Justice by InSilva
Disclaimer: own no one herein.
Chapter Twenty-Three: POV
He sat in his car outside the hospital and hung up the phone and wondered whom else he could call. Rusty had a great head start. And it wasn't as if he could put out an official description. The man could hide himself faster than a stray ace at a poker table.
"Christ, what a mess," he said to no one.
He felt like a failure. Danny had spent a long time on the phone explaining about the trial and Gino and Vincente and the little close encounter Rusty had had.
"He doesn't think so but he needs protecting. And I'm not enough."
He'd got sufficient from the conversation to understand that Rusty was off and running after the trial. They all knew Vincente would be chasing: Danny wanted Rusty to have the best lead possible. Sequestration had been Danny's idea and he'd happily set it up though it had taken some string-pulling and a little manipulation of facts.
With the subsequent hunt for Danny, he'd forgotten Danny's words. And now, the chase was on even if the prey had become the hunter and the hunter had become the prey.
He pulled out his phone again and dialled home.
"Hello, hon." Molly was bright and warm and he felt the same rush of comfort he always did when he heard her voice. "How's things?"
"Danny's been hurt." He didn't need to qualify that with a surname. There was only one Danny.
"God!" He knew she knew it was bad. "Does Tess know?"
"She's here with him."
"Good."
He waited and wondered then realised that Molly took it as a given. As he would.
"Rusty isn't."
"He isn't-?"
"Took off."
He heard Molly issue a mild curse and knew that she got that bit too.
"Keep your eyes and ears open, Molly." He hesitated. "Tell Linus to do the same, yeah?"
The thing was, he couldn't be mad at Tess. Not really. She'd been frightened and in shock and hurting and needed someone to lash out at. It should have been him but it was always going to be Rusty. She loved him. That was what was at the root of it. He had to make allowances for Tess.
That was the trouble though, wasn't it? Because Rusty would never need to have allowances made. Rusty always got it. Oh, there'd been that brief time where Rusty had hated the concept of Tess but the reality of Tess…Rusty had got that. Eventually. After he'd…and after he'd…yeah…after.
The point was that Rusty knew and understood. And even though, after Vegas, Tess was so much more clear about what was important to him and who was important to him and how it all fitted together and the fact that yes, there was enough room – more than enough - for both of them…even though all that…she was still prone to insecurity. And he was still working out how to convince her she had nothing to worry about on that score.
He was on his own. He'd explained in part and he'd seen her face. And then he'd left it a while so that she didn't see it as a dismissal and pretended he was exhausted (actually didn't have to pretend too hard) and suggested Tess find some food. She'd left the room and he hoped her eyes had been shining with worry for him or delayed reaction or something other than what he thought.
He was lying with his eyes closed, his mind running at high speed through perilous situations that always seemed to end up with an outcome that sent his blood pressure soaring.
It was his fault. Whatever Rusty or Tess thought, it was his fault. If he hadn't been so…well, this was why Rusty needed to know about every plan of his. To point out the parts where he was going to do something stupid.
He couldn't be mad at Rusty for leaving. And he couldn't be mad at Tess for reacting. But part of him wanted to be. With both of them. So very much. Damn it.
He saw Tess come out of Danny's room and disappear up the corridor, wiping her face as she went. He started to say something and half-stood up but she didn't hear him or didn't want to hear him and he sat back down again and stared at the door to Danny's room.
He felt like a spare part. He'd fetched the clothes and he'd felt briefly useful and then Saul had sent him off to a hotel for the night. He'd lain in bed and looked up at the ceiling and felt very alone.
Sometime in the early hours, he can't stand it any longer and he digs out his phone. Virgil answers on the eleventh ring.
"What's the matter, sweetheart? Did I get you out the bath?"
"For your information, it's the middle of the night here."
"Hate to disillusion you but it's the middle of the night here too."
"So what won't wait?"
Getting home and kicking your-
He takes a breath.
"I'm still in L.A.."
"We hate that place."
"Yeah." They did. "Danny's been beat up."
"He has?" Virgil suddenly sounds wide awake. "Is it bad?"
"Pretty bad."
There is a pause. Virgil knows what "pretty bad" means.
"Is he-is he gonna die?"
"He's already done that."
"Danny died?"
He thinks back to the warehouse. Danny hanging upside down and lifeless.
"Yeah. He's alive again now, though." He hopes.
There is another pause.
"You…you're not…you didn't…"
"No, moron, I didn't die! Otherwise I wouldn't be phoning you. That's the miracle of modern live communication you're holding in your hand. I'm not a recording!"
There is another pause and he wonders for a moment and then-
"Like anyone would bother to record you!"
"Oh, and you would be such a draw!"
"Idiot!"
"Eloquent as ever!"
"Such a long word for this time of night!"
"I think you'll find it's morning."
"I think you'll find I'm going back to bed."
"Well, go!"
"I'm gone!"
He hangs up and grins. Rusty was right.
