A/N: Some of this chapter is retreading ground of the last chapter. But in this case, I feel the different perspective makes it worth it. And if you disagree...tell me why. :)
Rusty followed Mrs Warren through the door meekly, his head ducked low, his teeth tearing through his lip. The door closed behind them with a bang and he managed to suppress the flinch, ruthlessly digging his fingers into the back of his hand, and the pain focused him at least a little. No way he was going to let them see he was scared. But still he found his eyes automatically flickering along the corridor, seeking out escape routes. There was nothing. No windows, no exit signs. Maybe the rooms would have windows, but he couldn't count on it. The only out of here was back the way he came. Not that he was going to run. He wasn't going to run. They'd promised that if he did what they wanted, they'd give him clothes and let him wash the filth off. And he didn't know if they'd keep their word, but it seemed worth trying at least.
"Just in here," Mrs Warren told him, speaking slowly and exaggeratedly, before she opened the door. There were two men and a woman waiting in there. The men were wearing white coats and looking at him expectantly. He could feel his legs trembling and he had to force himself to walk forwards instead of turning tail and running. He'd agreed to this. He'd agreed.
Least Danny hadn't followed him. He'd been afraid that Danny might, in spite of his pleas. Danny had seen enough of his humiliation. Seeing this would only hurt Danny. Hurt both of them.
"Hello there, young man," one of the doctors said with a cheerfulness that made Rusty shudder inside. Was like the way Lucas talked to him when they were playing one of Lucas' 'games'. He only hoped this man didn't want the same things. He'd be grateful, but he couldn't act like he enjoyed it, he just couldn't. "Now, the first thing we're going to do is take a few photos of you. So we just need you to take that coat off, okay?"
Stiffly, he tried to force his hands to obey, but he just found himself clinging tightly to Saul's coat.
"I know this is difficult, Robert, but it has to be done," Mrs Warren told him. "Please at least try."
He was trying. He was trying to be good, just like he'd tried earlier to be good for Dr Mayhew, but somehow he always seemed to disappoint.
Everyone was watching him. He willed himself to take the coat off, but somehow he couldn't.
The doctor nodded at the nurse and she stepped forwards and briskly stripped him, and his instinctive struggles to hold onto the coat were for nothing. There was blood all over the lining, he noted fearfully. He'd ruined it. (He ruined everything.)
He stood in front of them, naked and shivering, while one of the doctors fetched the camera.
Dr Mayhew liked to take his picture so he knew how this worked. He stood the way the told him to, bent and twisted at their command as they photographed every inch of his body. Even when they had him lie on his back and spread his legs wide, he didn't attempt to cover himself. He even managed to keep his face blank.
Inside his head he was screaming though. He hated this. He hated every second of this. They were looking at him, studying every inch of him, possessing him, and he felt like he might just shrivel up and die. Eyes on the prize, he reminded himself grimly. Clothes and clean. He was gonna have to do more than pose a little before he deserved them, no matter how obedient he was. This was just the start. And Saul had promised they wouldn't hurt him.
They finished taking the pictures and he surreptitiously rolled onto his side. Lying on his back hurt too much, especially after he'd had to sit in the car all that time; he wanted to try and ease some of the pressure on his bottom.
They were talking about him and he hated it. He wished he could just disappear. And he heard one of them talking about rape. Simply the word sent a wash of panic down his spine. That wasn't what happened, but if they thought that was what he was accusing Dr Mayhew of...he could understand why everyone was so angry.
Rape was when a man had sex with a woman after she said no, and that wasn't true here. He wouldn't have dared say 'no' even if he could have. And yes, he'd sat through the awkward classes in school when Mrs May carefully avoided eye contact and told them never to let anyone touch them in their bathing suit areas, and he'd understood what she carefully wasn't saying...but that wasn't real. It was just more of the lies that adults told to kids to make the world nicer – like Santa Claus. Reality was lying in a dark cell, in your own filth, and being told there was only one way you could have worth. That you were simply there to be used. It wasn't rape if it was meant to happen. It wasn't rape if you had no choice.
His mouth was dry and he could still taste the salt and slime he'd swallowed. He wanted the taste out of his mouth. He wanted the taste gone and he wanted the thirst gone. He looked round the room – there was a sink with cups in the far corner, but the doctors were standing in front of it. No way he'd be able to get there without them noticing him.
