Justice by InSilva
Disclaimer: I've checked and I have no legal entitlement to either of them. Still hoping for a legacy from some relative I didn't know I had.
A/N: This takes place almost immediately after the last chapter.
Chapter Ten: Memory
In the kitchen, he poured the whisky and tried again not to think about what he'd been trying not to think about ever since he'd heard "Just because he took the money doesn't mean he had a choice". Ever since he'd looked into Rusty's reluctant eyes and seen exactly what that had meant.
The bottle chinked against the glass and he realised he'd closed his eyes as if by doing so, he could stop the images racing through his head. He opened them again and put the bottle carefully on the side, resting his forehead against an overhead cupboard and staring down at the amber liquid in the glass in his hand.
Rusty. On his own. Unavoidably beautiful and unprotected. Forced to- oh, he couldn't complete that thought. His mind supplied the picture though and he was idly aware of something flowing through his fingers as it did so. The glass was broken.
He mopped up the mess and disposed of the glass, grateful that his hand had come through the experience intact. And as he poured another whisky, he thought about what Gino meant to Rusty. The opportunity to save someone. To help them fight the inevitable.
The lethargy that he'd witnessed in Gino's neighbourhood came to mind and unwillingly, he found himself picturing Rusty, many years ago, in similar circumstances. But Rusty had had the intelligence and the instincts to know there was something else and Rusty had fought his way out.
And maybe the vitality that was Rusty, the energy and the intensity and the focus and the drive…maybe they were all enhanced because Rusty knew a time when everything had conspired to drain him of what made him him. A time when he had had to believe that there was a better way and all that he had had to back that belief up was himself.
Rusty: self-sufficient, alive and vivid and vibrant in a way that made others seem pale. Danny hated the thought of him existing alongside cloying indifference. But he'd done it. And he'd survived.
Dirty curtains hang at the open windows in the corridor and the air is thick with the smell of grease from the diner below. There is the noise of the street outside and somewhere someone is playing a radio with one ludicrous jingle after another.
The door is all peeling paint and worn wood, neglected and uncared for. He looks at the door handle. He really, really doesn't want to open that door, to go into that room but he has to. Has to. Inside, there is musky sweetness as if someone were trying to cover up what is underlying; he can still smell what they're hiding…
MacAvoy is waiting with the broad smile that he badly wants to punch; the smile that makes his skin crawl. Better MacAvoy than not, an inner voice tells him, at least it's safe and clean, at least there's no violence…
"Good to see you again," MacAvoy says breezily. "Money's on the side."
He doesn't bother checking. It will be there. It will be correct. It always is.
MacAvoy draws level with him and drops his voice, "New one. Could be a regular. Could be your regular," he emphasises and the pressure in his chest increases. He doesn't trust himself to speak but he forces a little nod.
"I'll away," MacAvoy says with his usual note of cheeriness and beams at the back of the room. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
As the door closes behind MacAvoy, he waits, looking at the shadows at the back. Looking…waiting…
"Come here, boy, and let's get better acquainted," the voice says and he walks forward, readying himself, taking himself away. Because this isn't happening to him and this isn't him but if it happens too many more times, he fears it might be.
"You out of it?"
Fuck, yeah.
"Awake." Staring at the ceiling, watching the memory play…he closed his eyes and pushed it back where it belonged.
Danny was in the doorway, painkillers in one hand, whisky in the other.
"Can you sit up?"
"I'll manage." He actually tried before yelping and falling back.
Danny shook his head and put the alcohol and the pills down on the side. He sat on the edge of the bed and gently pulled Rusty into a sitting position, pillows behind him.
"Here."
As he fed him the painkillers and a sip of the whisky, Danny did his own silent diagnosis. The sharpness of the physical pain was dying. Probably only a remnant by morning. The ache would remain and there would be stiffness. It would be a couple of days before Rusty would be walking with anything approaching his usual grace; a couple of days before Rusty's shoulders recovered. That would be Monday. Just in time for court. Vincente had known what he was doing all right. Nothing to leave any marks as evidence. Nothing to show for the experience except the inner scars.
"Who were you on the phone to?"
"When?"
"Don't even bother," Rusty warned.
"Bobby," Danny confessed. "He's concerned, Rusty. He knows what Vincente's capable of."
"What did you tell him?"
Danny sighed. "I didn't explain about the jury service. I just said that you had had a chance encounter in the hotel restaurant with Vincente and that there had been a disagreement over the likely outcome of the trial. And that you were now missing."
And don't think it wasn't hell.
I know…I know.
"I phoned him back to call off the search party. Oh…and we've got more company arriving tomorrow."
"Tell me."
"Saul and Turk."
Possibly the most unexpected combination of names.
"Turk got a gig driving a limo over to Hollywood for a movie star and Saul hitched a ride."
"How did they know- why did they phone you?" Rusty asked suddenly. "You called Saul, didn't you? Damn it, Danny! I don't want Saul here!"
"Rusty-"
"Why did you call him?" Rusty looked furious.
