfort and reassurance, and promising that somehow, this was all going to work out fine. They'd make it work. But what Danny said was "Thought you wanted Mexican anyway."
"I was - " he started to say, but the cop behind him cuffed him lightly around the head.
"Quiet, kid," he growled in a low voice.
That...wasn't the sort of thing Rusty could listen to. He tilted his head back and grinned up at the cop annoyingly. "What, are we annoying you? You don't like Mexican food? Yeah, you look more like a meat and potatoes sort of guy." He eyed him for a second. "Actually, think you should maybe cut down a bit. Your uniform is looking a bit stretched round the middle there." He reached back with his hands to poke the guy in the stomach, and it wasn't at all surprising when the cop shoved him forwards until his head cracked against the desk.
"Shut the fuck up," he snarled.
"Leave him alone!" Danny's voice rang out full of authority and outrage, and no one was paying attention.
But the cop sitting behind the desk looked up and frowned. "Hey, Harrison go easy," he warned. "You know what the captain said."
"Yeah, yeah." He was dragged upright again, and even through the dizziness the taunts were hovering somewhere around his lips. Then he caught sight of Danny's eyes from across the room. Danny was begging him. Telling him to keep his mouth shut, that he'd made his point, that they couldn't possibly win like this, and he could see the wildness creeping in, and the threat that if he said one thing more, Danny was going to step in and start trying to take the heat off him. Yeah...he didn't want that. He swallowed hard and ducked his head, silently apologising to Danny, and Danny gave the sort of smile that no one else could see. As long as they were together, they could deal with anything.
"Okay, take Ocean to interrogation room 1, and Ryan to room 2," the cop behind the desk said with a sigh.
He tensed, and for a second he could see the dismay on Danny's face. But this was...this was fine. This was inevitable, right? Of course they weren't going to be questioned together, but this was fine and all they had to do was keep calm and they'd get through this. He could see the same thought reflected on Danny's face, the same desperate optimism, and then insistent hands were pulling him backwards and he was escorted through a door into a blank, whitewashed room and pushed firmly down onto an uncomfortable metal chair.
His hands were still cuffed behind his back. The door was closed. A mirror took up most of the far wall, and he tried not to look at it, certain that someone was behind it, watching him. There was no window, and the fluorescent light flickered uncomfortably. One of the cops who followed him into the room sat at the table opposite him, but the other one, Harrison, stood against the wall, just behind his shoulder, just out of his line of vision and immediately that set his teeth on edge, so all his instincts were screaming at him to run.
Danny would be in a room just like this one right now. Handcuffed and surrounded, and not safe, and Rusty couldn't stand it.
"Okay," the cop behind the desk said, smiling. "I'm Officer Argyle, and this is Officer Harrison. And it's Robert, right? We're going to talk about what happened this evening. You want those handcuffs off, Robert?"
Okay. So he was playing the good cop, and that meant Harrison was playing the bad cop...except Rusty wasn't so sure he was playing. And he did want the handcuffs off. But he wanted to owe them even less, so he just shrugged. "Whatever," he said easily.
Even so, Argyle nodded to Harrison over his shoulder, and Rusty fought to stay still as Harrison bent over him, his breath hot and harsh against his neck, his hands fumbling with the cuffs and touching him, until he had to bite into the side of his mouth to keep his breathing regular and unconcerned.
"So," Argyle went on presently. "You were picked up walking away from a stolen van and a bunch of stolen goods that had been set alight. I'm afraid that doesn't look very good for you."
"You're looking at deliberate arson and grand theft auto," Harrison snarled in his ear. "That's at least five years, asshole. You think you can do that sort of time?"
He was fourteen. They weren't gonna give him five years. But Danny was sixteen – almost seventeen - and maybe...maybe...
Argyle leaned forwards over the desk and gave him a bright, sympathetic smile. "Why don't you tell us everything that happened tonight? From the beginning."
Alright. This he could do. They always had a story figured out for if they got caught, even if normally they were worried about being caught by teachers or parents. The trick was always to be sure they were telling the same story and that came as naturally to them as breathing.
He took a deep breath, let his eyes open wide and innocent, and started to talk.
Danny kept his chin up, as he strolled unconcernedly down the steps to the holding cell, pretending that he couldn't see the two cops escorting him, right up until they pushed him into the narrow white washed holding cell.
"Thanks," he said ironically as they turned to leave. "See you later."
There was no sign of Rusty yet. There was a scrawny man with matted hair snoring on a bench in the corner. A trail of drool was running down the side of his face towards the floor, and the smell of sweat and alcohol in the room was clearly coming from him. Someone to avoid, Danny figured, so he took a seat by the door, as far away as possible, and tried not to make a sound as he stared out through the iron bars across the door, waiting anxiously for Rusty.
So, really that had gone about as well as he could hope for. The cops had started off confident and accusing, but the more he'd denied everything the more they'd started to hesitate. He'd stuck to the story, telling them that he and Rusty had just been passing on the way back from the park when they'd seen the bonfire and gone to investigate. He'd more or less admitted they'd gone looking for some place out of the way to smoke, and that, along with his sincerity, was enough to shake them. He'd caught them exchanging uncertain glances more than once, when they thought he wasn't looking.
God, he hoped Rusty was holding up as well. He swallowed hard. Rusty hated being locked up. He should have found some way to make sure he was the only one arrested. Maybe he could have got Rusty to run before the cops got to them.
(Maybe if everything went to hell he could make some sort of deal. He'd plead guilty in a heartbeat if they'd let Rusty go free. Trouble was, he knew Rusty would do the same.)
The door opened at the top of the stairs and he tensed, waiting expectantly, and it was such a relief when Rusty walked into view, even with that bastard cop who'd hit him before holding him by the shoulder. Instinctively, he was on his feet, looking Rusty over and there was no sign of any injury at least, but he could see the strain round Rusty's eyes, even as Rusty was looking him over. He smiled reassuringly, promising that he was okay, as Rusty was pushed forwards into the cell.
"Fancy meeting you here," Rusty said cheerfully, and Danny winced at the wild edge to his voice. Didn't help when Rusty immediately looked over to the sleeping guy warily, far more obvious in checking out the threat than he normally would be.
The door was closed behind them, and the cops walked off again. In the distance he could hear them talking. "Think they did it?"
"Nah, they're just kids. We're wasting our time."
"Yeah, well, wait for the identity parade."
Identity parade? But no one had seen them properly, right? He kept his mouth shut, but he was starting to worry.
He curled his hand lightly round Rusty's wrist and pulled him down so they were sitting on the bench together. He could feel Rusty trembling lightly beneath his hand, could feel his pulse racing. "You - "
" - yeah," Rusty lied, pulling his arm away with a warning look.
Right. They couldn't be sure no one was listening, and that meant that he couldn't offer the comfort he so desperately needed to.