Problem was, he wasn't sure whether water – for drinking – was something he should be grateful for or not. No one had ever specifically said, but when he'd been lying on the floor of his cell, his throat so dry he thought it might be bleeding, he really had been grateful when Dr Mayhew had brought him water. Even when he'd poured it straight onto the floor in front of him, Rusty had still been thankful for it. Dr Mayhew didn't have to give him anything after all. He could very easily have left Rusty there to rot. But he hadn't put a price on drinking water the way he had on food and maybe that meant it was okay. But still he didn't want to risk it.
There'd been a restroom across the corridor. Mind made up, he quickly slipped off the bed and hobbled as fast as he could. No one noticed until he'd reached the door.
"Hey!" the nurse shouted sharply.
He cringed and flung the door open and practically threw himself across the corridor, falling into the restroom and grabbing for the nearest sink. They were coming after him, he could hear them. He put his mouth to the tap, turned it on and drank from it desperately.
The water was warm and tasted vaguely bitter, but it eased the harsh pain in his throat, and he was confident if he could just drink enough, the taste Dr Mayhew left behind would wash away too.
"That's enough," at the doctor said with authority from behind him.
Except he was wrong and it wasn't enough and he kept on sucking frantically even after the water stopped and it was just dripping. He didn't stop until they grabbed him and hauled him away, taking him back into the consulting room.
"It isn't appropriate to wander around naked," Mrs Warren told him in a slow disapproving tone.
Ashamed, he looked down and awkwardly tried to cover himself with his hands. He didn't want to be naked, but they'd taken Saul's coat and he'd been thirsty and right at that moment, that had seemed more important than his shame. But now they were all looking at him again, and he was dirty and worthless, and he longed to run and hide, to find some deep hole to hide in where he'd never be found again. He wanted to go back to the restroom and instead of wasting time drinking the water, to scrub and scrub until bit by bit he was washed away to nothing.
"Alright, young man, now we've taken photos it's time for your examination and treatment. Jump up onto the bed again," the doctor instructed.
He did as he was told, lying still, his hand tightened around the metal edge of the bed. They started touching him, cleaning him, pouring stuff over his injuries that stung and left him gasping for breath. Every touch made him feel sick, fighting not to struggle and squirm away.
Their hands were all over him and the terror was hammering at the inside of his chest. He wanted this to stop. He wanted all of this to stop. He almost wished he was back in the basement because at least there he knew what to expect. Here, there were no certainties, and he watched fearfully as they examined the punishment marks that covered him. They spent an especially long time looking at the welts on his back, rubbing them with some kind of cream that burned him. Saul had promised they weren't going to hurt him. This hurt, and he tried to get away, tried to push them away, but they just held him down and moved on to examining his hand, bending each finger in turn and that hurt too.
He tried to catch his breath, tried to calm down even a little, but his heart was racing and he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. If they figured out what had happened, they'd know how awful he was. That had been when he'd tried to escape. He'd been at the front door, his hand outstretched, and Stuart had grabbed him and hauled him back, and James slammed the door shut. He fell to the ground, huddled and shaking, his hand cradled against his chest. They told him how bad he'd been and James had opened the door again and Stuart had laid Rusty's hand over the threshold and they'd both laughed as the door crashed shut again. His hand had been trailing blood when they'd both dragged him down to the Quiet Room.
Hadn't he been punished enough? Couldn't they just leave him alone? Why wouldn't they just leave him alone.
"Alright," the doctor said presently. "Roll over onto your hands and knees, please."
No! He took a deep breath, struggling to comply. He'd expected this. This wasn't anything bad. They were going to use him, but Saul had promised they wouldn't hurt him so it wouldn't be anything too rough. He just had to put up with it, that was all. He was already cleaner than he had been, and they said they'd find him clothes, so he just had to be good and grateful and do what he was told.
Except he couldn't. His breathing was fast and jerky and he was shaking uncontrollably and he couldn't do what they wanted, he just couldn't.
Hands reached out as if to roll him over, and he struck out blindly. He didn't want this. He didn't want this. He didn't...
There was a cry of surprise and the hands were pressing on his chest, gripping his arms, pinning him down, and after a second of struggling he was unceremoniously flipped onto his stomach. He should just lie still and let them use him. That was what he was supposed to do. He was trying to show them that he was good now, that he deserved to be sent back to Dad.
The sound of a bottle popping behind him and he gasped as something cold dripped down into his crack. Lube, he assumed dully. They were going to use lube, and that should be a relief, should be something else he was expecting, because Saul had promised they wouldn't hurt him. Except at the first touch of fingers rubbing it in he lost it, panicked and struggling, kicking out desperately, and if he had a voice he would have been pleading with them.
