A/N: Thank you for reviews, favourites and follows! Here is another chapter
There was a dull screaming sound echoing around inside Danny's skull. It had started right about the moment he'd opened the door, and it didn't show any sign of stopping any time soon. He couldn't focus. He couldn't think. It felt like everything clean and safe in the world had crumbled away, leaving him nothing but a bitter shell and a desperate need to protect Rusty. Only he didn't even know how.
It was cramped under the bed. He was lying on the floor, stretched out so he could see where Rusty was huddled against the wall, curled up and hiding as much of himself as possible. Rusty had warned him off getting any closer with a look, and that was as close as Rusty had come to actually meeting his eyes.
This was so much worse than anything Danny had imagined. Rusty was silent and trembling and bleeding, and Danny longed to reach out and hold him and somehow promise that it was all going to be okay.
But it wasn't all okay. And Danny couldn't see how it could ever be okay again.
This wasn't what he had been imagining. He hadn't been able to see Rusty, and he'd been afraid, but he'd tried to be rational, and rationally he'd thought that Rusty had to be somewhere safe. Trapped and alone, maybe, but safe. He'd thought that was how it was supposed to work. Rusty wasn't supposed to be sent somewhere worse. And right from the moment when the mayor had told him where Rusty was, he'd been apprehensive, because Rusty didn't have 'mental difficulties', and he'd figured that maybe Rusty hadn't started talking again, but nothing had prepared him for what he'd seen.
What he'd seen. He wasn't naïve. He knew what he'd seen. He just hadn't imagined...why would anyone want to? Why would anyone hurt Rusty like that? He was almost disappointed that Saul had taken Mayhew out the room. He thought that maybe he could've found something sharp. Could've done what he should've done to Rusty's father a long time ago.
He was still talking. Meaningless, reassuring nonsense, and it meant nothing more then I found you.
Rusty raised his head minutely and glanced out from under the bed, looking in the direction of the door.
"That's Saul," Danny said immediately. "He's a good guy. He saw me asking about you to the woman at social services. I've been looking for you," he added quickly. "I'd never stop looking for you but I don't know I'd have had a hope of finding you if it wasn't for Saul." He swallowed hard, trying not to think about what could've been. "He got the mayor involved. Got them to bring us here, and then once we were in, he just started searching for you." Thank God. Cos maybe, if they'd done what Mrs Warren suggested and waited in the reception, Dr Mayhew might have just come and talked to them and hidden Rusty away, and they'd never have found out what he did. He struggled to choke back the sob. He might never have known, and Rusty would have stayed down here, being hurt, being...being... "I owe him so much," he whispered.
Rusty flinched, and Danny was aware of the swirling storm of emotion.
"What?" he asked gently.
Rusty still didn't look at him, his head ducked painfully away.
Danny tried to concentrate. After all, he'd always been able to read Rusty. That wasn't allowed to have changed.
There was fear, most of all. Terror. Pain and shame and heartache, and all of those were familiar, but not like this. And there was concern. For him? About Saul...
Rusty thought Saul would hurt him, or Rusty thought Saul would... "Hey. I don't think he's like that," he promised.
The disbelief was immediate and absolute, and Danny felt himself doubting in the face of it. "He helped us," he protested. "And he beat the crap out of that...that..." There weren't any words strong enough. Not that Danny knew. Maybe not in the world. The memory of the man on top of Rusty, raping him, burned through his mind again, and he screwed his eyes up tight, his fingernails buried deep in his palms, trying to keep the screaming inside. "I don't think Saul's like that," he said again, firmly.
Still Rusty implored him.
He sighed. "I'll be careful," he promised. "I won't drop my guard. But Rus', we got more important things to think of right now. You're hurt. We're going to need to go to the hospital. I guess Saul and the others will come back, and the police, and we need to be ready."
The horror and pain and fear made his heart ache. The surprise was somehow worse.
"Of course we're not going to leave you," he said at once. "Rus'. This isn't...you saw the way Saul reacted. This isn't the way things are supposed to be."
Rusty was filled with doubt and shame and self blame.
Danny didn't know what to say to make it better.
