A/N: Three chapters of this fic has only taken us through a few hours. You can probably guess from that that this is not going to be a fast moving story.
Once they arrived at the hospital they were taken to the end of a corridor in ER, which was closed off by a couple of curtains so they had some privacy at least. Danny wasn't certain if this was normal, but then he didn't think that anything in this situation was normal. Right now he was content to hold Rusty's hand tightly and watch Saul handle the doctors and the cops and the social workers, and it seemed to Danny like Saul was the only thing keeping them from being overwhelmed.
Rusty hadn't pushed him away again, but Danny thought that was maybe because he wasn't really aware that Danny was touching him. The moment they'd actually got into the hospital Rusty had tensed up, plainly terrified. It had taken Danny a moment or two to realise why. The last time Rusty had been here...probably the only time Rusty had been here...had been the night Mom had taken him away.
Danny thought he would never forgive Mom for that.
He followed them, of course. He'd figured he could walk to the hospital within a few hours or so, but Mom had passed him on her way back and she'd stopped and dragged him bodily into the car. She'd said...hateful things. And he'd screamed at her, shouting and swearing. Like a toddler throwing a tantrum over losing his favourite toy, Mom had said, the disgust in her voice coming across loud and clear. And he'd tried to say that people weren't toys, that Rusty wasn't a toy, but she'd just looked at him scornfully and told him he was being silly. She said that Rusty was in the right place now. That they shouldn't get involved.
He hated her. That had been one of the worst nights of his life, and before that Rusty had been so hurt, and afterwards Rusty had been gone and he'd been so alone, and it was all so, so much worse for Rusty.
And all he could do was hold Rusty's hand and pray that, somehow, this would turn out alright.
"Okay," Saul said quietly, walking over to join them. "Danny, the cops are going to want to talk to you about everything. Rusty, they're going to examine you and take some photos."
Rusty let go of Danny's hand instantly and shrank back, drawing his legs up to his chest and all-but-disappearing into Saul's coat.
Saul sighed and crouched down in front of Rusty. "I know," he said sincerely, and somehow Danny thought that maybe he did understand. "I will not lie to you, Rusty, it's going to be hard. But no one here is going to hurt you. They need to examine you in order to treat you, and they need to take the photographs in order to put that man in prison."
"Dr Mayhew," Danny clarified quietly. "I told you."
He could sense Rusty's suspicion and disbelief and he didn't know how to convince him.
Saul looked at Rusty seriously. "What was done to you," he began gently. "Was very wrong. Monstrous. One of the very worst crimes that can be committed. It is unforgivable and...Dr Mayhew deserves to be punished for it. At the very least he will spend a very, very long time in prison. Do you understand, Rusty?"
A fractional shake of Rusty's head, as if he wasn't quite aware of having done it.
"One day you will," Saul promised softly. "In the meantime it is important that he doesn't get the chance to do that to you or any other child again. And it's even more important that you get the medical treatment you need, and you get to live somewhere safe, with plenty of food, where no one will hurt you.
Somewhere in the middle of Saul's speech, Rusty had shut down, shaking his head in blank, uncomprehending denial. Danny was frightened that if Saul pushed him any further right now, Rusty would crack and Saul seemed to realise it, because he changed the subject, turning to Danny instead.
"Danny, you'll need to call your parents. They need to know where you are."
He swallowed hard. "It's fine. I don't need to talk to them. They won't have noticed I'm gone yet."
Saul looked at him sharply. "Maybe not, but you still need to call them. If the police are going to interview you, they'll want to be there."
Danny thought about telling Mom that he was at the hospital with Rusty, and the police wanted to talk to him. "I can't," he whispered pleadingly.
To his surprise, Saul laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it gently. "If you'd rather I could call for you. But they'll probably want to talk to you as well. To be sure you're alright."
That sounded much better, and he wondered if that made him a coward.
There was a phone just a short distance down the corridor, thankfully, because he sure as hell wasn't going to be more than a few feet away from Rusty right now.
He dialled the numbed and handed Saul the phone and listened wonderingly as Saul talked to his Mom. It wasn't like the way that Saul talked to him or Rusty, it was like the way Saul had talked to the mayor and Mrs Warren. Sort of superior without being arrogant. Confident and confiding and absolutely, relentlessly charming and Danny had no doubt that Mom would fall for it just as the others had.