He heard them talking behind him. Shouting – at him? He couldn't tell. All that mattered was getting away. Then he felt something stabbing into his bottom, and a second later all his strength – everything – faded away.
He'd been sedated before. He knew what it felt like. He knew he couldn't fight against it, and he was barely aware as his knees were forced up so he was crouched on the bed with his bottom sticking up in the air. Still he tried to get away, but his limbs were impossibly heavy and moving was unthinkable. In the end, he couldn't even keep his eyes open.
Helplessly he lay there as they got started. Whatever they gave him numbed him somewhat, but he still felt himself being spread and stretched, and just because he couldn't feel the pain didn't mean he couldn't feel the fingers moving inside him.
Jut like always there was no escape. Not really. He was a fool to believe there ever could be. But the drugs left a cotton wool buzzing feeling in his head, and if he concentrated on that, he could try and ignore it as he felt something much larger being forced up inside him, stretching him impossibly wide. Try as he might, his memory supplied the rest of the details to come, the thrusting, the grunting the rhythmic slapping of flesh. The drugs offered a plateau of nothingness, and he floated there gratefully, only the occasional stabbing pain intruding.
Eventually, vaguely, he became aware that they'd stopped for the moment and the nurse was cleaning up the stickiness from him. That really was very nice of her, and he felt a burst of gratitude. Normally he had to clean himself up as best he could.
But she was still touching him, and that still made him feel sick and it was oh, so much better when she finally stopped and he was left alone.
With an effort, he managed to half roll, half fall onto his side, his legs drawn up close to his chest, his arms wrapped tight around him. Contained. Hidden. Less vulnerable, at least a little.
He felt even dirtier than he had before. Clothes. He wanted clothes. They'd said he could have clothes, if he was good. He raised his head vaguely and saw Saul's coat lying on the chair.
(Saul had promised they wouldn't hurt him. And they hadn't, not really. So why did he feel betrayed?)
But he reached out, trying to get to the coat, and just as he grasped it, somehow he found himself falling, knocking over the table by the bed just before he hit the floor. He lay stunned for a moment, the coat beneath his hands, and as he blinked, the nurse was suddenly crouching over him, too close and touching him.
"Let's get you back to bed," she said from a long way away, her voice echoing around his head.
No! He didn't...he couldn't go through it again. Not so soon. Please not so soon. He twisted around, shuddering as her hand brushed over his face, and he wanted her to stop, he needed her to stop and before he'd even thought about it, he was sinking his teeth into her hand as hard as he could.
He winced as she screamed. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He shouldn't have done that. He was really going to be in trouble now.
It seemed like he drifted off, or something, because then somehow Saul was there, covering him with a hospital gown. Made him feel warmer than it should Almost...safe. And that had to be the drugs.
Saul was talking to the doctors now, and try as he might, Rusty couldn't focus enough to understand. Maybe they were telling Saul how bad his behaviour had been. He wasn't sure, but when Saul came back over and asked him to move over to the chair, he obeyed as fast as he could, despite the way his legs felt like jelly.
For a while he had to concentrate just on taking his next breath, grasping tight to the chair and struggling to stay awake. Gradually he became aware that they were talking about him. Deciding what to do with him. Another institute. They were gonna lock him up someplace worse and throw away the key. He was never going to be free again. Never going to see Danny again. He wanted...he just wanted...he didn't know, but he looked up at Saul helplessly, pleading for something he couldn't even give words to.
Saul stared at him for a long moment, and Rusty didn't understand the look in his eyes.
"I'll take him," Saul said at last. "Let me take him."
He stared dumbly as Saul argued with the doctors. Saul wanted to take him? Why? He didn't understand. Would that even be any better than the Institute? Saul hadn't hurt him so far, he supposed, but he remembered the fury he'd attacked Dr Mayhew with, and it was all too easy to imagine that anger turned on him, soon as he fucked up. Only a matter of time. And that was twice now Saul had given him clothes to hide in, but Saul had also given him to the doctors to use. On the other hand, he had told them not to hurt him and they hadn't.
He didn't know. But then, it wasn't like he'd get a choice anyway.
He was even more confused when Saul offered him a mug of water. It was cool and cleared his head some, and he waited for the catch, convinced that somehow this must be a trick; that he'd have to pay for the kindness later.
But instead Saul smiled at him. No one had ever smiled at Rusty quite like that before and it terrified him.