He took a deep breath, wondering what the hell was going to happen next? Up until now he'd been able to focus on the moment, just saying the right thing to keep them out of trouble, and then he'd been worried about Rusty, but now...they'd been arrested. The cops had been talking about them doing five years, and even though he figured that was probably exaggerated some to scare him the thought of spending that long locked up – the thought of Rusty spending that long locked up – it was unbearable. He wondered if they'd let them stay together in juvie. Imagining Rusty locked up away from him, he shivered. Rusty wasn't meant to be in prison.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly.
Rusty tilted his head enquiringly.
"It was my idea," he expanded, cautiously adding "Going to the park, I mean."
"Our idea," Rusty corrected immediately. "And I could have said no."
That just made the guilt all the more real. Because how often did Rusty ever actually say no to him?
"About as often as you say no to me," Rusty said firmly.
Sure. But Rusty had never asked him to do something that wound up getting him locked up in prison, maybe for years. Last thing Rusty asked Danny had led to Danny having to drink a peanut butter flavoured milkshake. Last thing Danny had asked Rusty had led to a cop smashing Rusty's head off a desk. There was one hell of a difference here.
Rusty looked at him. "You're thinking something stupid again, aren't you?" he asked.
Danny sighed. There was already a lump forming on Rusty's forehead. The bruising wasn't going to be anything spectacular, but it was there and it shouldn't be. He'd be willing to bet the cops would swear blind it had already been there before they were arrested. God. And he wondered why no one in authority – no adults – ever seemed to care when he pointed out Rust' was being beaten. He wanted to reach out smoothed Rusty's hair away from the bruises the way he normally would. He wanted to fetch some ice and take care of Rusty properly. But they were in this cell and they weren't getting out.
Damn. He winced as the thought was inadvertently shared. A shadow flickered across Rusty's face and he sat back, twisting his fingers together. That wasn't something Rusty had needed reminded of. "Rus' - "
" -'m okay," Rusty answered softly. "Just...talk for a while, okay?"
He raised an eyebrow, remembering the time they'd been shut in the school office overnight, swapping stories. Hardly the first time he'd talked to keep the darkness at bay. Whatever it took. "Okay," he said leaning back against the wall. "Once upon a time..."
Rusty gave him the finger. But he listened anyway.
It was maybe an hour or so later when the cops came down the stairs again. Must be getting close to midnight now; he'd been assuming they were going to be left here for the rest of the night.
"On your feet!" Harrison barked, and he looked at Rusty quickly, a promise that everything was going to be alright, somehow, and Rusty grinned back lazily despite the tension in his eyes, and they both got slowly to their feet like they didn't have a care in the world.
Didn't seem to impress the cops any. And the guy in the corner hadn't opened his eyes once. If it wasn't for his snoring, Danny might have thought he was dead.
"Up the stairs and into the door on the left," Harrison went on as the cell block door slowly opened.
He was aware of Rusty's soft exhalation of relief, and he stepped forwards in front of him, shielding him even as he smiled at the cops innocently. "Which one's left again?" he asked.
He didn't get an answer. They let the cops escort them upstairs and into yet another white washed room. They had to act like they weren't scared, because if they were scared they'd lose.
Rusty nodded in agreement, his eyes bright and his voice carefully measured. "They need a new interior designer round here."
"They say white is very slimming," Danny said thoughtfully.
"Uh huh." Rusty looked at him. "You worried this police department makes you look fat?"
Fortunately, judging by the increasingly constipated look of irritation on Harrison's face, at that point the door opened and two more cops brought ten other men inside. They were all lined up against the wall. Huh. None of them looked particularly like either him or Rusty. They were all adults for a start, and therefore noticeably taller, certainly than Rusty.
He and Rusty were both shoved into place in line, a few spots apart, and he struggled not to resist, not to grab Rusty and refuse to let go.
"Alright," one of the cops said, looking them up and down. "Don't move unless instructed. Don't step over the yellow line in any circumstances. Don't open your mouth."
Now here were some instructions they would be following. They really didn't want to risk drawing any attention. Still, this whole thing had him worried. They had been seen, but like Rus' said, not their faces. Could this really be about picking them out by their builds or whatever?
Apparently so, because he recognised the guy brought in as the delivery driver. Okay. So how would someone brought in off the street to take part in an identity parade be feeling right now? Bored, but not relaxed. And not at all nervous. He subtly adjusted his stance as the guy moved down the line, peering at each of them in turn, muttering to himself.
"Too fat...too skinny...I'm sure he had dark hair...they were both a lot taller than that!"
The last was in front of Rusty and Danny kept the smile of relief hidden carefully inside as the driver moved further down the line until eventually he stopped. Right in front of Danny. He didn't react in any way, kept his gaze incurious, and focused somewhere past the man's shoulder.
"Maybe..." the driver said doubtfully. "Can I see him from side on?"
"All of you turn to your right," Harrison barked, and they all shuffled round obediently.
There was an agonising pause, and Danny breathed evenly even as his mind was racing. If only he was positively IDed, what would that mean? Would they still go after Rusty anyway cos he'd been found with Danny? What if he confessed but told them Rusty hadn't been a part of it and he'd only met up with him afterwards for an alibi or something? All the cop movies he'd ever seen had the criminals selling each other out as soon as they knew they were caught, so maybe that meant that cops would be inclined to believe someone who was doing the opposite. But could he trust Rusty not to confess himself in some misguided spirit of solidarity...? Probably not. This could be the end of everything.
"No," the driver said decidedly, after what felt like an eternity. "No, definitely not. I said two men, not half-grown boys."
"You're sure?" Harrison pressed. "Take another look. A longer one."
Out of the corner of his eye, Danny saw the driver give Harrison a suspicious look, like he was concerned the cops were trying to trick him somehow. "I'm sure," he said definitely.
And now they'd both been positively unIDed. Which wasn't an outcome he'd looked for. He kept his expression neutral as the driver was taken away, then let it slide into one of unsurprised relief as the cops led them back to the holding cell.
"So that's it, right?" he asked, twisting his head round to look at them, his face earnest and pleading. "You can see all this was just a misunderstanding."
"Not yet," Harrison growled. "You stay here for now."
He caught Rusty's eye as the cell door closed behind them. Not long now he promised silently. After all, the cops had no eyewitness and only circumstantial evidence. Nothing to actually tie them to the scene of the crime. How could they hope to get a conviction?
They were left alone for another hour or so, Rusty thought. It was difficult to keep track of time when you were locked up. Every second seemed to last a year, every minute an eternity. He agreed with Danny though, the cops didn't have any real evidence against them. Where they disagreed was how much weight that would carry. Danny tended to think punishment should follow on from being caught doing something wrong; Rusty tended to think it was a hell of a lot more arbitrary than that. They had been caught out where they shouldn't have been, so even without the knowledge that they had actually done it, they had to be a convenient fit for an easy arrest. So when the cops came back down the stairs, Danny was guardedly optimistic and he was wary.