Nothing had changed when Saul walked back into the room. He could still see the edge of Danny's sneaker poking out from under the bed, could still hear Danny talking, apparently urging Rusty to come out from under the bed. He still couldn't hear Rusty answer though. He hadn't heard Rusty's voice once.
He cleared his throat loudly. "I'm back," he announced, not wanting them to be surprised.
There was a moment of silence.
He had to work on being as unthreatening as possible. The cops would be here soon and he couldn't help but think that everything would be better for Rusty if he met them on his own two feet. Especially if the alternative was being dragged out. He couldn't trust anyone else to be gentle.
He'd found the child. Somehow that meant the child was his responsibility, and he wasn't going to walk away until he was sure the child was safe and looked after.
"Mayhew is restrained," he went on. "He's not going to come near you again. You're safe, Rusty. You have my word. Won't you come out of here?"
Nothing. He took a deep breath. The room smelled foul. The air was heavy with sex and sweat and blood and filth. This wasn't a one off.
Perhaps the only thing to do was be honest. "Very soon now," he said softly. "There's going to be police and social workers down here. They're going to take you to hospital and they 're going to need to examine you, and talk to you about what happened. There's going to be a lot of people." He thought maybe he heard the faintest gasp. Not from Danny. "They're going to be helping you," he emphasised. "But it might be a little overwhelming." He swallowed hard. "If you'll let me, I'll try and protect you. I'll try and make it as easy as possible. Try and make sure Danny can stay, at least for a while. It wasn't much. Hell, it wasn't anything but he wasn't going to promise anything he couldn't deliver. "Let me at least try."
There was more silence. But somehow, he got the impression he was being listened to.
He glanced around the room, more out of optimism than anything else. "Do you have any clothes anyplace around here?" Not in this room, obviously. But maybe back in one of those cells.
"No," Danny's voice said, a few minutes later, miserable and subdued. "There's nothing."
The implications didn't escape him. He tried not to think about it, quickly pulling off his coat. "Here," he said, pushing it under the bed. "Why don't you put this on?"
He waited for a breathless second, and the coat disappeared under the bed. "That's good," he said softly.
A moment later, Danny stood up, and when he looked at Saul his eyes were anxious and grateful, all at once.
Saul could only hope he wouldn't disappoint.
It seemed forever until Rusty shuffled out from under the bed and stood up, apart from Saul and Danny, not looking at them.
It was the first time that Saul had actually had a chance to see the child properly. He was thin, that was the first thing he noticed. Far thinner than any child should ever be, his skin stretched tight over his bones. It seemed as though there was blood and bruises on every visible bit of flesh, and Saul's coat was wrapped tightly around him, like armour. He was filthy too – Saul wasn't even sure what colour his hair was – and there was...liquid...crusted over his face and especially around his mouth.
Saul looked at him, heart aching for the bravery it was taking for the child to just stand there. He wanted to make sure that nothing hurt him. Not ever again.
"Thank you, Rusty," he said quietly.
There was a noise on the stairs. The sound of people running. People shouting. People coming towards them.
He took a deep breath and looked at each of the boys in turn; Danny, standing in front of Rusty, protective and terrified and defiant; Rusty, poised, not to run, but to shove Danny aside, to protect him, blank and damaged and so very, very afraid.
"It's going to be alright," he promised. "Somehow, I swear, I'm going to make it alright."
He turned to face the door as they came in, Mrs Warren flanked by two cops. "I'm glad you're here," he said, inclining his head sharply. "Let's get this sorted as quickly as possible, shall we?"
He was going to keep his promise. No matter what that meant.
Rusty had done something wrong and he wasn't even sure exactly what it was. He'd been trying to be good this time, he really had. Good and grateful and obedient, only somehow Dr Mayhew had known that he wasn't and he still just wanted out. Dr Mayhew's voice had been sad when he'd told Rusty that his punishment would need to last a while longer.