In a dream he watched as Saul opened the door fractionally and returned with a pile of clothes which he lay on the bed. "Will you be alright getting dressed yourself?" he asked Rusty and Rusty could only stare dimly before standing and touching the clothes lightly.
Wonderingly, he watched as Saul drew the curtains around the bed space, giving him privacy as though he somehow deserved it.
Uncertainly, he examined the clothes. A pair of jeans, a red button down shirt, a pair of blue sneakers...underwear. They weren't new but they were nice. Nicer than most of the clothes he'd owned in his life. He bit his lip, unsure and suspicious. Were they really for him? He definitely hadn't done anything to earn them.
But if he refused then he'd make Saul mad and he'd still be naked besides...
Trembling, he dressed as fast as he could and every little movement hurt, and the clothes rasped painfully over his injuries. Fortunately the shirt and jeans were both too big for him, hanging loosely. The fingers he'd broken didn't work properly anymore and that made buttoning the shirt difficult and time consuming, but it made tying his shoelaces impossible. He bit his tongue in frustration, and after his sixth attempt he decided to give up. He didn't want to keep anyone waiting – they might get angry.
He pulled the curtain back and stepped out, eyes darting round the room quickly. Saul was still there, and Mrs Warren and one of the doctors. Everyone else had gone.
"Are the clothes okay?" Saul asked, looking him over keenly.
Rusty tried not to stare. Just the question... He managed to duck his head quickly in an approximation of a nod.
"Good," said Saul. "They're a little big on you. We'll find you something better as soon as we can."
Something better. The dread and unease increased tenfold. He couldn't even imagine what he'd have to do to pay back something like that.
"Oh..." Saul went on, looking at Rusty's shoelaces, and he felt himself start to flush. Then Saul glanced quickly at his hand. "I'm sorry. I should have thought."
To Rusty's astonishment, Saul knelt on the ground in front of him and deftly tied his laces for him.
"There," Saul said softly. "All done." He didn't stand, looking up at Rusty, looking him straight in the eyes and somehow Rusty couldn't bring himself to look away. "I'm going to be looking after you now, Rusty," he began.
"Only for a few days," Mrs Warren interrupted disapprovingly. "It's just an emergency temporary placement. So don't get too settled."
Saul rolled his eyes and immediately looked guilty and Rusty actually felt the tiniest stirring of amusement.
"For a few days to start with," Saul agreed. "I hope that's okay. I promise I'll take care of you properly. I'll never hurt you."
Now he looked away, uncertain of what Saul expected. This was all too much and he was so very tired.
Saul sighed and stood up. "Alright. For the moment, let's go find Danny, huh?"
Danny couldn't sit still. Rusty had walked away and he knew that Rusty had been scared, and Danny hadn't been able to reassure him. Mostly because he couldn't say it was going to be okay. He didn't care for the way the social workers were looking at Rusty. He'd seen too many people looking at Rusty like that. A look of pity that never seemed to lead to anything. He thought that maybe they were going to take Rusty away again. Certainly he didn't want Rusty to go back to his parents, but he hadn't exactly heard anyone offering any alternatives.
And right now – right now – Rusty was hurting worse than Danny had ever seen before. And when he thought of what had been done to Rusty...God. He wanted to hold onto Rusty and never let go. He shouldn't have left Rusty on his own, but that look that Rusty had given him had been clear enough. Rusty didn't want him anywhere close right now, and there'd been a threat in Rusty's eyes, that if Danny tried to follow he wouldn't go anywhere at all. And Rusty needed to see a doctor. God help him, he'd seen the bruises, and the blood caked on Rusty's thighs.
Wasn't something he'd ever had to think about before, but he could imagine how Rusty had been torn up inside. In his head, he saw it again. Rusty struggling beneath that man. Saw the absolute terror and confusion and disgust he'd seen in Rusty's eyes.
He rubbed his eyes fiercely, pressing back the tears. Crying wouldn't help Rusty. Danny had to stay strong for him.
"Are you alright?" Julia asked solicitously. "You know, it's okay for you to be upset by what you've seen today. You've been through a lot." She laid a hand on his shoulder gently, almost the same way Saul had.
"Rusty's the one who's been through a lot," he said shortly. "I'm fine."
"But he's your friend," she said, dropping her voice to a near whisper. "Isn't he? And you shouldn't have had to see him like that."
What he'd seen? What he'd seen was only the smallest fraction of what Rusty had lived. And nothing in his life had ever hurt him more, but that really wasn't the point.