"Alright," Arglye said as he hauled the cell door open. "You're free to go. Your parents are waiting upstairs to collect you."
Wait...
"You called our parents?" Danny asked, unable to hide the horror in his voice, maybe not even trying.
Nonononononono! They'd gone to Dad – the cops had gone to Dad and told him that Rusty was in trouble, that he'd been arrested even. He could imagine how Dad would have heard that, could imagine the look on his face...
And they'd gone to Danny's Mom as well, and he could imagine that anger too. Having the police at her door...she wasn't going to stand for that. She wasn't going to forgive.
"Oh, that wiped the smile off your faces," Harrison chortled. "You don't like that, do you? Scared you're going to get in trouble with Mommy and Daddy?"
They only had one parent each, and he very much doubted that Danny's mother had ever been 'Mommy' any more than he'd ever have dreamed of calling Dad 'Daddy'. But they were scared. Beyond all doubt they were scared.
Staying as close to Danny as he thought would be considered acceptable, they followed the cops upstairs. They should have seen this coming. He should have seen this coming. Too busy being a sissy about being locked up and worrying about staying out of the pen, and he'd missed that the real danger was just the same as it always was. What was Danny's Mom going to do? Dad was easy enough, Rusty knew what he was going to do, and there was nothing he could do about that so he could forget it for the moment. But Danny's Mom...this would be everything she hated. At the very least, she was gonna stop Danny seeing him again, and it could be so much worse. With a shiver, he thought of the boarding school fiasco not that long ago. Maybe she would send Danny away. Maybe she'd send Danny away to military school or something, and Danny wouldn't be able to deal with that. Something like that would kill Danny in every way that mattered. Fuck, he had to figure out what to do.
Danny's Mom was waiting for them in the lobby. So was Dad, but determinedly – going against all his most basic instincts - he managed to half-turn his back on the impatient snort of disgust and the heavy unsteady footsteps, instead focussing on Danny's Mom, waiting until she came close enough to hear before turning to Danny. "I'm sorry I got you in trouble, Danny," he said steadily, and with his eyes he was begging Danny to accept the story. It would be so much simpler if she would just blame him for everything. She had done before, after all, this could work, please let this work.
But when he looked away from the angry hurt in Danny's eyes her face was blank and it was like he'd never spoken.
"Come along, Daniel," she said her voice flat. And they had been expecting the anger and the coldness and he couldn't explain why this was so different, but he really never had seen her look at Danny with quite that expression before. Her eyes were dead. There was a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"Mom, it wasn't - " Danny started, obviously eager to say that this hadn't all been Rusty's fault.
" - I do not wish to hear it, Daniel," she interrupted awfully, and Rusty bit his lip. There was something...off...about the way she was acting. This wasn't right.
A hand fell on his shoulder, dragging him backwards, and he found himself looking up at Dad. The hot, foul breath that hit his face stank of cheap vodka. "What the fuck have you been doing? Little bastard."
Oh, hell. He couldn't ignore the fear any longer, couldn't pretend that Danny was all he needed to worry about, couldn't pretend his stomach wasn't tied up in knots. And the cops were right there, so he couldn't give any kind of smart answer, and if he did he couldn't trust Dad to control himself enough not to just smack him, cops be damned.
More or less involuntarily, his eyes dropped to the floor. "Sorry, sir," he mumbled.
This wasn't a time when apologies were gonna make a difference. He knew that even as Dad dug his fingers into his shoulder. "You think it's okay to drag me out of bed at this hour? Fucking disrespectful faggot."
He flinched. Couldn't help it.
"Now then," Argyle said with a placating smile. "Thank you for coming out tonight, Mrs Ocean, Mr Ryan. I trust that you'll be able to keep your sons from wandering around at night from now on."
"Mmm." Mrs Ocean's lips were thin and her eyes...he shivered, and he could see the unease on Danny's face.
"Don't worry," Dad said, almost jovially. "I'll make sure the little faggot learns his lesson." He punctuated his words by shaking Rusty back and forth, his hand creeping up frighteningly close to Rusty's throat. Rusty swallowed hard, his fingernails digging deep into his palms. He felt sick.
"He's going to hurt him," Danny burst out furiously, his eyes fixed on the cops. "He's going to take him home and beat him. Are you going to do something about that?"
None of them reacted. There was a brief moment of almost-embarrassed silence.
"We are going home now, Daniel," Danny's Mom said frostily. "Come on." She walked off, obviously expecting Danny to follow.
"Nothing wrong with a little discipline, right?" Dad leered at the cops, wary and ingratiating and Dad hated cops, he knew and it would be nice to see Dad nervous for once, if it wasn't for the fact that he was nervous too.
"Did you drive here tonight, Mr Ryan?" Argyle asked with a slight frown.
"Took the bus," Dad grunted.
Danny's eyes were fixed on Rusty's face, and Rusty silently told him that making a fuss now won them nothing, that he had to be careful, that everything would be fine please.
"Rus'..." Danny said with quiet urgency.
He swallowed hard. "Yeah," he said. He nodded towards the door. "Go." And good luck.
Dad didn't let go of him as they walked outside, and Danny was standing outside his Mom's car, his eyes worried and afraid, and Rusty was afraid for him...
"Get a move on," Dad said rudely, pulling at his arm, hard enough that he stumbled. "Stop staring at your little boyfriend."
He cringed, hoping that Danny's Mom hadn't heard that. (Hoping that Danny hadn't heard.) Dad hadn't let go of his arm and he was helpless to do anything but hurry after him if he wanted to keep his footing, and he craned his neck, trying to keep Danny in sight, what Dad said be damned, but they turned a corner and Danny was gone. His footsteps echoed loudly, in his head at least. It was the middle of the night and there was no one else in sight. Automatically he took a step down the street towards the bus stop, but Dad gave a disgusted sigh and hauled him across the street into an alley and towards a battered brown Plymouth. Oh. He hadn't even known Dad had got a new car. He swallowed hard; not something he was looking forward to.
Dad let go of his arm to fumble with the car keys and he seized his chance and breathlessly edged a few steps further, out of reach and out of sight. If he could just get away...get to Danny...he ran. Fast as he could, heading for the mouth of the alley, and he heard Dad's angry roar, but the blood was pounding so hard through his ears that he didn't hear the footsteps until the blaze of pain in his arm and the crunch in his shoulder as he was caught and wrenched backwards falling to the ground, his arm still in Dad's firm grip, twisted up and behind his back.
For a moment the pain was all he could think of, expected and overwhelming all at the same time. But Dad was shouting, and he had to get up, so he gritted his teeth and tried to shove it all to the back of his mind. Foggily, he managed to struggle first to his knees and then to his feet, and Dad let go of his arm for a second – thankyouthankyouthankyou – and grabbed his throat, shoving him against the wall of the alley. Dad was spitting in his face...shouting...and Rusty tried to listen.