Now, he sat back at the hospital and he'd returned to the news that Rusty was gone missing in search of Vincente. Well, he guessed that made sense. Honestly, did any of them think he wouldn't?
He had bumped into her in the corridor and taken her to the cafeteria and they were sitting either side of a table with a tuna sandwich on one side and a green salad on the other. Neither was that hungry.
"I knew it was worse than he was telling," Tess said out of nowhere and he prepared himself to listen. "I can tell when Danny isn't being strictly truthful."
He harrumphed. He was willing to bet on Danny every time over that one.
"When he said he was staying…honestly, he stayed with my blessing. But then he didn't call. And the first night, well, OK. And then the second night. And the third."
Why didn't you phone him? He wanted to ask but he didn't. He'd learned long ago that women operated differently to men.
"And when he did call…" Tess was silent. She picked up her fork and played with a lettuce leaf.
"I do get it," she said fiercely and he nodded. She undoubtedly thought she did.
"I know that he's…I know he is what he is to Danny," and her voice swallowed a sob and then dropped down to a whisper, "I just want to know if I'll ever be."
With a sigh, he leaned forward and took her hands.
"I'm no good at this, Tess. My wife was so much better. But I'll try. Danny and Rusty have been together a long time. Not just known each other, been together. Lived together. In each other's constant company. That's a lifetime of history to be going up against. And you will never, ever win that one. But you really shouldn't be trying to."
Misunderstanding him, she looked up with such misery that he sighed aloud.
"Don't you see? Both of you. Equally. Always."
He looked at her and considered for a moment and then went on:
"When we hit Benedict's casinos, Danny didn't tell Rusty the truth about why he was there. Whom he was there for. Not until everything was well underway did Rusty find out."
Tess looked at him dubiously.
"Rusty could have walked off the job. Could have thrown it all over. Instead, he made it happen for him. Because he knows that you make Danny happy. And that is what they are all about, Tess. Once you've got that in your head, I'd say you can deal with things more easily."
He bit into the tuna and made a face. No one ever did a proper sandwich anymore.
"If anything happens, he'll hate me." It was bleak.
"No," he shook his head. "He loves you, remember? He'll blame himself. It's what the pair of them do."
He tried another bite and then gave up, part of him wondering when food ever got this plastic.
"Go back and sit with him, Tess. It's been a while. He needs one of you there."
As she left, Bobby appeared behind him and watched her go.
"She beating herself up?"
"Of course. Just as Rusty was earlier. Just as Danny is now."
"Danny'll forgive her, right? If anything…I mean he needs one of them…"
"Oh, Danny'll forgive her," he agreed and the emphasis in the sentence made Bobby give his arm a squeeze.
She sat on the toilet and pressed her head against the cubicle wall and ignored the part of her that thought about germs and cleanliness.
When Danny had suggested a trip out to see Rusty, she had genuinely been happy to see him go. The little conversations and half-conversations between them that she knew about and the ones she knew she didn't know about, happened regularly enough. But Danny hadn't seen Rusty since the wedding and that was a long time. She got that.
So Danny had disappeared for a few weeks and she had taken herself off to see her relatives. She'd taken her sketchbook and paints and visited some pretty places. She'd drawn up sweeping interior decoration plans that would transform their home into everything stylish and modern.
And she'd waited.
When he'd phoned, she'd thought the worst but she'd believed him when he'd said that Rusty needed him. And she'd trusted Rusty. Rusty who would send Danny home if there was any trouble. Because that's what she would do in his shoes. She would keep Danny safe.
And then she'd waited some more.
With the next phone call, she'd tried her level best not to sound needy and clingy and female. She tried not to sound accusing and angry and demanding. And she'd not asked him to come home in so many words because she just wasn't that brave.
Now, the waiting was worse.
Danny's last phone call had been more of the same. He was fine; he wasn't in trouble; he was coming home. Just not right away. And she was happy he'd called and it was good to know he was alright but he was still staying away. Still staying away because of Rusty.
The agony of waiting reached fever pitch.
And then Rusty had called.
She'd have known it anyway because it's him making the call but she can hear it straightaway in his voice.
"Rusty? Oh, God! No, Rusty, no…"
The tears start flowing even as Rusty starts telling her that Danny isn't dead, that he's alive, he's alive, but he's in a bad way.
"You need to be here."
And she'd dropped everything to come running.
She'd taken the only option - economy – and not minded. She'd eaten the packaged food mechanically and not complained. She'd sat next to the most boring woman in the world who only wanted to show her the 300 photos of her cat and not cared. All that mattered was Danny. All that ever mattered was Danny.
The flight seemed to take forever. It was certainly long enough for her to move out of deep shock and to start to think about how this had happened. Why this had happened. Because there was only one reason.
The man is beautiful. This is not the first time she's seen him but it is always the first thing she sees. The first thing, surely, that anyone sees. He walks with an easy grace and he seems to draw and shun every eye that's on him as he does so. For someone with such obvious beauty, he does not seem the slightest bit vain.