Rusty was his friend. The very best friend he'd ever have. And he wasn't going to let them treat him like a child and cut him out of the loop.
But Julia had been nice enough so far. While he'd been sitting waiting, swinging his feet and going out of his head, she'd suggested he come up to the children's ward with her and pick out some clothes for Rusty. He didn't know if this was lost property or stuff that had been donated or what, but there wasn't much of a selection. Still he went through it all carefully, picking out everything that looked close to the right size and finding the things Rusty would like best. And she'd even taken him to the canteen after.
"I'm doing alright," he told her, fixing her with a look that was both calm and reassuring. "I just want to be able to look after Rusty."
"That might not be possible you know," she warned him anxiously. "We don't know what's going to happen with him."
"But he's going to need friends," Danny said, regarding her evenly. "He needs me." Rusty did need him. He took a deep breath. "What do you think is going to happen to him?"
She looked away from him quickly. Shiftily, even. "I don't know. But he'll be taken care of, I promise."
He gritted his teeth. "Your friends have been telling me every day for the past five months that he's being taken care of." She shifted guiltily. "And all that time he was being raped. You saw him. You saw what your people's care did. Rusty's...he's smart, he's funny, he's brave and tough as hell, and he's the best friend I can imagine. He doesn't deserve any of this."
The door opened fractionally and she glanced over to it relieved, before walking over with the clothes and holding a brief, murmured conversation in the doorway.
She came back and sat down beside him again a few moments later. "Your friend will be out in a little while," she said comfortingly. "He's just getting dressed now." She hesitated. "Apparently Mr Bergman is taking him home for a few days. That's good, isn't it?"
Saul was going to take Rusty? Danny didn't know if that was good or not. Had to be better than a lot of alternatives, he supposed, but Rusty didn't trust Saul and Danny had only met him today. Yes, he liked Saul, but it seemed like Saul put a lot of effort into making sure everyone liked him, so maybe he couldn't rely on that. Rusty had asked him what Saul wanted, and he didn't have an answer. All he knew was that Saul was good at lying to people and Rusty had been hurt too much already.
He stared at the door, willing it to open, and when it finally did, he only had eyes for Rusty. Rusty had been cleaned up and he was wearing the clothes Danny had picked up, but his head was ducked low, hiding his eyes, and if anything he looked more exhausted and beaten down than he had before.
Danny was in his feet immediately, running across to Rusty, reaching out to take his hand. Rusty stepped back (fearfully), and Danny stopped dead. "Sorry, Rus'," he said quietly. He could see the bitter exhaustion on Rusty's face and he longed to reach out and take Rusty into his arms the way he had five months ago.
"I got some food," he offered softly, gesturing back to the chairs where the stuff he'd got from the canteen was waiting. "Selection was a bit limited, but I got some fries, chocolate pudding and a bag of chips. I thought you'd be hungry." Rusty looked hungry. He looked starved, and certainly his eyes lit up at the mention of food, and he looked longingly over towards the polystyrene box of fries, but his eyes flickered back to Danny's, asking an urgent question.
Danny frowned, watching Rusty's face carefully, trying to understand. "I used my own money," he said slowly and by the flash of relief he'd answered the right question. But he didn't understand why it was important.
Still, he guided Rusty over to the chairs and hovered over him anxiously as Rusty clambered awkwardly onto the chair, sitting down with his legs curled under him like he was trying to avoid everywhere that hurt. But Danny could see the pain Rusty was trying to hide and he didn't think that there was any escape from it.
"Here," he said simply, passing Rusty the fries. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Saul giving him a smile of approval and he felt again that confusing surge of pride. Like Saul's opinion mattered, and after all, he wasn't even sure how far he trusted Saul.
Wasn't important right now. Rusty got all his attention and Rusty was looking around the adults uncertainly like...like he was looking for permission to eat.
The shirt sleeve had rode up Rusty's arms. Danny thought that he might be able to hold both of Rusty's wrists with one hand and still have room to spare. His heart ached. "I got you the food," he reminded Rusty softly. "You can eat it. Please."
Rusty looked up at him quickly, and only Danny would see the apology and the thanks, and they weren't what he wanted. But then, at least Rusty was eating, watching the adults all the time as though he expected the food to be taken away at an moment. But the doctor had drawn Julia and Mrs Warren and a reluctant-looking Saul away into conversation, and seizing the chance, Rust started eating faster.