He didn't think he'd been bad enough that they'd take him away. Let alone send Danny... He'd struggled while Dr Mayhew was using him. But he always did, and normally that just earned him a beating or time in the chair. This...this was worse than that. Maybe even worse than the quiet room. There were so many people and most of them he didn't recognise. None of the staff from the institute were here, but there were cops and social workers, and Mrs Warren was among them, and she'd been the one who took him here in the first place. How was she going to react to finding out how bad he'd been? How ungrateful? She'd told him to make sure and do everything Dr Mayhew said. Worse, they were all looking at him, staring at him while they talked among themselves, trying to decide what to do, like he was a cockroach they'd found on the bottom of their shoe, and he hurt, and he was humiliated and naked.
Not quite naked. He pulled the coat that Saul had given him a little tighter around himself and immediately felt guilty. He was getting Saul's coat all dirty. He wasn't supposed to get his filth on normal people. A few sessions spent polishing Dr Mayhew's shoes had convinced him of that. The tastememory of dirt and leather rose in his mind and he seized on it eagerly, trying to fill his head with it. So much better than the alternatives.
He should give the coat back though. He knew it. But it was warm and it covered him, and he just couldn't bring himself to. Besides, Saul had offered it to him. Better to be bad now and hang onto it. Consequences ...gratitude... could come later.
Saul had said that he was going to be taken to hospital and examined. The thought had him shaking inside. The last time that had happened, Mrs Warren and the doctors had decided that he wasn't good enough to live among normal people anymore, and they'd sent him off to Dr Mayhew for correction, and now even that hadn't been enough.
And Dr Mayhew hadn't even wanted to see him. Saul had told the cops to make sure Dr Mayhew was out of the way before he'd let them take Rusty anywhere.
Saul was talking calmly and patiently, but Rusty could sense the exasperation and it made him nervous. He longed to hide again. But he was trying to be strong, and he stood beside Danny and waited.
Danny had said what Dr Mayhew was doing was wrong. He seemed to think that the cops were going to take Dr Mayhew away and he'd get in trouble. Rusty doubted it. Danny didn't always see the way the world worked. All that was going to happen was that Dr Mayhew would sit down with the other adults and explain how Rusty was a burden and a parasite and all the rest of it, that he was sick, and they needed to waste time and money looking after him, feeding him, giving him medicine, all the while knowing that he'd never be worth it, and Rusty still remained defiant and ungrateful on top of that. He'd explain all that, and they'd all agree that Rusty deserved to be punished, that he wasn't a normal child, and that his...his caregivers...were allowed to use him in any way they liked. Probably Saul would even apologise for punching Dr Mayhew.
He'd liked that. He'd enjoyed seeing Dr Mayhew hurt. And if he needed any more proof that the problem lay with him, there it was. He was simply a bad kid.
He'd liked it, but at the same time, it had been frightening. He'd seen the fury and the disgust and he'd assumed that Saul would come after him next and he'd hid like a little coward, and he didn't know whether he'd been more scared that Saul would find him or Dr Mayhew. Would've been best if no one had found him. If he could just disappear...
Only Danny had been there.
Probably once Dr Mayhew had finished explaining, and they'd examined Rusty and realise they couldn't talk to him anyway, he'd be sent straight back here. Only it would be worse, cos he'd have caused all this fuss. They'd never let him back upstairs with the others. He'd be locked down here in the basement for the rest of his life.
He shivered at the thought, and Danny stepped forwards quietly. "What is it?" he asked softly.
Rusty shook his head quickly. No way he could share the thought. Especially not with the cops and the social workers and Saul just over there, talking. If they knew how much he dreaded this place and being punished, they wouldn't even need Dr Mayhew to convince them he was ungrateful.
And that wasn't even the worst case scenario. Maybe they'd examine him and find that he really didn't deserve to be here, and they'd send him somewhere worse. He wasn't sure he could even imagine what that would be like, but he thought maybe he'd rather die. Or maybe they'd just wash their hands of him altogether, and throw him out on the street.
Would that really be so bad?
He'd be able to earn money pickpocketing and he'd be able to at least try to run when someone tried to use him or hurt him.
Of course the best case scenario would be if they just gave him back to Dad. If Dad would even take him back... But then everything could just go back to normal, and he'd be fine and he could do as he pleased and be free to see Danny.
