A/N: Nine chapters and we've covered almost two days. In case you haven't figured by now, yes, this is a slow moving story.

Danny walked down the steps, carefully not looking back at the police station or up at Mom. He wasn't so sure he'd be able to keep control if he did. That had been harrowing. Oh, the cops had all been nice enough – they'd been gentle asking their questions, and they'd listened to him, but he'd had to relive all of it. Right from the night of blood and silence and werewolves, through the months of waiting, to Saul and the mayor taking him to the institute and finding Rusty. Saul had said the police would need to know as much as possible so he shared every detail, even the ones that had him howling inside. He managed to keep his voice steady – he was sure he did – so he didn't know why the cops insisted on giving him so many breaks.

Mom was sat beside him all the time, and he wished she wasn't. He didn't have to look at her to feel the disgust and the horror and the fervent desire to keep as far away from the whole situation as possible. She was angry with him, and darkly he wondered if she'd prefer it if he'd never found Rusty, if Rusty was still in that hellhole, out of sight and out of mind.

"Well, thank God that's over," Mom said loudly as they trudged towards the car. "Now that they have your statement, hopefully that will be an end to it."

He nodded. Sometimes he could see the attraction of silence.

"Are you alright, Daniel?" she asked, laying a hesitant hand on his shoulder.

He shrugged it off immediately. "I'm fine," he said shortly.

She took him at his word. And he wasfine like he kept saying, why would he be anything butfine, and still he wished she hadn't accepted it so easily.

"Can you drop me at Saul's?" he asked.

For a moment she didn't say anything. "I think perhaps we'd be better going straight home," she said at last. "We need to go and see your grandmother tonight - "

" - since when?" he interrupted. Mom never took him to see grandmother without Dad being there, and normally the visits were planned at least a week in advance.

"Don't interrupt, Daniel," she scolded. "We need to see your grandmother so you need to go home and get changed. And for pity's sake, don't you dare mention any of this to her. If she knew what you've been mixed up in..." She left the threat hanging.

"I need to see Rusty," he said quietly. "Please, Mom."

"You just saw him this morning," she pointed out. "Against my wishes. Do you really think anything's going to have happened to him? He's fine, he's in good hands. Where he should be."

"That's what you said five months ago," he pointed out softly. "I need to see him."

"You said he won't even talk to you," she said, pulling the car in to the side of the road. "What's the point?"

He winced but kept his voice steady. "He can still hear me," he said. "Mom, please."

She sighed. "I don't want you spending time with that boy," she warned. "He was bad enough already, but after this?" Her mouth twisted. "God knows what you might pick up."

With an effort, he swallowed back the unhelpful response. "Saul will be right there," he reminded her. "You liked Saul. And he thinks Rusty's okay."

That was a lie. Saul didn't think Rusty was anywhere close to okay. But there was two types of people in Mom's world those who were healthy prosperous and connected, and those who were dangerous and undesirable.

"That's Mr Bergman to you," Daniel," she told him absently. "And I would like to talk to him...alright. Just for a few minutes."

He smiled at her. "Thank you, Mom," he said with something almost approaching warmth.

Didn't seem as though anything had changed when they got there. Rusty was curled on the couch, the TV playing, and when Danny came in he looked up fearfully, an urgent question in his eyes.

"Are you alright? How did it go?"

He blinked, shaken for a second by the sound of the same anxiety in Saul's voice.

"It was fine," he said. "They just asked me questions, that's all."

Saul didn't look entirely convinced and Danny supposed that he had seen the same thing and maybe he had some idea how awful having to talk about it really was. But there was another fear in Rusty's eyes and he sat down beside him on the sofa, while Mom drew Saul away, talking in a low voice.

"No one hurt me," he told Rusty in a low voice. "I promise."

He bit his lip, reading the next question. "No one did...that...either," he said. "No one even tried."

Relieved, Rusty nodded slowly.

"Rus'..." he said softly. "When someone does that to you they are hurting you. And they know it. They don't have a right to touch you like that. No one does. I don't know what that bastard told you, but he was lying. When someone asks if you were hurt, they mean that too." He hesitated for a second but plunged on. "When Saul says he's not going to hurt you, he means he's not going to do that as well."