With a pang, Danny was reminded of the very first day they'd met. Sharing his lunch. The desperate and the suspicious, like the food might be some kind of a trick.
"Don't eat too fast," he warned gently. "You'll make ourself sick."
Rusty nodded and slowed fractionally, but Danny could feel his hunger.
"When did you last eat?" he asked before he could stop himself, an edge to his voice.
There was a flash of shame in Rusty's eyes and then his expression shut down and he shrugged indifferently and continued eating. He looked up a few moments later, his eyes seeking Danny's and there was another plea there.
Danny swallowed hard. No questions. Act normally. Talk like there was nothing wrong.
That might just be the hardest thing Rusty had ever asked of him, but Rusty had asked it.
He took a deep breath. "Had a math test last week and Jimmy and Buzz spent the whole time trying to cheat off each other. I swear, I don't think either of them actually tried to answer any of the questions. Got to the stage I was thinking about passing them my paper just to get them off the hook before Mr Carr noticed." The story was weak, just the first bit of gossip that had popped into his head, but Rusty listened to him intently, as hungry for even this touch of normalcy as he was for food.
Despite the pained lump in his throat, Danny kept on talking, going over silly little things that had happened in school, or stuff he'd seen on TV. Anything that might amuse Rusty, and he tried not to think about how obscene it was to be sitting here talking about things that didn't matter when Rusty was...had been... He bit his tongue hard and kept talking. Whatever Rusty needed. Always.
Rusty managed to finish half the fries and the pudding, and he sat next to Danny, looking as if he might fall asleep at any moment.
Danny wasn't exactly sure what was supposed to happen next. It was getting late. He sighed, remembering something. "Here," he said, pulling a Snickers bar out of his pocket and passing it over. He felt sort of stupid. He wasn't even sure if Rusty would understand the gesture. Hell, he wasn't even clear on exactly what he was trying to say.
Rusty looked at the candy bar for a long moment.
"I'm sorry," Danny said in a whisper. "I should've found you sooner. I should've tried harder." The apology was inadequate. Nothing could make this right. He'd let Rusty be taken away from him to the worst hell imaginable.
Rusty raised his head quickly, looking Danny straight in the eyes and Danny was caught by the fierce neverblame, the unwavering faith and the absolute certainty that Rusty cared about him every bit as much as he cared about Rusty.
He could feel himself shaking. "Rus'..."
Without looking away from him, Rusty carefully broke the chocolate in two and pressed half into Danny's hand.
Danny felt like he might just start crying.
He didn't speak. There was nothing left to say. They sat together and ate their chocolate and he tried to offer Rusty all the silent comfort he had inside him.
They'd just finished when Mom swept in.
Her brow was dark and she was already scowling when she saw him, and when she saw Rusty... He automatically leaned forwards, trying to shield Rusty from that expression, but he was aware of the terror and tension beside him as Mom stared openly. Bitterly he wondered if the sight of the injuries and the weight-loss made her feel guilty. She didn't even know the worst of it, and he prayed she never would.
At last, she averted her eyes, and there was at least a tinge of shock in her face.
"Daniel!" she snapped, turning her face away like she was pretending that Rusty didn't exist. "What have you been doing? What is all this? I don't appreciate being dragged out here. I've warned you, I'm losing patience with you."
He knew how much his searching for Rusty had angered Mom over the past months. And now he'd found Rusty...from Mom's point of view, he didn't imagine that made the situation any better.
"I haven't done anything wrong," he said quietly. "The cops want to talk to me about what I saw and they need a parent here. That's all."
"That's all?" she echoed with furious incredulity. "The police want to talk to you? I've warned you about the company you keep, Daniel. If you think I want you - "
" - Mrs Ocean, I presume," Saul cut in smoothly. "I'm Saul Bergman, we spoke earlier on the phone. I apologise for all the worry you've been caused, I assure you, no one saw any of this coming."
Mom turned to look at him, evidently caught off balance. "Yes, well...I'm still not sure what's been going on here."
"Thanks to your son, we've uncovered evidence of a horrific crime," Saul explained. He glanced briefly down at Danny. "He's a real credit to you. Intelligent and brave and loyal. You should be very proud of him."
She didn't look proud of him. But some of the anger had faded from her face and she seemed confused and uncertain, more than anything else. And she was looking at Saul and he could see her sizing him up, and his clothes, his voice his...charm...oh, Danny knew what impressed her. "Thank you," she said politely. "I'm sorry, I'm still not - "
" - you must be Danny's mother," a new voice cut in, and Danny turned to see Anderson walking in, a police officer walking a step behind. "Mayor Anderson, pleased to meet you."