"...fucking coward. When I was your age I'd never have thought of running away from my old man's punishments, because of a little thing called respect, and because I had the brains to know that it would make things worse."
He risked looking down at his shoulder, flexing his fingers experimentally. Dislocated, not broken, he thought with a sort of fuzzy detachment. This was all just physical. He just had to get through this so he could go find Danny, because Danny needed him, he was sure of it.
Dad was still talking. "What have you got to say for yourself?" He shook Rusty by the throat lightly and he struggled to breathe, gasping. "Apologize, you little fag."
He pressed his lips together firmly. He wasn't gonna apologise. Not to Dad. Not even if he was sorry that the cops had gone to Dad's door.
A siren suddenly cut through the night and Dad's hand clenched reflexively, and Rusty let out a soft moan of pain. There would be bruises there tomorrow. He had nothing left to resist as Dad dragged him back to the car.
The drive back home was unpleasant but mercifully swift. The inside of the car smelled of smoke and booze and something sickly sweet. The floor beneath his feet was sticky and covered with junk. Dad kept his foot down and drank regularly from one of the bottles stashed beneath the seat. Rusty's shoulder throbbed. He kept his mouth shut.
It was strange, but when they got upstairs, Dad seemed almost in a good mood. He laughed, anyway, even as he shoved Rusty to the floor. "So, they arrested you, huh? Said you were a thief."
Rusty tried to get up, but Dad knocked him straight back down again and the pain blossomed across his face. He scrambled backwards, trying to get out of arm's reach. "It was a misunderstanding," he reminded Dad quickly. "They let us...me...go."
Of course Dad didn't listened. He stomped forwards, boot swinging, and Rusty just managed to duck so the kick only caught him a glancing blow. "All your high and mighty talk about how...special you are, how much better you are than me and you're just a piece of shit thief?" He snorted. "Shoulda known. You were always no good."
He looked round desperately for some kind of escape, but there was nothing. There was nowhere to run here, nowhere Dad wouldn't catch him and drag him out the way he had a hundred times before. His heart was hammering in his chest. Dad was right on top of him, massive and angry and unstoppable, grabbing his collar and hauling him roughly to his feet and he let out a hiss of pain as his arm protested. "Admit you're just a piece of shit thief and I'll let you go to bed right now," Dad offered, the contemptuous smile splitting his face.
It was a lie, Rusty knew. Not that it mattered. He looked Dad straight in the eye. "Actually, I'm an excellent thief," he said, and his head rocked back as Dad shoved him away with an angry snarl
"Gonna teach you a lesson," Dad said, staring at him heavily. "Try and teach you respect. Teach you not to bring the cops to our door, teach you not to wake decent people up."
His mouth was dry. His mind flashed back to the start of the summer, after that party. Fuck, he hoped it wouldn't be the belt again. With his arm the way it was, he didn't think he'd have a hope of keeping quiet.
It was almost a relief when Dad finally drew his fist back and just started punching. Almost.
When it was all finally over, Dad threw him out the door, battered and bleeding. "I don't want to see your face around here till you've learned to behave," he spat.
Rusty nodded and sank down to the ground as the door slammed shut, his legs trembling too hard to support him for the moment. He was hurt bad. Dad was always so much worse when Rusty actually had done something wrong. Closing his eyes, he took shallow breaths, trying to manage the pain. He had to go to Danny, but first...with a groan, he braced his arm against the wall and quickly – brutally – reset his shoulder.
Fuck. He managed not to scream, mostly by biting hard into his lip, but the pain shot through him like a fiery lance and for a long moment all he could do was sit there with his left hand resting numbly on his shoulder, like he was trying to hold the pain inside He'd always swear the cure was worse than the problem.
Dad had done this for him, he remembered. A long time ago, back soon after he'd first started school. He'd let Rusty sit down on the couch, and he'd given him a leather belt to bite down on so he didn't make a noise, and he'd carefully and efficiently popped Rusty's shoulder back into place. He'd even let him rest for a while after, and he'd sort of snorted approvingly and said at least Rusty wasn't crying. It had been one of the few fatherly things Dad had ever done for him, and it wasn't like he remembered that day fondly, but he did remember it.
Once the pain had subsided enough, he struggled to his feet, his breathing still ragged. Alright. Enough lazing around. He had to go find Danny and hope his Mom hadn't been too bad.
Determinedly, he limped downstairs.
Danny watched as Rusty walked away, his eyes fixed on that bastard's hand wrapped around Rusty's arm, every fibre of his being screaming that this was wrong and he should be able to stop it. (He should really, shouldn't he? After seven years, he should have found some way to properly protect Rusty.)
"Get in the car, Daniel," Mom said tightly. "I won't tell you again."
He hesitated a second, wondering what would happen if she did tell him again, wondering if maybe she'd drive off and leave him here and he could follow Rusty. But even as her eyes narrowed he was conscious of being watched and he glanced casually in the rear view mirror and saw a couple of cops standing on them steps, watching them. Right. No way would she do that in front of an audience. Shout at him, sure, but that wouldn't get him anything. If he just got this over with as quickly as possible then he could go find Rusty. Gritting his teeth, he got in the car.
The drive home was miserable. Mom kept her eyes on the road and didn't say a word to him, but he could see her jaw was tightly clenched. He'd never seen her this angry before, not while being so controlled. In spite of himself, in spite of the fact that he knew beyond all doubt he should only be thinking about Rusty right now, since right now...right now...He bit his lip savagely. In spite of all that, Mom was still making him nervous.
It didn't help when she pulled up in the driveway and they sat in uncomfortable silence with the engine running for a few minutes before she finally turned it off. "Go inside and wait in my study, Daniel," she said, her eyes still trained ahead of her.
Her study? She never let him in her study. That was her space. His sense of unease grew. "Mom - " he started, and he thought he was trying to reassure her, apologise maybe.
" - do not argue, Daniel," she snapped. Her voice was awful. "My study. Now."
Unhappily, he got out of the car and let himself into the house. He risked a glance over his shoulder in the doorway, but she was still just sitting there, staring fixedly ahead.
Okay. Taking a deep breath, he walked straight through to her study. She'd redecorated since he was last in here. The bookcases which lined the walls loomed over him unsettlingly. Her desk was stacked with neat piles of files and folders. There was only one chair in the room, and that was behind the desk. No way was he going to sit there. He remained standing, almost stiffly to attention. This might be a room in his house, but honestly he'd felt more at home in the police station.
There was a clock ticking behind his head interminably. He looked round at it a time or two as time passed. First ten minutes then twenty. It was now almost four o'clock in the morning, and if it wasn't for the anxious adrenaline still coursing through him, he would be exhausted.