An almost sad shake of the head.

"You think I'm wrong?" Danny asked. "You think I'm naïve?"

Reluctantly, Rusty nodded.

"And anyone else could be lying," he said slowly.

Would be lying, Rusty's expression silently corrected him.

He bit his lip. He couldn't see how to convince Rusty that he was safe when he couldn't even figure out how to convince Rusty he'd been hurt. And he didn't know exactly what Rusty had been told, and even if Rusty was inclined to tell him, he couldn't.

Truth was all he could hope was that with time and patience, Rusty would be able to come to terms with what had happened. And the trouble with that was that time wasn't on their side. Saul might be happy to let Danny come over, might be patient and understanding and kind and all the rest of it, but Danny had absolutely no confidence that anyone else would act the same way. He dreaded losing Rusty again, more than anything, and he could see it coming regardless.

Rusty was looking at him anxiously. He managed to force a smile. So what was he going to do – give up? "Somehow I'll get us both through this," he told Rusty softly. "I promise."

"We need to leave now, Daniel," Mom said, walking over with Saul a step behind. "Say goodbye to Robert and thank Mr Bergman for his his hospitality."

"Are you sure you won't stay for dinner?" Saul asked, sounding hopeful.

Mom hesitated for a second. Still charmed then. "Quite sure," she said though. "I need to take Daniel to visit his grandmother." She looked at Saul intently. "Now you will think about what I said."

"Of course," Saul said with a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes. Evidently whatever Mom had said Saul wasn't happy about it.

"Now, Daniel," Mom said warningly.

For a moment he considered begging. Not as if dignity made a difference. Hell if there was a chance it would let him stay with Rusty he'd happily throw a tantrum like a two year old. But he could see in Mom's eyes that it didn't matter what he did, she was determined to take him out of here.

He took a step towards Rusty and Rusty shook his head fractionally. No contact. Right. "Goodnight, Rus'," he said. "I'll see you tomorrow," he added in a whisper so that no one else could hear. He didn't know how, but he'd be here tomorrow.

He turned to Saul. "Thanks for having me, Saul," he said politely like he'd been taught.

"That's Mr Bergman to you, Daniel," Mom broke in, scandalised.

"I prefer Saul," Saul said hastily. "Mr Bergman just makes me feel old."

Mom pursed her lips. "An important part of raising a child is to instill respect for their elders and betters," she said stiffly.

Danny managed to catch Saul's eye, begging him not to argue. Arguing would only make it worse, he knew. "Thank you, Mr Bergman," he said formally, and Mom looked at him approvingly.

"There," she declared. "Good manners cost nothing."

Maybe a little self respect every now and then.

He followed Mom towards the door, taking a long look at Rusty as he did. Rusty looked so vulnerable.

He wished he didn't have to leave.

The door closed behind Danny and his mother and Saul took a deep breath, trying to lose some of the feelings of anger and outrage.

Mrs Ocean had taken him aside and told him that he should be very careful of Rusty...or Robert, as she insisted on calling him. She'd made a point of telling him that he'd always been disturbed, and after hearing what Danny said, she thought that he was probably dangerous. And she hadn't said it in so many words, but it was obvious she thought that Rusty wasn't worth the trouble.

He was nine. He just needed a chance.

And Saul had seen the expression of distaste and suspicion in her eyes, and he hadn't been able to even tell her where to get off. If he made trouble then inevitably she would make certain that Danny wasn't able to spend time here. In order to do what was best for Rusty, he couldn't defend Rusty. And yes, he could see how that would bother anyone, but it felt like it bothered him even more than he'd expect. He gave a rueful smile. In the circumstances it was probably inevitable that he'd get attached to the child.

He looked over to Rusty who was carefully not looking at him. No. Not completely not looking at him. He was focused on Saul's hands. Watching for any sudden movement, he guessed. Damnit. Rusty had seen his anger and was anticipating what happened next.

He had to try and fix this.

"I'm sorry," he said. "That Danny had to leave."

The unexpected conversation gambit had Rusty blinking at him, brow furrowed.

"I imagine he'll be back tomorrow," he went on. "Somehow I doubt he'll find it easy to stay away."