Stunned, Mom shook the proffered hand.
"May I just say," Anderson went on," You have a very fine young man here. Very fine indeed. But I'm just here to check on our young patient." He smiled at Rusty, who didn't even look up at him. Danny thought he was busy pretending he didn't exist.
"It's very nice to meet you, sir," Mom said, automatically dropping into schmoozing mode. "I believe you know my brother, Harold Keller?"
"Oh, yes, of course," Anderson nodded immediately, and Danny would be perfectly willing to bet that he didn't remember Uncle Harold in the slightest.
"Now," Mom went on, her voice wandering between ingratiating and imperious. "Would someone be good enough to tell me what's going on here?"
"It seems one of our local children's homes was...abusing our trust and their charges," Anderson said slowly. "By chance, Danny here led us straight to it. He's to be commended."
Danny winced as Mom immediately turned to stare at Rusty. "I see," she said slowly. "And Daniel needs to give a statement now?"
"It can wait till the morning, ma'am," the police officer commented, stepping forwards. "Since it's so late. You can bring him to the station in the morning. Ask for Lieutenant Hodge."
That was good. Somewhere beneath anxiety and adrenaline, Danny had to admit, he was exhausted.
"Good," Mom nodded sharply. "Come along, Daniel. Let's go home."
Wait. No. "I need to stay with Rusty," he protested.
Mom made a huffy noise of exasperation. Rusty was looking at him fearfully.
Dully, he realised he wasn't going to win this argument. Mom was going to drag him home, away from Rusty, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.
Almost unwillingly, he looked at Rusty, his eyes full of helpless apologies, and Rusty's eyes were defeated and afraid.
With a sigh, Saul sat down beside him. "You should go with your mother, Danny. Don't worry. I'll look after Rusty, I promise."
"You'll look after the boy?" Mom blurted out.
"Yes," Saul said without looking at her. "I'm taking care of Rusty now."
Danny kept careful eye contact with Saul. He wished he was older. He wished he looked more threatening. "If you hurt him..." he warned Saul softly, and he didn't know exactly what he was threatening, he only knew that he meant it, and he heard Anderson snort and he knew how ridiculous he looked. A twelve year old threatening a grown man.
Somehow, for some reason, Saul took him seriously. "I never will," he promised gravely. He produced a business card and gave it to Danny. "This is my address and my number. Come round and see us tomorrow. With your mother's permission of course."
"First thing tomorrow," Danny stated. With or without Mom's permission.
Satisfied, he turned to Rusty, who was watching him with dulled eyes. "Rus'..." He reached out slowly, making sure that Rusty could see what he was doing, and he carefully wrapped his arms around Rusty. He could feel Rusty trembling, and Rusty pulled away from him almost immediately, but he still wanted Rusty to know he cared. "I'll see you tomorrow," he promised, and he swore he would, no matter what.
Saul couldn't remember being this tired before in his life And if he was exhausted he couldn't even begin to imagine how Rusty was feeling right now
The last few hours he'd argued harder than he ever had before He'd been persuasive and he'd been relentless and gradually he'd worn away all resistance. Him taking Rusty gave them one less thing to worry about in a night that was full of problems. When they'd left, those in charge had been preparing to examine and interview the rest of the children, and figure out which of the staff should be arrested. Everyone, if Saul got a say, but that wasn't what his focus was. Right now he'd agreed to provide a home for Rusty until Tuesday, when the circumstances would be reexamined. And the police would be looking to talk to Rusty soon, and he'd pointed out that Rusty didn't talk, but apparently there were specialists trained to deal with that. Of course, none of them were around until Monday morning, and until that point? Saul was on his own. Oh, he had numbers to call for emergencies, and he'd been instructed – ordered, really – to bring Rusty straight back to the hospital if he had any concerns about his physical health, but other than that, he'd been given some medication, a pair of pyjamas and a cushion, and left to hope for the best.
What mattered was making sure Rusty was safe and as comfortable as possible for as long as Saul had him. Once he was assured of that, he could start talking to the social workers about finding Rusty somewhere permanent.
He'd managed to organise a cab to take them back to his apartment, and he sat in the backseat and watched Rusty try not to nod off against the window, pinching the back of his hand surreptitiously when he thought Saul wouldn't notice. Bed first, he decided. He'd make sure Rusty got plenty of sleep and then tomorrow he'd try talking to him about...everything.