And he's walking up to Danny, walking up to him as if Danny is the only man in the room. His eyes are alive with…she can't work that out but amusement is in there and intelligence and warmth…and as she watches, she sees Danny's eyes: the exact same look is in them. And she realises that for Danny, this is the only man in the room, too.
She looks again sharply at the other. The way he looks at Danny…she is certain about Danny but she wonders whether the other is waiting…tempting…ready…
She's always wondered. Just a little. Even though she knows nothing's happened. Nothing has ever happened. Still a tiny part of her wonders whether Rusty wants it to. And an even tinier part wonders whether Danny wants it too.
She'd rushed through the airport and grabbed a cab and given the address of the hospital and galloped down corridors till she found the room and the doctor who gave her a brief version of events that she didn't really listen to except to hear how serious it all was and how her husband had nearly died and then she'd opened the door and seen him and the bottom had properly fallen out of her world.
Danny. He is all she can see. He fills her eyes. He is all her eyes can focus on. And then she sees his hand, fingers intertwined with… Of course, he was here. Of course, Danny was here and so he would be too.
Standing up, he tells her Danny's asleep as if she couldn't see that. He looks as beautiful as ever. He hasn't got a mark on him. Her husband is lying in bed in bandages and tubes and hurt and in so much pain and so nearly not with her but he is standing there without a scratch on him. He asks whether she wants a drink and she does, a stiff one, but she'll settle for a coffee.
They walk in silence to the vending machine and as they do so, all the anger and hurt and rejection of the past few days surges through her and mixes with the old fears and anxieties.
She buys herself a coffee and drinks it, too hot but she drinks it, not daring to look at him, hoping that the coffee will settle her fury because there is a part of her that knows what Danny would say, knows what Rusty would say, knows she should wait to hear what Danny and Rusty would say. There is a part of her that is arguing fiercely with herself. But that part won't win. Because the minute she throws the cup away and turns and sees him standing with apology and guilt all over him, the battle is lost.
She throws accusation after accusation at him. She punches him. He takes it all without a word. As if he wants her blame, wants to be punished. She guesses that Danny isn't throwing any fault in his direction. Well, that's OK, because she's ready to throw plenty.
She has no idea what they've been caught up in but she knows the answer before she asks him: he knew this was something that could happen. He knew. He knew and he risked Danny's life and she does not see how he could have done that because she never would.
And throughout this, there is still that little voice telling her she's got this wrong. Angrily, she pushes the little voice away. Pushes it away and uses the one thing she's got over him that he can never have, short of them getting married. The legal right to be beside Danny.
She'd closed the door on Rusty with a certain amount of satisfaction and she'd sat down next to Danny and the tears had come. Ridiculous, she'd told herself, that you could love another person so much that it hurt. Ridiculous that that other person could hurt you and you could still love so much.
He'd looked so pale. Blood loss, she heard the doctor saying, internal injuries, bruising… His face was relatively untouched. Just that swelling near his eye and that looked like it was going down.
No one has told her what's happened. No one has explained. And no one has seemed in a rush to help her understand. This was Danny's world. A man's world. And she hated being the outsider.
Right now, this world belonged to Danny and her.
As she sat there, the little voice started again. Because it knew that soon Danny would wake up and then explanations might be due even though she was sure Rusty wouldn't say a word. She cringed inside at Danny's face when he worked it all out. Because he would. He just would.
The waiting was purgatory.
She'd been sitting there forever when Danny finally woke and the relief and love coursed through her as he smiled up at her. God, she loved this man. This impossible, incorrigible man. And for a few brief, glorious moments, the world that consisted of the two of them continued to revolve.
Then Danny had asked for him. And he wouldn't let it go. She'd conceded defeat and walked out looking for him. He was bound to be slumped in a chair or leaning against a wall just waiting.
He was nowhere.
She shook Saul awake.
"Have you seen Rusty?"
Saul hadn't and she didn't understand the sudden flicker of fear that ran across his face.
"Danny wants him," she said heavily and Saul had followed her back into the room.
How Danny knew, she didn't know. He did. He always did and she'd known he would. She just didn't know how. She'd gotten defensive and then aggressive and tried to show that it was all because she loved him. She still didn't understand the fear that showed itself in Danny's face. She didn't understand the urgent exhortation to ring everyone. She just knew that Rusty had gone and Danny wanted him back and she wondered if she would ever command his love that way.
Saul had gone and Danny had slumped back into his pillows and looked at her with eyes that forgave and that were hurting so badly. And he'd talked some more around what had happened. She'd heard about the jury service and the rigged trial and the man who tried to be persuasive with Rusty and the plan to protect Rusty and the fact that it had backfired. Danny hadn't gone into details but she understood that this man was responsible. And now she understood where Rusty had gone.
The toilet walls were sterile and cold and she felt them close in on her.