Saul finished talking to the other adults and turned round to him. "Alright, Rusty. Danny. There's a car waiting upstairs to take us to the hospital. Are you ready?"
He kept his eyes fixed on the floor respectfully, and nodded his head in quick acknowledgement. Best to just go along with it.
The cops walked out first, and he followed them meekly, Danny just beside him, Saul a half step behind, hovering anxiously. Probably afraid Rusty would run off and make him look bad, after all his efforts. Well, running didn't exactly seem possible right now. Not that it had ever exactly had a chance to go away since the first time, but right now he could hardly walk. The pain was deep and fresh and he was limping badly, hobbling along, his steps heavy. Walking like a fucking sissy, Dad would say, and the tone of disgust was so real in his head that he had to look around quickly to be sure Dad wasn't somehow here.
Unsurprisingly, he stumbled on the stairs and fell to his knees, biting his tongue hard. Danny was there in a second, his arm around Rusty's waist, helping him up. Rusty flinched back instantly, lightly pushing Danny away. Danny shouldn't touch him. Danny might get contaminated, somehow, and Rusty would never forgive himself for that. Danny shouldn't have to touch him.
"Are you alright?" Saul asked from behind him. "Did you hurt yourself when you fell?"
Saul sounded concerned. Probably disturbed by the fact he couldn't even manage to walk. He shook his head quickly, glad that at least Saul didn't seem intent on vocal answers. He couldn't. He really, truly couldn't.
"Come on then, kiddo," Saul said gruffly. "We've just got to get through this and then we'll get you settled somewhere with a good meal, a hot bath and a warm bed.
Unconsciously, he tilted his head to one side, listening. He didn't really believe Saul's words but...he liked the tone. Made him feel...something. Warm, maybe. Like it might almost be worth having to be grateful for what Saul was offering.
He looked down quickly and determinedly started walking up the stairs again.
The other kids were lined up in the lobby, like they were waiting to be taken somewhere. Maybe they were all going to the hospital too? He recognised most of them. There were a couple of unfamiliar faces, but he couldn't be certain whether they were new or if he'd just missed them before.
He could feel them looking at him, and as he limped towards the front door, he heard someone wolf whistle. He looked round quickly and Kenny Brewer was leaning against the wall, laughing and making a jerk-off gesture. He flushed, quickly looking away, remembering the furtive hand job he'd given Kenny in the boys' restroom, in exchange for not telling anyone that he'd seen Rusty stealing food.
He didn't even notice until it was too late when Danny stepped past him, angrily moving to confront Kenny, and that was a really stupid idea, because Danny was eleven and Kenny was almost eighteen. But before Danny moved more than two steps, Saul was there, his hand on Danny's shoulder, holding Danny back. "Not a good idea," he said in a low voice, so that only they could hear, and Rusty found himself agreeing and he hoped that Danny could understand his plea because he didn't want Danny hurt, not for anything.
"Yeah," Danny said softly, looking straight at him. "Sorry, Rus'." There was aching regret in his voice, but Rusty wasn't sure what he was apologising for, and still the other kids were jeering.
He tried to smile at Danny, but he couldn't, so he just walked out the door instead.
It was dark and the cold hit him immediately. It had to be winter. The last time he'd been outdoors it had been summer. How long had he been here? He couldn't even begin to guess.
"I should have found you a pair of shoes," Saul commented unhappily.
Rusty shrugged. It wasn't important. He picked his way down the concrete steps and onto the gravel before Saul had a chance to say anything. It hurt, but compared to...it really wasn't that important.
"Come on then," Saul said resignedly, walking past him and holding the car door open for him.
They passed a school bus driving in as they drove out. Must be taking the other kids where ever they were going, he figured. He had to admit, he was glad he wasn't on it. He wasn't the only one who got it, but he was the youngest by three years or more. He wasn't a potential friend or ally, he was just a target.
Still, it had been so much better when he'd been upstairs.