The apartment wasn't particularly homely he realised with a wince as he ushered Rusty inside. He'd selected it with impressing marks in mind, and it wasn't exactly child friendly. At least there was a spare room.
"Well, this is it," he told Rusty, sounding ridiculous to himself. "That's the kitchen just through there, the bathroom is here, that's my room and here is where you'll be sleeping." He opened the door and encouraged Rusty to take a step inside.
The room was fairly large, painted in shades of cream with a desk, a wardrobe and a single bed under the window. He eyed it unhappily. Not really a child's room. He'd need to do something about that. Maybe get a brighter bedspread, a few decorations...some toys at least. Things to make the room Rusty's.
Rusty barely glanced around, staring straight at the bed, his shoulders slumped. Evidently he wanted to get to bed as soon as possible. Saul was sympathetic.
"Do you want some food before bed?" he offered. "I could make you a sandwich, or I think there's a packet of cookies in the cupboard." Rusty shook his head quickly, and after all, he'd eaten the food that Danny had brought back not long ago. "How about something to drink?" he checked and again, Rusty shook his head. "Alright then," he said with a sigh. "That social worker, Julia, found some pyjamas for you." He laid them down carefully on the bed. "Get washed up and get ready for bed."
Rusty nodded jerkily, grabbed the pyjamas and quickly headed into the bathroom.
Yawning, Saul went and sat in the living room, waiting for him. A toothbrush. That was something else he'd need to get. Toothbrush, comb, shoes, clothes...it was going to be a long list. And he'd need to try and find out what Rusty liked too. What were his favourite colours, what foods did he like eating, what did he like to do? Even if Saul only had him for a few days, he was going to do his best to make him happy.
Some time passed before he heard the bathroom door open, and he wandered out into the hall to see Rusty hovering awkwardly in the bedroom door. "You okay?" he asked, frowning.
Rusty didn't respond, and alarmed, Saul stepped close and realised that Rusty was trembling. "Hey," he said, stepping into Rusty's line of vision, and he could see the shudder of effort as Rusty fought not to step back. "What's wrong?"
There was no answer. Naturally. But Saul was beginning to see a difference between the times when Rusty wanted to answer the question, and the times when Rusty shut down and tried to hide everything that was going on in his head. And right now, Rusty was hiding.
He sighed. "Why don't you lie down?" he suggested.
Slowly, Rusty crept over towards the bed and put his hand on the cover, leaning over and looking back over his shoulder.
Saul's breath caught in his throat. The look in Rusty's eyes.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, with soft, horrified insistence. "I'm never going to hurt you, you understand, Rusty?"
Rusty nodded ever so slightly, but he flinched as Saul walked over to him and drew back the covers. "Lie down," he advised Rusty gently.
After a second's hesitation, Rusty lay down on his stomach. Saul carefully pulled the blanket over him, tucking it around his shoulders.
"Get some sleep," he said. "You're safe now. I know today has been awful...more than just today," he added quickly. "But try and get some sleep and come get me if you need anything or if you have a nightmare..." He took a deep breath and laid his hand lightly on Rusty's shoulder, through the blanket, hoping it was reassuring. "Whatever you need," he promised. "Goodnight, Rusty."
He walked out of the room quietly, turning off the light and closing the door behind him, trying to give Rusty a little space.
For a long time he stood in the hallway. There wasn't the slightest sound from the bedroom. He hoped that Rusty had dropped off to sleep right away.
Eventually, exhausted, he headed to bed.
He lay awake for a long time, unable to stop thinking about everything he'd seen today. God, how could anyone... His fists were clenched tightly and it was with an effort that he forced himself to calm down.
He was listening for the smallest sound, the tiniest hint that he was needed. There was nothing and he didn't know if he should be relieved or disappointed. Truthfully, he didn't know what he was doing here. Earlier, the decision had seemed easy. In fact, it hadn't seemed like a decision at all, simply an inevitable response to that desperate, heartpiercing need. Now...now he was all too aware of exactly how out of his depth he really was.
Eventually, when he couldn't bear it any longer, he got out of bed and tiptoed through into the hall. To his alarm, the other bedroom door was slightly ajar. His heart in his mouth, he pushed it open.
The bed was neatly made, the pyjamas folded on the pillow. The room was empty. Rusty was gone.
Damn. He was a fool.
A/N: And that would be a cliffhanger, yes? How are you enjoying the story so far?