Justice by InSilva
Disclaimer: look, I mostly look after them.
A/N: yeah. This could get a little rough.
Chapter Twenty-One: Agony
Danny ached therefore he was.
"It's you." Vincente shakes his head. "It's you, isn't it?"
Danny says nothing, just keeps his eyes on Vincente. He is sandwiched up between two of Vincente's colleagues in the back of a van and at the moment, he is concentrating on how fast he thinks he will be able to move when the situation arises.
Vincente swears softly.
"I kept turning Friday over and over in my head," he says. "Trying to think what it was that wasn't there…why there was that glimpse of gladness in his face when the hood came off. But it was you." He shakes his head again. "I'll have you know I did my homework. I know you're not his live-in lover. I know you're not his significant other…"
Danny blinks a little too quickly and this draws a laugh from Vincente.
"Oh, but that's exactly what you are, isn't it? You know what? That night in the restaurant, I could tell there was something between you. I knew it. I just didn't know it. How many people have figured it out?"
Danny doesn't answer.
"Not many, I bet," Vincente answers his own question. "And yet…"
He pauses for a moment considering then says, "I hope you're made of stronger stuff than your friend. You should have seen him squealing for mercy, begging me to let him go, crying out for me to go easy on him, whimpering like a beaten puppy, weak and pathetic-"
"Liar." The word falls out of Danny and Vincente grins.
"You see? You have to defend him. You sit there and you're furious that I'm besmirching his name. Even though we both know the truth. Unbelievable."
The van halts and Danny tenses. As the door of the van opens and he is pulled out, he swings and lands a punch at one of the men and then pulls away and starts to run. Hands grab him successfully and a fist connects with his eye.
"No!" Vincente's voice rings out. "I want him identifiable."
The word sends a shiver through Danny. They pull him into a warehouse that he recognises from Rusty's description.
Danny can see that Vincente still can't get over the newly-discovered knowledge about Rusty and himself. Even as Danny is frisked and his phone found and handed over to Vincente. Even as he orders Danny's wrists and ankles to be tied and pushes him down into a chair. Even as he threads the chain through the ropes that bind Danny's feet together. Even as he sits down opposite him and waits.
"I overheard the defence and the star witness chatting. It seems, Mr Ocean, you've been a busy man. Nothing you wouldn't do to help your friend it seems."
"That's what friends are for, Vincente. I'm sorry you don't know that." Danny injects a genuine note of sympathy into his voice. "Listen. Whatever's going on in the court, there's nothing that's going to be achieved here that's going to influence it. Is there? This doesn't need to happen. Whatever the verdict, it's not going to affect you."
Vincente smiles thinly. "I forgot you weren't there for the evidence. People who actually care about what happened to Marcello are now going to be looking for me. And if I were in the revenge game, I'd be blaming you for that, Mr Trent and Mr Hennessey."
Vincente's phone rings and he answers it.
"I see" he says and hangs up, then looks closely at Danny with a look that, God help him, reminds him of Rusty at his most immovable. He realises there is nothing he can say to stop this, nothing…and Danny swallows because even though he's thought this on other occasions, he's never been quite so sure that this is it.
"Court's out. Not guilty. For that, I promised him long, slow and final. And I'm a man of my word, Mr Ocean. Unlucky for you that you get to understand that in full." He drags Danny to his feet and kicks the chair away. He turns to his colleagues. "Up."
Danny finds himself hoisted upside down in the air and his arms drop down in front of his face as gravity takes over. Vincente prowls round him and then out of nowhere delivers a hard punch into Danny's stomach followed by a roundhouse kick that lands somewhere low down and tender in Danny's back drawing an expulsion of air tinged with pain. Both blows are clean and professional and they are as vicious as anything Danny's ever received. He swings gently in the air as Vincente walks round him and then proceeds to take him apart as never before.
His body feels battered beyond words and he has no strength.
When he hears his own ring tone, his face crumples. Vincente stops and answers and Danny can hear his side of the conversation and imagines Rusty's side. He wants to say a million things to Rusty right now. He wants to tell him it was his – Danny's - fault. He wants to tell him not to go after Vincente. He wants to tell him-
One of Vincente's colleagues takes an ineffective swing at him and Vincente breaks off to put him right. Danny feels a rib go. The blood is running down over his face and through his hair and he shakes his head a few times to blink it away.
Vincente finishes his conversation and then turns back to Danny.
"Sadly, time is pressing. I am going to leave you in the hands of my colleagues. They will not be as precise, as measured as I am. But they will be effective. And Mr Ryan will understand that choices have consequences."
He turns to the men behind him. "Nothing on the face. Give it…" he glances at Danny as if carrying out a professional diagnosis, "…another fifteen minutes maximum. Then walk away and leave him. I want him alive when you go. Alive and in a great deal of pain."
