A/N: And here we go, another chapter. This still counts as a few days later, right?
Saul followed Dr Lassiter into the room next door. The other side of the one way mirror, he realised, as he saw Rusty sitting forlornly at the interview table.
That had been every bit as bad as he'd imagined. Maybe even worse. When Rusty had knelt at Lassiter's feet without even hesitating, like it was a perfectly normal thing to do, Saul had felt like screaming. And the look of utter confusion on Rusty's face when Saul had objected didn't help either. It was all too obvious that Rusty had heard the words 'psychology' and 'assessment' and immediately fallen into whatever patterns that monster had drilled into his head.
And he'd thought that was what Saul expected of him. God. He had to work harder to make himself clear. To spell out exactly what Rusty had a right to expect out of life.
"My actual report will be compiled and distributed by the end of next week," Dr Lassiter announced. "In the meantime, if Mr Bergman will just answer a few questions..."
Reluctantly Saul did so, describing Rusty's eating and sleeping habits, the flashback he'd witnessed...he talked about the crossword puzzle, the game of Monopoly, Danny, trying to show that inside Rusty was a normal bright little boy.
All the while he was watching through the mirror as Rusty looked round carefully, slid down onto the floor next to Dr Lassiter's crate and – very, very slowly – reached out and lightly stroked the paw of the battered looking teddy bear perched on top. Saul's heart ached.
"And has he ever shown any signs of violence?" Lassiter asked, still scribbling on his pad.
"No, never," Saul said firmly, and only afterwards remembered Rusty pushing him. He didn't think that was what Lassiter meant though. Not only had it not hurt, Rusty hadn't been trying to hurt. But he didn't want to try explaining that now. Not with Mrs Warren standing there in judgement.
"Uh huh," Lassiter nodded again. "And other than the issue with his hand just now, has he shown any tendency towards self harming behaviours?"
Saul paused. "He thought you'd asked him to hurt himself," he pointed out mildly.
Lassiter looked up. "And he obeyed. Which I'm sure you'll agree, is abnormal."
True. He sighed. "No, there hasn't been anything like that," he confirmed.
"Okay then," Lassiter nodded. "As I said, I'll distribute the report later on, but right now I feel confident that it will be in disagreement with the diagnosis reports prepared by Dr Mayhew. I've found no evidence of florid psychotic fixations, auditory hallucinations, or any active delusions. Of course, I can't speak for what Dr Mayhew found at the time."
Saul bristled at the notion that there could be any weight given to Mayhew's opinion on Rusty. The very idea was ludicrous and obscene. And God, if that was what Mayhew had put in Rusty's records...obviously he'd planned to keep Rusty forever. And since no one had ever seemed to consider challenging him, if Saul hadn't happened to be there on that one particular day, or if he'd just walked past Danny like common-sense would tell him he should...he imagined Rusty still trapped in that hell hole, left rotting there for years, maybe. He couldn't bear the thought.
"So what is wrong with him?" Mrs Warren asked.
"A great deal of trauma which has resulted in elective mutism," Dr Lassiter said with a shrug. "I also found evidence of some degree of inhibited detachment disorder, but without further investigation, it's too early to give more details."
York cleared his throat. "Do you have any information on the assailant?"
"No," Dr Lassiter said soberly. "I can provide evidence to corroborate long term physical and sexual abuse, but I can't say with confidence when or where this occurred."
"We already know," Saul pointed out, but York was nodding, apparently satisfied.
"What about the emotional blunting we observed?" Mrs Warren cut in, with a face like she'd just sucked a lemon.
Lassiter shrugged again. "A combination of medication, trauma, conditioning...take your pick. He seems to be of above average intelligence - "
" - that's not backed up by his school records," Mrs Warren insisted, indicating a small stack of files on the desk.
Maybe not, but it tied in with everything Saul had seen. Not that he was exactly in a hurry to point it out, but the purse Rusty had stolen...that had been a clever bit of work.
"He was holding back in the assessment," Lassiter told her. "He read through the papers first and then answered exactly half the questions wrong. However they start with the easy ones and get progressively more difficult. He correctly answered a random distribution. I imagine he's been doing something similar with his school work."
Huh. That was something to bear in mind. He frowned suddenly, as Mrs Warren tried to argue whether or not that still made Rusty backwards, spotting something on the files on the desk. That looked like Danny's writing. Surreptitiously he reached out and quickly hid the little bundle of papers in his pocket.
"At any rate," Dr Lassiter said loudly. "The boy needs constant supervision and can be considered to have special needs for the purpose of placement." He paused, looking at Saul. "Normally such cases would be forced into institutional settings out of necessity. It's very hard to find foster carers willing and able to take them on."