Where was Mom? Was she even coming in to see him? Hell, had she fallen asleep? How long could he leave it before he tried to sneak out and find Rusty. (Rusty. He tried not to think of what could – would – be happening right now.)
By the time he heard the door opening he felt like he had been waiting through eternity. Her footsteps were slow. He didn't look round, assuming she was going to sit at her desk the way they did when you were in trouble at school, but instead she stood directly behind him. "At least have the courtesy to face me, Daniel," she said, her voice unnaturally cold.
Stung, he turned quickly. "Sorry," he said in a low voice. "Honestly, Mom, I'm sorry for all of it. The cops getting you out of bed, worrying you - "
She held up a hand for silence. " - I don't wish to hear it," she said. For a long moment she stared at him and he fought to stay still and resist the urge to shuffle uncomfortably. He was sorry. This was one of those times when he had to admit she had every right to be angry. So why wasn't she shouting and screaming like she normally would? "I want you to be absolutely honest with me. The police say it was all a case of mistaken identity. They say it wasn't you. Was it?"
Her eyes skewered him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so keenly that she was looking at him. Lying to her was the only sensible option here, and yet he knew he couldn't. "Yes," he admitted softly.
She nodded a couple of times like he was just confessing everything she already knew, and then she drew back her hand and slapped him hard across the face.
His head jerked back. It wasn't the pain that made him gasp, it was the shock.
Eyes narrowed, she hit him again.
"I suppose," she said in a voice that trembled. "The only thing that really surprises me here is that I'm surprised at all. I tried with you, Daniel, Lord knows I tried. But deep down I always knew that you would never amount to anything good."
This was so much worse than it ever had been before. There was real hatred in her voice. Cold and hard. He shivered to hear it. "Mom, I'm sorry," he said earnestly. "I never meant to - "
" - save your apologies," she interrupted bitterly. "That's all I've ever got from you ever since you started talking. Every time you disappoint me, every time you let me down, it's just a half hearted apology and a promise to do better. I'm sick of it." She jabbed her finger hard against his chest. He was taller than her now but he still felt like she towered over him. "You should really be apologising for ruining my life. I was happy until you came along. If it wasn't for you, I could have made so much more of myself. I would have been vice chairman at least. I could have travelled. But you were always there, the ugly millstone round my neck. You were a mistake! A hideous, awful mistake, and I wish you'd never been born."
There was part of him that wanted to shrink away from the venom in her voice. It didn't matter how often he heard it, she was his Mom and it hurt. But far more than that, he didn't show weakness. Not to her. Not ever. "I know," he said tersely. "You've told me before." Not in those words, maybe, but he knew how she felt about him and he struggled not to feel guilty for being born.
"Don't look like that," she snapped. "You can't tell me I wasn't a good mother."
He was hurting enough now to meet her eyes defiantly and make no bones of his answer. "Sure I can."
For a second he thought she was going to hit him again, and he braced himself, ready for it. But she dropped her hand to her side. "You weren't a good son. You're nothing but an ungrateful brat. I've always kept a roof over your head and food on the table. What more do you want from me?"
Love. Attention. Affection. Someone to talk to. Everything he saw in the movies. He stood straight, his chin raised. "You know, I can't think of a damned thing."
She took his words at face value, her expression triumphant. "Exactly. I tried my best and you never made an effort. Tonight was nothing but the last straw."
Her words had the ring of finality. He stirred uneasily. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that after tonight I wash my hands of you, Daniel. As far as I'm concerned you are no longer my son. I do not intend to speak to you again. Certainly I will take no more responsibility for you."
He stared. "You're giving me the silent treatment?" he asked incredulously.
Lip curled, she ignored him. "I have a legal obligation to support you until you are eighteen, so that is what I intend to do. You may continue to stay in my house and eat my food, but that is as far as our relationship will go. Do not expect me to support you in any other way, and if I receive another phone call from the police as I did tonight I shall not hesitate to tell them that they should lock you up and throw away the key. What is more, I expect you to leave my house the moment you turn eighteen."
Oh. His mouth was dry. She was watching him expectantly and he could tell that she wanted him angry, wanted him to plead and beg and bargain and threaten, but this was too much for any of that. She hated him. It was one thing to know that she'd never wanted him, that maybe she didn't even like him all that much, but her hatred was something else altogether, and try as he might, he couldn't find the words.
"And you can say goodbye to your college fund," she added viciously when he didn't speak. "Between what your father left you, his life insurance money, and the money we've been investing since you were a baby, I had hopes that it would not only stretch to cover your college years but would also leave enough to provide you with a lump sum to put towards a place of your own afterwards." He flinched slightly at the mention of Dad. This was the first time he'd heard that Dad had left him anything. She sniffed contemptuously. "And you say I'm a bad mother. I was always willing to provide for you, Daniel. It's too bad I didn't know from the start that all the money I spent on you was going to be such a waste."
"I never asked for your money," he said truthfully, but inside he was reeling.
She pressed her lips together. "Well, you're going to have every opportunity to see how well you can get by without it," she snapped. "This is what you've always wanted, isn't it? You said you wouldn't choose me. And now I'm telling you you're not going to get that choice. You like your friend so much, let's see how much you like having to live like him." She spun round on her heel and prepared to walk away.
"Wait," he said quickly. "I don't care about the money or anything like that. But let me talk to you at least. How can I fix this if we don't talk?"
With a sneer, she half turned back to him. "There is nothing I want to talk to you about. I have no doubt that you're going to continue to try to get back into my good graces, but I'm not going to listen. You've made your bed, now you have to lie in it."
She walked away. He stared after her, feeling like the world was crumbling beneath his feet.
He left it for a few minutes until he was sure she was safely upstairs, then he quietly walked up to his room. The house was silent. It was a relief to see her bedroom door was shut. He felt numb. How could she just decide to stop caring about him like that?
He had been arrested, he reminded himself. That would be all over the neighbourhood by tomorrow. He'd embarrassed Mom again, and she knew he was really a thief even if no one else did. Really, what would he expect her to do, just forgive him? That wasn't something that anyone would accept, was it? Yes, Patricia knew some, but it wasn't like he went around telling her every detail, and sure as hell no one else knew what they did and there was a reason for that. Still. Maybe he could have explained why they were doing it, that it was all for a good cause, maybe he could have made her understand.
No. He ran his hand through his hair tiredly. Fuck, he doubted it. He didn't have a problem with what they did – the only thing they'd done wrong tonight was get caught – but he didn't think it was something anyone would understand, let alone Mom. They were alone.
Forget this for now, he told himself with hot angry guilt. He had to go find Rusty. He supposed he could have stayed downstairs and just walked straight out the front door. By the sound of things Mom wouldn't have stopped him. But instead he gently slid window often and with the ease of long practice swung out and grabbed the tree branch. Force of habit, maybe, or maybe he was still convinced that Mom couldn't have given up on him entirely and so he didn't want to risk making her any more mad than she already was.