But it wasn't the way Saul talked to them and Danny found himself wondering which was real? Was Saul just placating them or was he conning the rest of the world. He simply didn't know and it made him uneasy.
By the time Saul passed the phone to him, it seemed like Mom was resigned to the situation. Certainly she didn't start out yelling, and that was already more than he would have expected.
"I'll be there in an hour or so, Daniel. I have a couple of calls to make first. Do not talk to anyone before I get there, do you understand me?"
"Yes, Mom," he agreed obediently, and he barely had time to say goodbye before she hung up.
"I'm sorry, Danny," Saul said quietly. "Your parents have to know where you are. It's the only responsible thing to do."
"She took Rusty away before," he said, equally softly. "He was hurt and she drove him here and just left him."
Saul looked at him for long moment. "That isn't going to happen this time," he said.
Danny didn't know if he dared hope that wasn't just an empty promise. But nothing ever changed for the better.
They'd taken Rusty into the treatment room at long last. Just as well; Saul didn't think he could have stayed quiet about it too much longer. Seemed as if getting the injured traumatised child medical attention should have been further up the priority list, but then he wasn't a medical professional. It had taken a lot to persuade Rusty to go with the doctors, and Saul couldn't blame him. But it was necessary, after all, and he promised that these doctors weren't like Mayhew, that they only wanted to help him, and he'd actually seen Rusty's fingernails digging into his palms. That had been the point where he'd been going to insist that he accompany Rusty in, no matter that he wasn't a parent or guardian or connected in any way at all. But then one of the social workers – Julia, she'd introduced herself as – had stepped forwards and promised Rusty that once the doctors had finished with him, he could get cleaned up and she'd find him some clothes, and Rusty had just gone along quietly at that point. Saul wasn't exactly sure why. But apparently he wasn't needed, and that was the main thing.
Of course, convincing Danny that he couldn't go with Rusty was even more difficult. Julia was sitting beside him now trying to engage him in conversation. Not an official statement, they'd agreed to wait until one of his parents was there but just some kind of casual chat to keep him occupied while Saul was taken off to give his official statement.
Judging by the expression on his face, Danny's opinion was that Julia was an idiot, but that couldn't be helped right now. She wouldn't be enough to keep Danny from going after Rusty, but he thought that the look Rusty had given him might be. Seemed like a warning to wait outside, and he thought the upshot of that silent conversation was that Danny would respect Rusty's wishes for as long as he could.
In the meantime, Saul got to talk to the police. Not exactly a situation he was normally comfortable with. This time he was entirely truthful, the small matter of his name and occupation aside. They weren't interested in who he was just what he'd seen, and he felt sick as he relived it, offering every last detail, whatever they needed to keep Rusty safe and make sure Mayhew paid.
"Thank you, Mr Bergman," the cop said politely once he'd finished. "One thing. You've given us a local address, but you said you were from out of town – do you have a permanent address?"
He didn't even hesitate before he gave them his own real address, not the fake details he had for Bergman. This was too important to just walk away from, not knowing if the police might need him to testify or whatever. This wasn't some con he could just walk away from and never think of it again. This was...he was involved in this. Him, not Aaron Bergman. This was going to leave a mark on him.
"Thank you, Mr Bergman," the cop said again. "We'll be in touch."
He stood, knowing a dismissal when he heard it. But he paused, frowning at the cop. "The child...Rusty Ryan...what's going to happen to him do you think?"
"Mmm?" the cop looked up. "I don't know...they'll find a new placement for him I guess. Or maybe there'll be someone who can take him. He'll be just fine, don't worry for a second. We got some fine social workers here."
"Who sent him there in the first place," Saul commented with no particular tone.
The cop looked at him awkwardly and shrugged.
"Thank you for your time," Saul said quietly as he left.
This wasn't good enough. He couldn't just walk away and let Rusty get sent wherever, not even knowing if it was going to be any better than what he'd saved him from. No, somehow, he was going to have to meet whoever was going to take Rusty in and decide whether or not they were good enough.
Even at that thought, he felt uneasy and he couldn't quite explain why. At some point he was going to have to walk away from them. He was simply passing through their lives.
At the exact moment that he stepped back into the corridor, he heard a crash and a woman's scream from the direction they'd taken Rusty in. He was running immediately, registering as he passed that there was no sign of Danny, and he barrelled through the door and found himself in another, shorter corridor with a couple of offices, a restroom and two consulting rooms. There was the sound of raised voices coming from the first one, and without even thinking about it he burst in.