"Yes, well, Mr Bergman is the emergency foster carer," Mrs Warren butted in. "Just for as long as we need the boy in easy reach of the doctors and police."
"I do need to talk to you about the placement," Julie cut in, looking at him. "It'll just take a few moments if we're done here?"
Lassiter nodded and Mrs Warren looked disgruntled.
"I want to get back to Rusty as soon as possible," Saul began. "But I have a few things to say as well."
They found another empty room and he followed her inside. "I'm afraid I'm going to need to ask you if you can keep him till Friday," Julie began immediately. "I had a placement lined up to take over, but I'm afraid that fell through."
The sheer relief and happiness he felt at the idea was unreal. What was he thinking? He wasn't a parent. He should be thinking in terms of what was best for Rusty, not getting caught up in his own feelings.
She was waiting for an answer. "That's no trouble at all," he said. "So I have him till Friday...what happens after that?"
"Once he's been seen by the doctors again, and they've taken the stitches out, we'll see about finding him somewhere longer term," she answered immediately.
"I've been thinking about that," Saul said. "I think you should be looking for foster parents for him. An older couple, maybe. Someone with a lot of experience looking after children. Someone patient. Compassionate. Someone who'll look after him."
She looked upset. "Mr Bergman...you heard what Dr Lassiter said. Finding foster parents willing to take on troubled children is not easy. And with his history, I'm afraid it's going to be very difficult indeed. No, we're better finding a safe institution for him until he's more rehabilitated. Then maybe we can - "
" - Rusty doesn't deserve to be locked up," Saul interrupted harshly.
She paused. "It's not a punishment," she said weakly.
"It's not going to help him," he answered, and he'd never been more sure of anything in his life. He took a deep breath. "Think about it at least," he pleaded. "You know what I'm saying is true. Your department has already failed him. Just give him a chance. Try. Please, I'm begging you."
With a nervous little laugh, she looked away from him. "It's really not up to me," she said. "I just assign the placements, I can't control what placements are available."
"But you can look, can't you?" he asked intensely. "You can ask. Please."
She bit her lip. "I'm sorry, Mr Bergman. I really can't make any promises."
But maybe she was going to try...only there were no points for trying here. This was Rusty's life they were talking about, and he didn't know what else he could do.
"I should get back to him," he said with a sigh. He didn't want to leave Rusty alone in a place like this for too long. Far too many potential memories.
Rusty was sitting back at the desk when he walked into the room. Saul smiled at him gently. "Ready to leave?" he asked, and Rusty was on his feet before he'd even finished talking, practically racing to the door. "You're going to be staying with me till Friday now," he told Rusty as they walked out the building. "I hope that's alright?"
Rusty just shrugged, and Saul didn't know if he was imagining the hint of relief he thought he saw.
He headed for the car, but Rusty stopped on the stairs, his face tilted towards the sky, his eyes closed serenely, like he was enjoying the sunlight on his face, breathing in deeply like the fresh air was the best taste in the world.
He'd been locked up for five months...in all that time, had they ever let him outside?
"I don't know about you, but I don't feel like going straight home," he remarked casually. "Mind if we make a quick detour?"
Rusty opened his eyes and looked at him intrigued. After a second, he slowly shook his head.
"Good," Saul smiled, mind racing as he tried to remember everything he could about this town. After a moment it came to him. He knew just the place.
The zoo was on the outskirts of town. It wasn't especially large but Saul figured it would still be fun to walk around, and he smiled to himself as he watched Rusty glance towards the entrance, a sort of uncertain intrigue in his eyes. It was January though and there was a decided chill in the air. The clothes and jacket he'd got Rusty might have been fine for walking to the car and back, but if they were going to be spending any length of time outside...well, he was experiencing the urge to make sure Rusty was well wrapped up. The product of spending his early years running around the streets of New York, when if he even poked his nose out of the front door in winter, a Jewish mother would sharply tell him to go inside and put on a scarf. Not his mother necessarily...there had been a network of older women with the same anxious expression. It takes a village to raise a child. It took more than one inexperienced con man anyway.
There was a small clothes shop a little way down the street. "Let's just stop in here for a moment," he said, and he bought them each hat, scarf and gloves, figuring that Rusty would be less likely to feel uncomfortable if it was for both of them.
He seemed half successful. Rusty took the clothes without making a fuss, but Saul could see the unhappy apprehension on his face.
"I just don't want you catching cold and getting sick," he explained, and Rusty seemed to accept that, pulling on the gloves and hat, and looping the scarf awkwardly around his neck.