He dropped to the ground and quickly started jogging towards the street. With any luck Rusty was already on his way here. He didn't want to think about the possibility that Rusty hadn't managed to get away.
The streets were always quiet at this time of night...or morning, rather...which meant that it was easy to spot the small figure stumbling towards him. Fuck. He broke into a sprint and his arm was wrapped below Rusty's shoulder, supporting him, before Rusty had even managed to look up.
Rusty's hand reached up and gripped Danny's."Nice night for a walk, huh?" Rusty said, his voice breathy but strong.
"Just out to see the stars," he agreed, swallowing hard. He could feel Rusty trembling beneath his touch.
"Danny - " Rusty began, lifting his head to focus on him, and Danny was glad it was dark right now.
" - after," he said firmly. They could talk after. First he wanted to get Rusty home so they could rest. (Mom's home, that was. It wasn't his home anymore.)
Rusty seemed exhausted enough and hurt enough that he just nodded. Danny pulled him a little closer and closed his eyes, just for a second. Everything was wrong tonight. He needed this to work...he needed this. With a deep breath, he concentrated on holding Rusty up while they walked back to the house. The only sound was their footsteps, falling in unison.
"My arm's fucked," Rusty announced when they eventually arrived and stood looking up at the tree.
Danny took a deep breath. No matter how much he told himself that Mom was ignoring him now, he couldn't quite believe it, and he really didn't want to risk another confrontation right now. "Think you could manage it one-handed if I helped you?" Wouldn't be the first time. And sometimes the answer was yes, and sometimes it was no.
"Think so," Rusty said, just a fraction more hesitant than Danny liked. But Rusty took a determined step towards the tree, and with a sigh, he followed and bit by bit, step by step, they managed to scramble up and through the bedroom window.
"Get your shirt off," he said as he guided Rusty to the sofa, and headed to the bathroom – because he had to get a cold compress and his first aid kit, and not even a little because he didn't want Rusty so see his face in the light just yet.
He stopped as he walked back into the room. Rusty's face and ribs were a mess, and his shoulder was a mass of swollen purple. The rush of anger was no less fierce for being so tired and so familiar. It hadn't been this bad for a couple of months.
"Here," he murmured, hurrying forwards and kneeling in front of Rusty with a handful of painkillers and a toothglass of water.
Rusty downed both, but his eyes were fixed unblinking on Danny's face and he reached out with his left hand, his thumb gently hovering over Danny's cheek.
Right where Mom had slapped him. He hadn't realised she'd left a mark.
"Yeah," he said in answer to the unspoken question. The fury in Rusty's eyes almost took him by surprise. He forced a laugh. "Really? You're sitting there dripping blood all over the carpet and you're making a fuss about this?"
The look in Rusty's eyes sharpened suddenly. Shit. He quickly turned to the rest of the stuff he'd brought through, and hurriedly pressed the cold compress to Rusty's shoulder, keeping his eyes on what he was doing.
"What should I be making a fuss over?" Rusty asked softly.
"This looks pretty bad," Danny said levelly, not looking up.
"Dislocated," Rusty said shortly. "I popped it back in. It'll heal. Danny..."
He closed his eyes. Rusty reached up and pressed his hand. over Danny's and he could feel the cold water dripping down his wrist. "She disowned me," he said and he wanted to sound light and dismissive and like it didn't matter but he could hear how strange and hollow his voice was.
Rusty's fingers closed around Danny's. "What?"
"It's...she..." The shaking welled up inside him and he felt the cold compress slip out of his hands. Blindly, he reached down to pick it up and he froze as he felt Rusty's arm wrap around him in a clumsy, one-armed hug. He closed his eyes and pressed his face against Rusty's bare shoulder, his own arms twined around Rusty's neck, mindful of the bruises, and he could feel the hot tears prickling his eyes. He struggled to talk past the lump in his throat. "She...she says she's not gonna talk to me again. She says I'm not her responsibility anymore."
"You're her son," Rusty said in a low voice.
The shudder ran through him. "I guess that doesn't matter anymore." He remembered the way she'd looked at him at the end there, and he bit deep into his lip. "She says I can carry on living here till I'm eighteen, but we're not gonna be...we're gonna be like roommates, I guess. Roommates who don't speak."
Rusty squeezed his shoulder. "That's not right," he said. "Danny - "
" - we...I...got arrested," Danny reminded him woodenly. "She has every right to be angry."
"Then so does Dad," Rusty said gently, reaching out and lifting Danny's chin. "Look at me. This look okay to you?"
He looked. There was blood drying across Rusty's face. His eye was almost swollen shut. It didn't look okay at all. Still, he shook his head. "It's - "
" - 's not the reasons, Danny," Rusty interrupted, his voice soft and intent as his thumb stroked down Danny's cheek. "It's the reaction. You're her kid. She shouldn't just throw you away like an old coat, and if she does, it's something wrong with her, not you. She's missing out and she doesn't even know it."
He nodded a couple of times and licked his lips. "You ever think some things aren't forgiveable?"
"Oh, Danny," Rusty sighed. He paused for a second, looking at Danny and then all of a sudden he darted forwards and pressed his lips against Danny's forehead. "There is nothing you could ever do that I wouldn't forgive," he murmured.
Something eased a little in his chest. He leaned back and picked the compress off the floor and pressed it back against Rusty's shoulder. "I just don't know what I'm supposed to do now," he said, suddenly oh-so-tired. "She wants me out as soon as I'm eighteen. That's a year, and she says she's taking my college fund away. I don't know what I'm supposed to do."
It felt like an awful confession. He knew he shouldn't care about the money – he didn't care about the money, even if some dark part of him was saying that Dad had left it to him, and it wasn't Mom's to take away – but this was the future. His future. It had always been just assumed he was going to college. Dad had always talked like he would, hell Mom had always talked like he would, and Danny had just figured that was the way it worked. His grades were good enough, more out of habit than anything else. Wasn't like he had any grand plans for his life, but college would give him more time to figure it out, more opportunities, and it was just what people like him did. Only now it wasn't.
He remembered the way Mom had looked at him when she said it. All cold triumph. She'd wanted him to crawl and grovel, and she'd talked about money but he knew that it was his life she was imagining ruined, and right now he wasn't sure she was wrong.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do," he whispered again. Where was he supposed to go? He felt more adrift than he ever had in his life. He imagined the morning of his eighteenth birthday, standing on the wrong side of the front door, suitcase in hand, with nowhere to go and watching Mom turn away. Oh, God. He shoved the heel of his hand up against the bridge of his nose. He'd always been an optimist, but right now the future was looking bleak.
"Okay." Rusty reached up and pulled his hand away from his face, and led him up and onto the sofa next to him.