He turns his head on one side and looks at Danny. "I'll be sure to leave him a message at his hotel to tell him where to find you. Not for a couple of days though."
And with that, he is gone and with that, the blows start again and Danny finds himself once more swimming in anguish.
"You dealing?"
Saul is shielding him from Bobby and Turk and his voice is low and urgent. Rusty forces himself back under control and nods.
"I saw him take Danny about twenty minutes ago in a van outside the courthouse."
A van…
"Warehouse. He's taking him to the warehouse. Twenty minutes…"
Rusty sprang to his feet.
"Bobby? Vincente's taken Danny to the place he took me, I'm sure of it. It's a disused meat-packing warehouse with no windows." He thought back to Friday and the journey and getting out of the van… "It's about a ten minute journey from here. And there's gravel outside and…there was…it's down by the docks. We need to move. Quickly."
"Sure we do." And some part of Rusty was ridiculously grateful that Bobby is not even trying to tell him to stay out of it.
Danny spat out the blood and winced and waited for the next punch or kick though his eye was swollen and he couldn't track his attackers that successfully. Vincente's right, they're not as clean as Vincente but they made up for quality with quantity. They're doing as Vincente instructed too and keeping away from his face and Danny was doing his best not to picture Rusty getting the message from Vincente and coming here and finding him.
"Enough," one of them said and they faded away and left Danny, beaten and bleeding and fighting to hang on.
While Bobby was busy organising his forces, Rusty had thrown the car round corners and raced red lights and he pulled up in the general area that held infinite possibilities.
"But they're all disused warehouses," Turk said helplessly.
"Then we search all of them," Saul shrugged.
Rusty was already out of the car and running.
He felt certain life was ebbing from him. He found himself thinking about things left unsaid to those who needed to know.
Tess…and Saul…and Rusty. Rusty. Rusty who knew him inside and out and that was something Danny had never bargained for in life. Someone who was that close, it felt like you were wearing the same skin. Someone you found you cared about so much more than you thought possible. Someone you realised would die for you. Someone you would die for.
Rusty broke open the door of the fifth building and snarled as it proved as empty as the other four.
Saul and Turk had taken the next block and he sprinted past them to start on the block after that.
Danny couldn't feel his feet. Somehow that seemed important and he opened his good eye and squinted upwards. They were still attached. He dropped back and gave a little yelp as he did so. Surely his body shouldn't still hurt so much. He felt the tiredness wash through him. So easy to give in to it…so easy…
Rusty was focused on the door lock of the next warehouse. Across the way, he could hear Saul and Turk cracking open another.
They would find him. They had to find him. And they had to be in time.
Somewhere, far away there was a noise and Danny hoped they weren't coming back to hurt him again.
He felt his grip on consciousness fading. He thought of Tess and Rusty. God, he hoped Tess would forgive Rusty and that Rusty would forgive himself.
And then, the darkness came.
The door to the warehouse swung open and Turk stepped through and then wished he could have stepped back again. With difficulty he found his voice.
"Here!"
Saul was nearest and therefore quickest. He too stood in the doorway and paused, horrified. Even so his wits were such that he turned and blocked Rusty before he got to the door.
"Out of my way, Saul," and Rusty's voice was low and edgy.
"Let Turk bring him out," Saul begged. "Please, Rusty."
Rusty gave him a look of incredulity and pushed him to one side.
Danny was there. Others might have had a hard time telling but Rusty would have known his left little fingernail which judging by the mess in front of him was possibly the only part left intact.
Danny was hanging upside down chained by his ankles, a small pool of blood beneath him.
"Get him down," Rusty ordered tersely.
Turk ran to the wall to release the chain as Rusty ran to Danny. He supported Danny's shoulders and tried unsuccessfully to find a pulse in the mess that was Danny's neck
"Turk, get him down now!" Rusty's voice was thick with emotion.
Turk finally mastered the mechanism and the chain slipped free. Danny came down in one awkward heap and Rusty broke his fall, going to ground with him.
Fishing in his pocket for a penknife, Saul leaned forward and sawed through the ropes around Danny's hands then tossed it down to Turk who pulled the chain free from around Danny's ankles and cut through the rope binding them as Rusty checked his pulse.
"He's not breathing!"
Rusty tore Danny's shirt open and controlled the unhelpful feelings of pain and panic that rose within him at what lay underneath. Tilting Danny's head back, he opened his mouth and cleared the airways, then ran the heel of his hand down the front of Danny's chest to the breastbone.
Turk caught his arm. "You sure you should be-"
Rusty shook him free and snapped. "He's not breathing. I'm not going to make it worse."
He tossed Turk his phone.
"Call Bobby and tell him and wait outside so that he can find us."