Saul sighed and crouched down in front of him. "Let me," he murmured, carefully fixing the scarf so it covered him properly. "There we go," he said, and Rusty reached up and ran his fingers across the scarf as though he was surprised by how warm it was.
Saul smiled. "Now. Let's go to the zoo."
With a sense of wonder and dread, Rusty realised that Saul meant exactly what he'd said. They were going to the zoo. And he did feel the panic of gratitude of course, but the thing was this was so far outside his experience of things he was supposed to be grateful for that he really didn't know how to react. Dad, Dr Mayhew...everyone always made it clear that he should be thankful for every crust of bread he didn't pay for himself. Enough food to keep himself alive was a treat he didn't deserve. How was he supposed to react to an actual treat, something a normal kid with loving parents might even be grateful for? And Saul wasn't acting like he was expecting Rusty's gratitude either. He wasn't watching for Rusty's reaction with that expression of anticipation Rusty hated so much, and he didn't spell out the fact that this was an undeserved privilege – he didn't even draw Rusty's attention to the fact that the tickets cost so much. In fact, Rusty was pretty sure that Saul was trying to block his view of the admissions board.
There wasn't any way for him to refuse anyway. But he couldn't help but wonder if he was just telling himself there was no way to get out of it and wasn't bothering to look too hard. Because truthfully? He didn't want to say no. Truthfully, if Saul had stood there and explained exactly what Rusty would have to do to deserve this little trip, he probably would have at least thought about it.
He'd always wanted to go to the zoo. There'd been a field trip back in second grade. He'd tried so hard to get Mom and Dad to sign the permission slip. He'd managed to scrape together the five dollars picking pockets, and he'd even been stupid and desperate enough to tell Mom he didn't need the money, just the signature. Of course, she'd slapped him across the face and taken the five dollars off him, leaving him locked in the bathroom while she went off to buy booze with it. And then she'd told Dad when he got in, and he hadn't been able to go back to school until the marks faded a bit. Looking on the bright side, at least he hadn't had to sit in an empty class room while everyone else went to the zoo.
Three years later and it was even better than he'd imagined. Though right now he would have been content with anywhere outside. He'd never really been the outdoor type, and he would have thought the nights he'd spent sleeping on the streets would have cured him of any lingering fondness, but right now, outside felt like freedom. Like he could go anywhere. Do anything. Be someone...better.
And the zoo itself was fantastic. He still couldn't walk very far or very fast, but Saul didn't seem to be in any hurry, and they sat for ages, watching the penguins, and the monkeys, and the bored looking rhino.
"You see that monkey up at the top?" Saul murmured. "He's thinking 'I've got three bits of carrot and two bits of orange. Now, I've got a couple of choices here. Either I eat it all or I start some sort of juggling act.'" Another monkey hopped up onto the branch beside the first monkey, staring at it with large eyes. Saul continued seamlessly in a higher voice. "'A juggling act? Are you mad? You know we're trying to start a serious Shakespeare company here. Street theatre is beneath us.' 'No!'" he went on, in the first monkey voice. "'Juggling and Shakespeare will combine together fantastically. It shall be a new form of art never before known to monkeykind. Imagine how much more interesting Hamlet will be if the ghost is juggling chainsaws while he talks!' 'You're mad!' 'Mad? Never! Mwahahahaha!'"
He actually laughed. Out loud.
Just the sound of it made him freeze, startled and uncertain, and he wondered at how at ease he felt.
Saul was smiling at him. "I used to love the zoo when I was a kid," he told him conversationally as they moved on. "We used to go every year in the summer. This was the Bronx Zoo, in New York; it was bigger than this one. There was a lion."
The closest this place had was a family of bobcats, although looking at them playing without a care in the world, the cubs roaming around without even glancing at their parents, like they weren't afraid, well. Rusty didn't think it could be better if there were lions.
"Yeah," Saul said softly, standing next to him and watching the bobcats, a warm smile on his face. "Me neither."
He tired quickly but he did his best not to let on, not wanting to spoil Saul's evident enjoyment. Besides. He wanted to see more too, and he certainly didn't want Saul to think he was whining.
After a while, after they'd looked round the bird house, and the room full of reptiles, Saul approached one of the keepers standing at the side of a large paddock, and they had a hushed conversation that Rusty couldn't hope to overhear, no matter how he tried. After five minutes or so, Saul beckoned him over.
"Rusty, this is Alan," Saul introduced, and he tensed, suddenly wondering if the price for this treat was about to become apparent.