He'd been kept downstairs for a long time when he'd first arrived. Dr Mayhew said he needed time to acclimatise to his new surroundings, and that meant they had to keep him locked up in the tiny cell until he understood the rules. Simple enough. Being grateful for what he was given. How everything they did was for his own good. How he should be thankful when Dr Mayhew – or anyone – used him, because at least he was contributing something.
He learned things he didn't want to. Ways to move. What he should be doing with his mouth. How best to please.
When he was alone, and he was sure no one could hear him, he lay staring at the door, his arms wrapped around his body in a desperate self-hug, and willed himself to cry. The tears never came. Not even when he thought of Danny and remembered everything he'd lost.
He'd assumed that was it. That his world was now a small cell and a larger room with a bed. Then one day, one of the orderlies – Victor, he'd learned later, but no one ever bothered with introductions – had walked into his cell. He'd been brusque and rough, and he'd had Rusty use his mouth to clean him up, and then afterwards as he was tucking himself away, he'd told Rusty to follow him, and he'd been taken first to the shower block where he'd been doused with cold water and harsh soap from a powerful hose, and then he'd been given a pair of track shorts and a grey t-shirt that was too big for him, and left in the middle of the dormitory, and that had been that. He was upstairs.
It was better upstairs. There was noise and day and night, and food twice a day, and showers and toilets and clothes. But he was still expected to be grateful and good. He had to pay Dr Mayhew and the others back for everything he was given. He'd be pulled out of bed in the middle of the night, or called out to Dr Mayhew's office, or taken for a therapy session. It didn't get easier. It didn't stop. And when he stepped out of line, or when he looked like he might be considering defiance, punishment was swift and harsh and physical.
Rusty had long ago resigned himself to the knowledge that he was bad. Being bad meant surviving, and he was only in trouble if he got caught. Being good meant letting himself get hurt or killed or worse. So he was bad, and as soon as he saw an opportunity he'd tried to escape. There had been some disturbance in the dining room. An argument between a few of the older boys, and as they'd been dragged apart, Rusty had taken off, running for the front door. He'd made it too; got the door open and as the light came flooding in, he recoiled, painfully blinded.
That had been an end to it. He'd disappointed everyone, and when they'd finally let him out of the quiet room, he'd been dragged to his cell and dumped in a heap in the middle of the floor.
He was bad and he was ungrateful. And still they didn't just leave him alone to rot.
Familiar buildings sped by. This was the way they'd driven in when they'd been taking him from the hospital. So that was where they were going. He didn't want to. He didn't want their disapproval, their looks and questions. Why couldn't they just let him go?
A touch on his hand – Danny touching his hand – and he snatched it away immediately, glaring furiously. No! Danny shouldn't touch him. Not ever.
"Rus'," Danny said in a whisper, unfastening his seatbelt and sliding across the back seat until he was sitting right next to Rusty, almost no space between them at all. "Please. Don't shut me out. I want to help you."
Danny did want to help him. Of course Danny wanted to help him, for two years now that had been all Danny wanted from him, and there was a mess of feelings of guilt and unworthiness and confusion tied up with that thought, and a shame that had never been there before and that practically drowned out the wonder. He wasn't worth Danny's time. He wasn't worth Danny's attention. And he was far too dirty for Danny to touch.
He didn't know how to explain that. Probably he couldn't have explained that even using words. He scrubbed anxiously at the back of his hand where Danny had touched him, and even there the flakes of blood and filth were apparent. He didn't...couldn't actually look at Danny, but he tried to broadcast the regret and the explanation, willing Danny to understand.
For a long second he could feel the weight of Danny's stare. Then insistently but slowly, as if still trying not to startle him, Danny leaned forwards and wrapped his arms around Rusty loosely.
"None of that makes a difference to me, Rus'," Danny whispered in his ear. "You're my friend. You're my everything. That's all that matters." Impossibly he brushed a kiss against Rusty's cheek, and Rusty should be shoving Danny away, should be concentrating on what was in Danny's best interests, because whatever Danny might say, that was what was important.
Instead his treacherous hands curled in Danny's shirt, and he was clinging on like Danny could save him, and even as he trembled, Danny held him tighter.
A/N: Thanks for reading, please review. :)