"I didn't-"
"He doesn't know you're here! He would have called me. He would have-"
"He didn't. He did. He tried," Danny said patiently. "You weren't answering your phone."
There was a pause.
Phone was on silent.
I guessed.
"You want to change your voicemail?" Danny asked. "'Sorry, I can't come to the phone right now. I'm too busy being tortured'. Saul called the hotel and they put him through to me."
Oh.
Oh.
Sorry.
I should hope so.
Rusty stared at the wall. "I don't want to see Saul," he said flatly.
"I know you don't." And there was no triumph in Danny's voice only sympathy. "You know what he's going to say."
"Is there any way-?" Rusty looked up but the hope was faint.
"Doubt it. He sounded excited to see us both again."
"Yeah. He would."
Danny looked down at him. "I ran a bath. Are you ready?"
"I guess."
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and gingerly put his weight on his feet. Too soon, too soon, and he sat back down on the bed. Danny was there, arms outstretched, and Rusty pulled himself up, clinging on to Danny's elbows, putting all his weight on to Danny.
"Never figured I'd have you as a dance partner," Danny muttered as he supported him and they moved slowly to the bathroom.
"I want you to know, Fred, that I usually like to lead." Rusty's nails dug into his arms.
"I'm sure."
They reached the bathroom and Rusty sat on the edge of the bath with relief. Danny was looking at him with amusement.
What?
"You need a hand?"
Frowning, Rusty looked at him and realised.
"You always want to take my clothes off," he accused. "What is it with you?"
"Somehow it seems more natural for you to be naked," Danny retorted. "Do you want my help or don't you?"
Rusty gave in. "Yeah."
A little while later, Rusty was ensconced in bubbles and warmth. His feet had complained as they'd entered the water but they were adjusting. His shoulders seemed to welcome the heat even if he daren't move them naturally yet.
Danny was sitting on a chair alongside. With a box of chocolates. They had moved to the second layer.
"Not that one," Rusty said immediately as Danny's hand moved across the options. "Or that one."
Remind me again. How long have I known you?
Sorry.
"Didn't think this morning I was going to wind up hand-feeding you chocolates."
"Wouldn't be the first time."
"Philadelphia," Danny smiled, remembering.
"Yeah. I was thinking about Tallahassee. We said we wouldn't mention Philly."
Mind racing on the one hand with drain covers and lost keys and on the other of finding Rusty rolled over and handcuffed by a girl called Tamsin, Danny shut him up with a chocolate. "Doubt this'll be the last time anyway."
Rusty let the strawberry crème melt on his tongue and thought back to the afternoon encounter.
"You know, the first time I saw Vincente, he was all about results. And with the fire alarms, it was the same. And I was looking and looking in his face, Danny. And when I saw him today, there was still no sign of you, thank fuck, but there was something else…"
"Remind you of someone?"
Yeah.
"The way he's so self-contained, right? The way nothing shakes him? The way he keeps a little bit of himself back?"
Rusty looked at him, unblinking and Danny suddenly shut up.
"No," Rusty said eventually. "None of those. But thank you so much for sharing."
Danny pulled a face.
"What I was going to say was that he doesn't like to lose and most of all, that he leaves emotion at the door." Holding Danny's gaze, he put everything into his next words. "He frightens me. Please, Danny. Please go back to Tess."
With a sigh, Danny put the box of chocolates on the floor and tilted his head on one side.
"Look. I'm with you on Gino, Rus. I don't like it but I know why you have to do it and I know why I have to let you. No more arguments about that. So stop trying to send me away. Do we understand each other?"
It had been worth one last shot. "OK."
After the bath, he'd helped Rusty towel himself dry and into a pair of boxers and left him on the bed watching "Notorious" while he himself disappeared briefly for muscle rub and more chocolate.
"I hate this bit," Rusty said as he walked back through the door.
"Which bit?"
"When all she wants is for Dev to take her away from it all-"
"And he doesn't seem to care-"
"But inside he's dying a little bit-"
"Every time he sees her."
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
So…
"Got this," Danny held up the carrier bag.
"Then get to work."
Rusty submitted to the firm but gentle fingers that applied the unguent carefully to his shoulders and arms, sensitive to the rawness of the underlying pain. It still didn't stop him yelping. When he'd done so and apologised for the fourth time, Danny stopped and leaned round him and looked at him.
"Do you want something to bite on?"
"Depends."
Oh, you're feeling better.
"I was talking Hershey bars."
"Then the answer would be yes. Please."
Careful to keep the paper on the chocolate and his hands on the paper and the chocolate thus uncontaminated, Danny unwrapped a bar and held it out for Rusty to take a bite. He never underestimated the healing power of chocolate where Rusty was concerned.
When he'd finished rubbing the cream into Rusty's feet, ignoring the grimaces that he wasn't even looking directly at, he stood up.
"That's you done."
Rusty could feel the heat moving into his muscles. It was a strange feeling of comfortable discomfort. On the whole, though, he thought it would help.
"Thanks."
"I'm going to go and get cleaned up." Danny glanced over at his bed and back at Rusty's. He looked down at him. "You want me with you tonight?"
Thanks.