Two doctors, a nurse and Mrs Warren the social worker were standing around a bed, looking down at something on the floor. Someone. Rusty.
He was lying next to the bed, naked again, Saul's coat twisted beneath him, as if he'd been reaching for it. A small tray of medical instruments lay scattered around him on the floor. That explained the crash at least.
"What's going on?" Saul demanded.
"Never mind that, who are you?" demanded one of the doctors.
"That's Mr Bergman," Mrs Warren said helpfully. "He was with the boy earlier. He might be able to calm him."
Saul doubted it, but he was more than willing to try.
"He bit me!" the nurse interjected, outraged. "Look!"
Saul didn't bother looking. Instead he grabbed a gown from the shelf beside the bed and carefully – gently – dropped it over Rusty's shoulders. "There you go," he said, arranging it to cover Rusty as best he could without actually touching the child. He frowned at the lack of reaction to his proximity – every other time he'd got closer than a few feet, Rusty had tensed up and flinched away, waiting and trembling.
He looked more closely. Rusty's eyes were dull and vacant and his pupils were uneven pinpricks.
"You drugged him?" he demanded incredulously.
"Well, yes," the doctor said, as if it was obvious. "He objected to the internal examination. He wouldn't stop fighting us so we had to sedate him."
"It's a fast acting sedative," the other doctor said impatiently. "There are no major side effects and it should wear off within half an hour or so. We've checked his medical records; he's prescribed it."
Prescribed it. From everything Danny had told him, there had been nothing wrong with Rusty before he got sent to that place. "And who did the prescribing?" he asked very, very softly.
The first doctor paled and picked up the chart and flicked through it. "Dr Mayhew," he admitted.
"Yes," Saul agreed in a dangerous whisper, advancing on them. "I wonder just why a man like that would want to use a fast-acting sedative on a little boy, mmm?"
"Now, look here," the second doctor started angrily. "Whatever he's accused of, Dr Mayhew is a respected child psychiatrist. His diagnosis and prescriptions are not under question yet."
"Perhaps they should be," Saul suggested, turning back to crouch in front of Rusty. "Rusty?" he asked gently. "Do you think you can stand?"
No real response, but sluggishly Rusty got to his knees and then painfully to his feet, swaying drunkenly where he stood.
Saul bit his tongue on the suggestion that Rusty come back to the bed and lie down. Whatever was going on in Rusty's head, that would be far too easy for him to misinterpret. "Why don't you come sit down here for a bit," he said instead, indicating a chair in the corner of the room, away from the door and away from the doctors.
Rusty stumbled over obediently and sank down onto it, his legs twisted beneath him, his eyes closing drowsily.
Saul gazed at him worriedly. He didn't like seeing him like that. He should have insisted on staying with him. Rusty deserved better than this.
"Are you finished?" he asked the doctors, suddenly exhausted, and he didn't want to put Rusty through any more today.
"For today," the first doctor nodded. "He'll need follow up care."
Saul nodded. "And?" he said, creating an air of expectation as best he could.
The doctor walked right into it, talking to him and Mrs Warren as if he was making some kind of a report. "He has a great deal of bruising in various stages of healing, most of it indicative of prolonged physical abuse. This is supported by a series of welts across his back, arms and legs that suggest he has been whipped at least once recently. Additionally, he has four cracked ribs and signs of a minor concussion."
The calm catalogue of injuries made Saul feel sick inside. He couldn't stop imagining the hellish existence Rusty had been suffering.
"Three fingers on his right hand have been broken within the last eight weeks or so," the doctor went on. "There's no sign of any treatment. Unfortunately they've healed on their own, and they will have to be broken and reset."
Saul turned, looking at Rusty who was listing on the chair, watching the room with drowsy, frightened incomprehension. He could see the deformity in Rusty's hand now, the fingers twisted and curled against themselves. It looked impossibly painful. He imagined Rusty sitting alone and in pain, long enough for bones to set, and God, he longed to commit murder.
"To add to that," the second doctor cut in. "The patient appears to be severely underweight for his age and height, and does appear malnourished, though whether this is due to neglect or him refusing food owing to his illness is unclear. At any rate, it's likely he's suffering from various vitamin deficiencies as well, particularly vitamin C and D, judging by the examination of his teeth and gums. There's also some bruising and abrasions to the throat, but nothing that would explain the patient's mutism."