Rusty nodded tersely.

Saul wavered, torn between the desire to explain that it was Danny's mother who had angered him, that it was nothing to worry about, and his urge to make sure that Rusty didn't have even a hint of the things she'd said.

"Do you want to have a lie down before dinner?" he suggested. "Or do you want to watch more TV?"

Rusty nodded at the first one, his eyes flickering towards the door.

Saul figured it was less about Rusty wanting to rest so much as Rusty wanting to get away from him for a while. The pressure of always being on edge and alert must be exhausting.

"I'll come get you when dinner is ready," he told Rusty, and Rusty nodded quickly and hurried out of the room.

Alone, Saul glanced at the plate of Oreos. There had been eighteen on the plate. He'd eaten one. There were fourteen there now.

Alright. He sighed deeply. At least Rusty was eating. He just wasn't willing to let Saul see he was eating. And that was one more thing Saul really didn't know what to do about.

He rubbed his eyes and sat considering how out of his depth he was right now.

At some point he dozed off and only woke up with a start a couple of hours later. He'd been so tired...it wasn't as if he'd got any sleep last night either, but that was no excuse.

Standing up, he headed hastily towards Rusty's room, frightened that Rusty might have ran away again.

He knocked gently on the door and waited a moment before pushing it open. Rusty was sitting on the window ledge, gazing out of the window.

He smiled as Rusty looked round, ignoring the tension and the fear. Really, he needed to get more for the child to do. "How are you feeling?" he asked gently.

Rusty shrugged slightly in reply.

"Would you like some dinner?" he suggested, and he wasn't surprised when Rusty shook his head emphatically. "You need to eat," he pressed. "Why don't I make something anyway and we'll see if you feel hungry?"

Rusty shook his head again stubbornly, but he didn't seem like he was expecting Saul to listen. In this instance, he wasn't going to. Saul was going to make sure that food was available for Rusty, whether Rusty was going to eat it or not. Besides, he could make sure the food was conveniently fingersized for Rusty to hide.

"I'll be in the kitchen," he said, as brightly as he could. "Feel free to put the TV on."

He made and cut up a selection of sandwiches, french fries and hot dogs, and he was no more surprised that Rusty didn't seem to eat any of it than he was that Rusty hadn't put on the TV. It was going to take a lot of work to make Rusty comfortable with everything. The more time Saul spent with him, the more he came to believe that Rusty had been so mistreated that all adults were monsters to him; to be feared and appeased, but never, ever trusted. He could tell Rusty that he was safe, but 'safe' was a concept that Rusty simply didn't understand.

He managed to find plenty of excuses to look away over dinner, and he was confident that some of the food had wound up in Rusty's pockets. At least the child would eat something.

After dinner, Saul led them through to the living room and put the TV on without turning it up too high. He waited half an hour or so. Until he was confident that Rusty was as relaxed as he was going to get.

"The episode you had in the bedroom," he said quietly. "You said it was a memory, right?"

Rusty nodded slowly.

"Has it happened before"? he asked, trying not to sound too anxious.

Another nod.

"Was it just a memory, or was it like you were reliving it?" he tried.

Rusty pressed his lips together and looked down, not answering either one.

"Sometimes if someone's badly hurt or distressed, they find it difficult to get free from what happened," he said, picking his words carefully, trying to put it in a way Rusty would understand. "It's a fairly common reaction to trauma, I think. It should be treatable."

He'd worked with a guy a few years back who was taking care of his brother, who'd just got back from Vietnam. Paulie, his name was. He'd had flashbacks and woke up screaming in the middle of the night. He'd been getting treatment, but Will – his brother – had said that it was him talking calmly to Paulie that seemed to help most. Keeping him in the moment and letting him know he wasn't alone. Saul had bumped into Will six months ago and he'd said Paulie was doing much better, and that gave him hope.

He thought maybe what Rusty needed most was stability, understanding and love, and the sooner that Saul found somewhere that could provide them the better.

Rusty was looking at him questioningly.

Saul tried to make his smile as warm and reassuring as possible. "The point is it's understandable that you're frightened. It's going to be frightening. But you shouldn't worry too much that it's happening. Do you understand?"