"Hey," he protested, as the compress slipped out of his hand for a second, but all his protests died away at the expression of complete confidence in Rusty's eyes.
"This is not the end of the world," Rusty told him fiercely. "I know it feels like it, but this is just a roadblock or some shit like that. We just need to think about this. You'll be eighteen. You want to go to college? So let's figure out how to make that happen. You don't need your mother's permission, you just need to pay. There are scholarships, you know that. Funding, loans, whatever. There are ways of taking care of tuition. And living expenses...we have a year and we have a whole bunch of ways of getting money. We can do this, Danny. We can make this work for you, I swear."
(Rusty said 'we'. Danny knew he meant 'I'.)
The absolute and unshakeable faith was almost too much to stand. "Is that what you're planning on doing?" he asked, as much for something to say that didn't actually acknowledge – everything – as anything else.
There was a barely-noticeable pause. "Sure," Rusty said dismissively. "Okay. So, the way I figure it, you're going to have to decide where - "
Danny frowned. " - what was that?"
Another pause and Rusty didn't look up. "I don't know what you - "
" - don't give me I-don't-know-what-you-mean, what was that?" His voice was a little sharper than it should be. But this wasn't a night for Rusty to be hiding things from him.
"Fuck," Rusty muttered. He rubbed his fingers around his mouth, and Danny sighed and leaned forwards and dabbed away the blood he was spreading around. "I'm not going to college, Danny. I'm not gonna finish high school."
"What?" He felt his brow furrow. That felt like that had come out of nowhere. "Since when?" They both realised he was talking too loud at the same time, and with a glance towards the bedroom door, Rusty quickly shushed him.
"Since always," he said with a shrug. "Soon as I'm old enough to get away with it, I'm gonna move out, get a job somewhere and find some motel that'll take my money and not call child services."
Rusty sounded resigned and matter-of-fact. The picture he was painting wasn't what he wanted, it was just what he felt had to happen, and Danny hated it.
"You know," he began. "Most jobs want - "
" - I can flip burgers or wash dishes with the best of them," Rusty said, chin raised. "Plus, I can pick pockets to earn a little more when I need it. Don't look like that, Danny. I'll be fine."
Yeah. He'd heard that before, a time or twenty. "You ever think 'fine' isn't good enough?" he asked softly.
"What's the alternative?" Rusty demanded in a hushed angry voice. "Stick it out for another four years with Dad? Let him smack me around just so I can get my fucking high school diploma? Even when - " He shut his mouth hurriedly, guilt written all over his face.
Still too late. Danny heard it anyway. " - Even when I'm gone and you won't have any place to run to," he finished hollowly. Him leaving Rusty behind was one of the few things they never talked about. Rusty didn't like thinking about the future he knew, but now he was beginning to think that maybe Rusty just didn't see one. "Fuck," he said heavily. "Why didn't you say something?"
"It's not all that," Rusty said uncomfortably. "Guys like me don't go to college."
Danny's eyebrows shot up. "Guys like you?" he repeated dangerously. "Want to explain exactly what you mean by that, and why you're encouraging me to go? What the fuck makes us so different all of a sudden?"
"Danny..." Rusty sighed. "'s just what it is. You deserve every good thing going. And your grades are much better than mine anyway."
"Yes," Danny nodded. "Yes they are. And you do half my homework and keep your grades below average on purpose."
"That's not the point," Rusty protested. "Fact is, if you asked any one of my teachers they'd all say they assumed I was gonna drop out of school as soon as possible." He smiled humourlessly. "Education is wasted on me," he added in an exaggerated imitation of Attwood.
"They don't know anything," Danny spat. Rusty's teachers were the same bastards who sent letters home when Rusty was missing school and never saw the bruises when he came back. They didn't get to have an opinion on what Rusty could do. "Rus..." He reached out and took Rusty's hand, holding it tightly. "You don't want to go to college, that's fine. But you should have the choice." Like he should. He took a deep breath as the anger died down; there had been something exhausted beneath Rusty's voice there. Something a little bit hopeless, a little bit deadened, and he thought that Rusty had been carrying this a long time. "So your plan is I leave for college – which I pay for somehow – and you just up sticks and vanish and I never hear from you again?"
"I'd have your address," Rusty told him quickly. "I'd write to you." And even though his voice said obviously, hidden in his eyes Danny could read the doubt as to whether, or for how long, Danny would actually write back. Rusty didn't think that they were forever. Rusty thought Danny was going to set foot in the brave new world of college life and forget all about him. Sometimes Danny thought Rusty didn't think very much of him at all, except it would be more true to say that sometimes Rusty didn't think very much of himself, no matter how much Danny tried to persuade him otherwise.
With a sigh, he gently reached across Rusty's shoulders and pulled him close, alert to any sign of pain. After a second Rusty let his head fall against Danny's arm.
"Wish I could just take you with me," Danny said softly.
Rusty snorted. "Yeah. I don't think they let you keep friends in your dorm room."
But Danny had frozen, his eyes wide. "How about in off campus housing?" he asked breathlessly. "If I – we – had our own apartment, no one could object, right?"
Rusty looked up at him sharply, blinking. "Wait, are you serious?"
"Why not?" he asked, almost giddy with this new possibility.
"Well, for a start, we'll both be underage," Rusty pointed out.
Danny waved a hand, dismissing the detail. "We got a year to put together some really good fake IDs. We can say I'm your guardian or some shit like that." It could work. He was sure they could make it work, and the look he turned on Rusty was desperate and pleading.
"Danny..." Rusty said hesitantly, and Danny had no doubt that he had already thought of a dozen little problematic details, but mostly what he was asking was are you sure you want this?
"Yes," he said fiercely. "Rus', this makes more sense than anything else does. Like you said, there are scholarships and funding. I'll look into those to help with tuition, and we can start going after bigger scores to get money to help with the rest and with rent and living expenses and shit. Mom...they don't think we can do this. Let's prove them wrong."
"You want to get educated out of spite?" Rusty asked, dark amusement curling the corner of his mouth.
Danny looked straight at him. "I want to give us a chance to live."
There was silence for a long moment. Then Rusty nodded. "A lot's gonna depend on what college you apply for. Be easier in a big city. We could be anonymous."
He grinned helplessly at the acceptance. "We can start looking at that along with the funding thing next week," he promised. They were actually going to do this. For the first time he felt genuinely excited at the prospect of going to college. Rusty would be safe. They could be together and live without constantly having to look over their shoulder, afraid of their parents.
"I can get a job for during the day while you're at college," Rusty mused. "That should help with money a bit."
Danny's smile faded slightly. "Or you could go to school," he said lightly, but when Rusty met his eyes his gaze was firm. Rusty didn't see a future for himself, but Danny wanted to find him one and school was just the first step.