Mrs Warren was making notes grimly. "Is there evidence of sexual abuse?"
Saul didn't think that they needed evidence of that. He'd seen it for himself.
"Yes," the first doctor cut in, referring to his notes again. "The patient's genitals are severely bruised, and there is evidence of serious and prolonged anal trauma."
Clinical words to paint an awful picture. Rusty was staring at the floor, his hands gripping the edges of his chair desperately, and Saul had the sudden urge to take the child in his arms and promise to protect him.
"Is he fit enough to move?" Mrs Warren asked, now looking at notes of her own.
"Yes, that shouldn't be a problem," the second doctor confirmed. "He'll need food and rest and his stitches will need to be removed in a week or so, but I can see no reason why he can't be transferred tonight."
"Transferred where?" Saul asked sharply.
"The residents from the Institute will be moved to similar facilities around the state," Mrs Warren explained. "There's a place waiting for Robert in the Hibbert Unit, it's a secure adolescent unit around two hundred miles south of here. He'll receive the care he needs there."
Saul turned, and for the very first time, Rusty raised his head and looked him directly in the eyes, and Saul saw despair and agony and exhaustion beyond endurance, and a raw, desperate, hopeless plea.
Another institution. And even if there was no Dr Mayhew there, even if there was no abuse, was that really what was best for the child? Gloom and greyness, rigid rules and conformity. Locked away from normal life, locked away from Danny...it wasn't right. He couldn't see how Rusty could hope to heal that way.
And still there was that look in his eyes, wretched and bleak and lost, and he knew that Rusty never expected to heal.
He deserved a chance. He deserved so much more than a chance.
"I'll take him," Saul said out loud, and he hardly recognised his own voice. "Let me take him."
Mrs Warren blinked and looked at him doubtfully. "What? You?" she asked incredulously.
"Why not?" he said simply. "You said yourself that I was able to calm him."
"He needs treatment and - " the second doctor began.
Saul interrupted. " - yes, and wouldn't it be better for him to stay nearby so he can carry on getting treated here?" he asked. "Rather than be seen by completely different doctors a few hundred miles away?"
"Perhaps," the doctor admitted stiffly. "However, his mental state must be taken into consideration. His refusal to speak could be hiding a number of issues, and from what I've observed, he appears to be extremely withdrawn and his emotional affect appears severely blunted."
Mrs Warren was nodding. Saul gritted his teeth. "In English, please," he requested.
"He isn't reacting the way a child should," she explained. "He hasn't cried once that I've seen, and generally he's shown very few signs of distress, even when he has to be in pain. To be honest, I'm not sure how much he's really aware of what's happened to him."
Saul thought about the look in Rusty's eyes and swallowed hard. "He's aware," he said shortly. "Trust me."
"Yes, well. He has also exhibited some fairly bizarre behaviours," the doctor pressed on.
Staring, Saul found himself asking "What exactly would normal behaviour be in the circumstances?"
"He struggled and fought during the examination, and earlier while we were discussing the photographs, he ran naked out into the corridor, entered the restroom and drank straight from the tap," Mrs Warren said grimly, like it was proof of some major crime.
"Had you offered him anything to drink?" he asked with a wince of guilt, because he hadn't either and he should've thought.
"Well, no," the doctor faltered.
Silently, Saul picked up a cup from the edge of the sink , rinsed it out and filled it with cold clear water. Had to be better than the men's room tap. He held it out towards Rusty. "Still thirsty?" he asked quietly.
Rusty gazed dizzily at the cup, his head still lolling slightly. His hand twitched fractionally, as if he wanted to reach out but didn't quite dare.
Saul figured that was as close to a yes as he was going to get, and he crouched beside Rusty and steadied the cup so he could drink. As he did so, he noticed that Rusty seemed slightly more alert. The sedative must be wearing off and that was something at least.
"Better?" he murmured, and without looking at him, Rusty nodded ever so slightly.
The first doctor was watching them thoughtfully. "You know maybe he should take the lad home?" he said abruptly.
"Yes," Saul agreed quietly. "You have lots of children to get settled. Why not make things easier on yourself? I can look after him."
Everyone started talking at once.
A/N: Hope you're enjoying, please review.