Rusty nodded slowly.

"I will try and answer any questions you have, Rusty," something compelled him to add. "Any way you can find to ask them. I'll be listening."

There was a flash of something in Rusty's eyes. Something thoughtful, maybe even something hopeful. But then he studiously turned his attention to the TV, ignoring Saul with a sort of desperate defiance that made it clear he expected to be punished for it.

"Alright," Saul said softly instead. "But I'm still here, Rusty."

They watched TV for an hour or so, until the second time Saul spotted Rusty trying frantically to suppress a yawn.

"How about we call that bedtime?" he suggested firmly, and his breath caught at the fleeting expression of sheer terror on Rusty's face. "I just want you to get some sleep, that's all," he said quickly, hoping it was reassuring.

But even though Rusty's face was blank, he didn't look entirely convinced, and Saul was careful to stay well away from the bathroom while Rusty was getting ready. And still, Rusty hesitated in his bedroom door, looking back at Saul like he was waiting for instructions. Saul wondered darkly how often Rusty had taken part in this little scene, and just what the instructions had been.

"Lie down," he said gently, and he bit back the sigh as Rusty lay down on his stomach on top of the covers, his legs spread and crooked just enough to be...suggestive. It wasn't an offer, not quite, it was more of an...expectation. He wasn't even entirely sure that Rusty was conscious of what he was doing, and that thought just made him feel sick.

"Why don't you get under the covers and lie comfortably," he suggested, as calmly as he could, and obediently Rusty slipped under the blankets, but he lay straight and stiff, tension radiating off him. It got worse as Saul approached, and he was upset to realise he could actually see Rusty trembling. Still, he lightly placed his hand on the comforter over Rusty's shoulder for a second. He knew Rusty wasn't comfortable with him this close, but he thought maybe it would be good for Rusty to realise that not all physical contact led to pain. Maybe. He was working blind here.

"Goodnight, Rusty," he said gruffly, lightly tucking the blankets around the child's bony shoulders. "Sleep as late as you like tomorrow, you need your rest."

Rusty nodded, still blank faced, and Saul carefully backed away, closing the door over behind him.

He sighed wearily, deciding to head to bed himself. It had been a very long day.

Unsurprisingly, Saul woke up several times during the night, needing to go check on Rusty. The last thing he wanted was a repeat of the previous night, and the first time, when he saw the empty bed, his heart stopped beating for a second. Oh, God. He'd been sure that between them he and Danny had managed to persuade Rusty to stay. He'd seen the look on Rusty's face when they'd come back to find Danny sitting distraught on the doorstep. Somehow, he'd been sure that Rusty wouldn't hurt Danny like that again.

He was just about ready to run out and start looking when he suddenly realised he could hear the sound of frightened breathing. Slowly, he bent down and looked under the bed.

Rusty was lying huddled against the wall, looking up at him, his eyes wild and terror-filled. He flinched back when he saw Saul had found him, trying to pull himself further under the bed.

"Oh, Rusty," Saul whispered, heart aching.

Rusty tilted his head to one side, but didn't move. At least he was reacting, Saul supposed.

"Did you have a bad dream?" he guessed, and Rusty shook his head fractionally.

Oh. He bit his lip. "Wouldn't you be more comfortable in the bed?" he suggested.

Again, the headshake was tiny, but determined.

Saul hesitated, uncertain. The very idea that Rusty was so afraid and uncomfortable in his home that he only felt safe under the bed, actually physically hurt. But on the other hand, if Rusty did feel even a little safer, Saul didn't want to take away his sanctuary.

He didn't know what to do. Hell, what could he do? Was he seriously thinking about physically dragging Rusty out of there? He could imagine how Rusty would take that.

"Okay," he sighed. "Whatever makes you comfortable, Rusty. Just try and get some sleep, okay?"

Rusty's eyes followed suspiciously as he left the room.

The next couple of times he checked, Rusty was still hiding under the bed. He obviously was sleeping though, judging by the exhausted way he blinked up at Saul. That was something at least. He just wished Rusty was sleeping in his own bed, and when he eventually fell asleep, his dreams were vague and troubled.