There was a pause then Rusty nodded. "Or I could go to school," he agreed. He yawned suddenly and Danny grimaced. The sun was coming up now; and Rusty looked pale beneath the bruises.
"Let's lie down for a while," he suggested. He didn't know if he could sleep, but if nothing else, they could rest while they talked. They were gonna have to work hard if they were going to make this work. From now on, he figured there probably wasn't going to be much time to rest.
For now though they crept below the duvet. After a moment, Rusty curled up against his arm. Danny held him tight and tried to cling on to the feeling that everything was going to be fine, ignoring the way the memory of the look on Mom's face crowded through his head. For a while they talked in soft voices until they finally fell asleep.
Rusty woke up to the feeling of Danny gently stroking a hand through his hair. Without opening his eyes, he huddled a little deeper into the pillow, his mind still floating hazily someplace without memory. But when Danny gently pulled his arm out from beneath Rusty's chest and started to slip out of bed, he came awake in an instant, stifling a moan of pain as he moved. He looked up at Danny, trying to ask where he was going.
"I need to go answer the phone," Danny told him, lines of tension showing around his eyes. "Go back to sleep."
He hesitated for a second, but his head was pounding and Danny didn't seem scared, so he nodded and let his eyes close again. This wasn't gonna be a day for moving around too much.
He didn't hear the door, but a moment later Danny was standing over him again, pressing a glass of juice into his hands, along with a couple of painkillers. He looked up and tiredly smiled his thanks.
"I need to go out for a bit," Danny said slowly. .
Oh. He swallowed the pills down, nodding slightly, just a little too tired to speak. He ached.
"Rus'...?" Danny said uncertainly.
For a second he didn't understand, then he saw the familiar fear in Danny's eyes and with a flash of understanding he quickly offered an understanding smile. "'s okay," he promised, as much for showing he was still talking as anything else.
Wasn't enough though. There was practically nothing left of the giddy optimism Danny had been wearing last night. He was frowning even before Danny squeezed his hand and tonelessly said "I won't be long," and turned to walk towards the door.
Wait. Danny had got a phonecall, and now he was leaving, and all the joy and hope from last night had faded...oh, fuck. There was only one place Danny could be going right now. "Patricia?" he asked quickly.
Danny didn't look round, but he paused and nodded, and Rusty winced. Yeah. Of course. Things had changed last night. Danny was focused on next year and everything they were going to have to do to get there, and here he was thinking that his relationship with Patricia would be a distraction, and more than that, he wouldn't have time to spend with her. And yeah, Rusty liked Pat too, and he thought she deserved Danny's full attention, but the reason why she deserved it was that she would understand.
"Danny. Think about it," he pleaded, already knowing it was futile. He could tell by the set of Danny's shoulders he'd already made up his mind and he wasn't surprised when Danny just shrugged and walked out the room.
Left alone, he sighed and painfully rolled over onto his back, wincing slightly as the mattress pressed against his bruises. Maybe Patricia would be able to talk Danny out of this. Not that he wanted Danny talked out of this exactly...just that he worried about whether this was really what was best for Danny.
His lips thinned; what was best for Danny would be if his Mom was being reasonable and taking care of him like she should. But that wasn't gonna happen. Remembering the fractured hurt and confusion in Danny's eyes – remembering the mark where she'd hit him, just like Rusty had always been afraid she would - there was a part of him that wanted to go find her and give her a piece of his mind, but he could imagine the way that conversation would go. He couldn't make her listen to him because she'd never believe for a second that he was worth listening to.
It was funny, but he'd really never thought of leaving town with Danny. Not even in a sort of day-dreamy what-if way. It wasn't like he hadn't imagined what would happen when Danny left. Oh, it wasn't something he dwelled on, not if he could help it, but he'd known Danny was planning on going to college and getting away from here as soon as he could. And that was something he was content to encourage and be supportive of, and he'd never planned to so much as breathe a word of how miserable he was at the thought of being left behind. However they felt, whatever Danny thought, sooner or later the differences between them that the world saw would make a difference. Things were expected of Danny. Not the great things that Rusty knew he was capable of, but things nonetheless. The only thing expected of Rusty was that he'd turn out a fuck-up, just like Dad. And of course that wasn't gonna happen – he wasn't gonna let that happen – but his plans had been more about surviving the first few years until he was old enough to legally live on his own and then find out how to make his life count.
He should've known that Danny would have expectations of him...no. For him. Danny wanted him happy and safe, just as he always had, and Rusty had to admit his own plans carried little chance of either whereas being with Danny – being far away and free and with Danny – sounded pretty damned close to paradise to him.
More importantly, this was obviously what Danny wanted. That much had been obvious from the way he'd laid the plan out, fast and giddy and hopeful, his eyes shining the way they did when it was important. Plus as long as he was with Danny, Danny would always have someone to watch his back, and earning enough money to get by would be that much easier.
Danny wanted this. And that meant Rusty was determined not to let him down. No matter what the problem he would find a way to make it work for both their sakes.
He just wished Danny didn't feel like that all this meant he had to break up with Patricia.
By the time Danny came back he'd managed to get up, wash the caked blood out of his hair, and find some clothes he'd left here last time and Danny had apparently laundered at some point. It took some time to get ready. There was a numb tingling in his arm that was only broken by a sharp pain when he tried to move it. Good job he could write just as well with his left hand or he'd be in trouble at school on Monday. Catching sight of the bruises on his reflection, he sighed. More trouble, rather.
Exhausted, he lay back down again and started trying to figure out everything they would need to do before next year, and that was when Danny walked back in. He hadn't been crying, but his eyes were suspiciously shiny.
Rusty sat up immediately, ignoring the protest from his ribs. "Did - "
" - it's done," Danny said shortly. He just stood there for a moment, looking almost lost, and Rusty shuffled over a couple of inches invitingly, and it was a relief when Danny sighed and sat beside him on the bed, leaning in so close their shoulders touched.
"How'd she take it?" Rusty asked quietly.
"How do you think?" Danny retorted, rubbing at his forehead, his eyes closed.
Rusty reached up and captured his hand. "Sorry."
Danny leaned back. "Not your fault."
Except it kind of was. Because Danny had made a choice here as to what was important, and he hadn't chosen her. And maybe it was worth trying to make it work, maybe they were rushing into things here, maybe if Danny wasn't so focused on him...
"You made the wrong choice," he told Danny guiltily.
Opening his eyes, Danny turned to face him and very, very gently pressed his lips against Rusty's. "Sometimes there's no choice at all."
There was part of him that wanted to argue. There was more of him caught up in wonder. Sometimes, so much more often than he ever wanted to admit, he wondered if he was really worth Danny's attention. When Danny looked at him like that he knew beyond all shadow of a doubt he was.
Danny gave an unselfconscious shrug. "Anyway," he said. "'s done. So what's next?"
A/N: Thanks for reading, please let me know if you liked it. :)