He ran his hand down Danny's chest again tracing the sternum and locked his hands and elbows, compressing the chest and trying not to think about ribs grinding and lungs being punctured and ruptured spleens and a hundred other internal injuries that Danny may or may not have and that he couldn't do anything about anyway.
"Count for me, Saul," he instructed and bent low over Danny's face, covering his lips with his, breathing into his mouth twice before breaking off and starting the chest compressions.
There was a beach, long ago, and the first and last time he'd ever had to look at Danny and hope (and wish and even pray) that he was reading him right…
"…thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, breathe," Saul said.
There was a car park and introductions…
Rusty performed CPR as he did everything. Exceptionally.
There was the first official job and the build up and the execution and the euphoria…
Danny's chest was rising and falling and the circulation was being maintained.
There was the first nightmare and the arms suddenly round him, holding him tightly, arms that didn't feel intrusive, an embrace that wasn't oppressive, and hands that were stroking his head, fingers that were stroking his hair but gently and comfortingly…
"…breathe…"
There was the first motel room that he'd sat in for all of ten minutes, white-lipped and quiet, until Danny had returned and seen his face and looked at the lampshade and the ceiling and dragged him out of there…
Rusty was breathing for both of them into Danny's warm mouth.
There was their first million and their first real spending spree and the first things they'd bought had been for each other…
"…seven, eight, nine…"
There was the first time he'd been frightened of losing him…
"…two, three, four…"
There was the first time he'd been frightened Danny was going to be the one left behind…
"…breathe," said Saul and Rusty blew life again into Danny.
There was the first time one of them had met someone else and the first (and last) time he'd acted so stupidly…
Rusty's hands continued to pump Danny's chest, regularly, expertly.
There was their first (and last) row…
"…ten, eleven, twelve…"
There was their first enforced separation and four years of lives on hold…
"…breathe," Saul said and there was an edge of desperation and nihilism in there now.
There was the first time anyone had taken three casinos…
He was ignoring anything other than the very immediate present. He was ignoring the renewed ache in his shoulders. He was ignoring anything other than Saul and the beats and the pressure and the breathing and not thinking about Danny, not letting himself crack…
There was the first time he hadn't been able to find a pulse…and that was now.
"Rusty…"
"Don't you stop, Saul," he said, maintaining the rhythm, disregarding the ache in his grip.
"…perhaps you should…"
"Saul!" Rusty shot him a glare as he bent over Danny and breathed into him again.
"…he's gone, Rusty," and the sob in Saul's voice reminded him of when Annie had died.
White-lipped, Rusty continued with the chest compressions.
"Rusty…please…"
"No." It wasn't even an argument.
"Rusty, look at him…he's…look at him…" Saul pulled Rusty's arm and made him sit back.
Danny was lying, glassy-eyed, face covered in blood, body battered. There were no signs of life. Rusty sat back on his heels and looked at him.
"He's…"
"No." It was still not an argument. "Come on, Danny, you breathe, goddamn it." He started the CPR again. "Breathe!" He blew into Danny's mouth. "Come on!" His hands knotted together and forced Danny's chest muscles to work.
"Come on, you lazy fucker! You want me to do this for you as well?" He bent over Danny's face and breathed life into him again.
His fists slammed down into Danny's chest and Saul winced at the violence.
"You want me to breathe for both of us? Fuck, that's not happening!"
He brought his fists down again hard and Saul gave a little cry.
"Breathe, you son of a bitch! Breathe!"
With all of his might, he struck Danny again with a double-handed blow.
"You goddamn son of a bitch, you've never backed down from anything in your life? You want to start now? Fight! Goddamn you, fight!" And this time there was anger and grief and for the first time, just the hint of despair.
Again, he punched and this time, there was a cough. A cough and then a rattling gasp and with a shuddering sob, Rusty watched life returning into Danny's face.
"Don't you ever, ever fucking do that to me again."
Danny drew another rattling breath and tried to grin and say something and then his face screwed up in pain.
"Don't," Rusty said but Danny was insistent and Rusty bent over his face to hear:
"You wake me up just to quote "The Abyss" at me?"
"Damn right."
"Out of the way." A stranger's voice pushed Rusty aside and there were paramedics sent by Bobby and Bobby himself and Turk had come back and was crying and so was Saul and all Rusty could see were Danny's eyes and somehow he found Danny's hand and held it like he'd never let it go.
A/N: according to my good friend wiki, CPR on the whole just keeps the body breathing till the paramedics arrive. It brings very, very few people back completely. I didn't see why Danny couldn't be one of those very, very few.
And I do realise that twenty odd chapters ago I killed him. And that people have been reading this on the understanding that Danny dies. I'm hoping that the fact that he doesn't means that you won't be too mad with me.
Oh, and Rusty does indeed quote "The Abyss" at Danny. Not consciously and not quite verbatim.