But Alan just beamed at him. "How would you like to help feed the animals, kiddo?" he asked genially.
Rusty blinked and looked anxiously up at Saul, uncertain if this could possibly be for real. But Saul was smiling encouragingly, and in a dream Rusty found himself standing at the edge of the paddock, a bucket of greenery in his hand, while the deer milled around him.
"Just hold the leaves in your hand and let them come to you," Alan called.
He held out his hand stiffly, and the deer nuzzled at his hand as it ate greedily.
"You can pet her if you like," Alan told him. "Just be gentle."
Hesitantly he reached out and his fingers were trembling as he stroked the deer's shoulder. She was warm and soft and alive, and she didn't recoil away from him, and she didn't know he was disgusting, and he couldn't ruin her. He closed his eyes.
"Rusty? You okay?" Saul asked anxiously.
He was better than okay.
"Good," Saul said, and Rusty could hear the smile in his voice, and he didn't understand, but he thought maybe he'd be happy hearing it forever.
After, he was too tired to walk around the zoo anymore, but Saul seemed to understand and they just sat and watched the bobcats playing some more.
He'd thought the cubs were totally independent of the parents, but now he saw that the parents were watching them all the time, and when one of the cubs took a tumble off a log, it made a distressed mewing noise and one of the bigger cats was there immediately, checking it over and picking it up, carrying it away with care and attention.
"You ready to go home?" Saul asked him softly.
He nodded, swallowing hard.
To his surprise they stopped in the gift shop on their way out. The place did seem to be designed so that there was no other way to get out – he guessed they wanted parents to feel obliged to buy something for their kids. But Saul stopped to look at post cards and Rusty took advantage of his distraction and snuck off to look at the shelves of soft toys. There were loads of them, and right in the corner on the bottom shelf, he found a group of toy bobcats. He looked round hastily, checking that no one was watching, and then he quickly knelt down and rubbed his hand across its soft head. It felt...nice. Sort of comforting, but somehow, at the same time, it made him feel empty inside. He looked over his shoulder again, needing to be absolutely certain that no one was watching, but Saul and the shop assistant both seemed preoccupied. Good.
Holding his breath, he quickly grabbed the bobcat off the shelf and held it against his chest, his arms wrapped around it, almost like a real hug. It felt even better, and he ducked his head, burying his face in its soft fur, and just for a second he felt...he didn't know. Safe? Normal? Clean? Something, anyway, and it was with the greatest reluctance that he let go and started to put the bobcat back on the shelf.
Almost immediately it was taken out of his hand, and he looked up to see Saul standing there, holding the toy. He flinched back, desperately covering his head, ready to protect himself from what was going to come. He wasn't supposed to touch things, wasn't supposed to get his filth on them. He wasn't supposed to want things like he deserved them, and he certainly wasn't supposed to cringe away from his punishment like a freaky little coward. He closed his eyes, wanting to hide all the fear away. He didn't want Saul to think he was scared.
"Rusty," Saul said softly. "Rusty, I'm sorry. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm never going to hurt you. Open your eyes, please."
Slowly, he opened his eyes. Saul was sitting on the floor beside him, the bobcat still in his hands.
"There we go," Saul said, with a relieved smile. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."
He wasn't scared. He scowled instinctively, before he even thought about how stupid that was.
For a long moment, Saul just regarded him steadily. "It's okay to be scared," he said unexpectedly.
Was it? He frowned, trying to make sense of this. Did Saul want him scared? Except Saul had gone out of his way to try and not make him scared. Oh, he was too tired for this, and they were sitting down in the corner of the zoo gift shop, and people were staring, and it was like Saul didn't even care.
The bobcat was gently deposited in his arms. "Here," Saul said. "Let's go buy this."
No. He shook his head fiercely, his lips pressed tight together. No, he didn't want to owe Saul even more than he already did. It was just a stupid toy. He didn't need it...he shouldn't even want it. He wasn't a little kid.
Unseen his hand tightened treacherously around the bobcats fur, soft and safe under his palm.
Saul sighed. "Think of it as a reward," he suggested persuasively. "This morning was difficult, and you were good and brave. You deserve something for that. Let me get this for you. Please."
He deserved this for being good? His eyes flickered down to the bobcat, and he struggled with the idea. Of course he was used to being threatened with rewards for good behaviour, but that was to keep him compliant, for the future not for something he'd done in the past. Not to mention, he hadn't done anything. Nothing he'd expect to be rewarded for.
And yet when he forced himself to look Saul in the eye, he saw nothing but truth. Saul wanted him to have this.
Against his will, he nodded.
Thanks for reading, please review.