Justice by InSilva

Disclaimer: I'd say I own no one that you recognise but I realise that relies on me having written people you recognise. :) So I'll say no Ocean's characters are mine.

A/N: I know this has been a little time coming. For some strange reason coughTellhimcough, I didn't feel up to tackling Tess and Rusty.

Oh, and acknowledging otherhawk for quite rightly mentioning Rusty's phone bill. :)

Epilogue

Morning arrived and Danny came to, his arms still wrapped round Rusty. Rusty was already awake and staring at the ceiling.

"How long have you been up?" Danny yawned, stretching.

"Little while."

There was something in Rusty's voice. Danny straightened up and looked properly at him.

What is it?

Rusty let out a sigh.

"I can't remember."

Something funny died on Danny's lips as he realised what Rusty meant.

"Maybe it's better that way, Rus," he suggested gently.

Rusty looked at him.

"Maybe it isn't," he said quietly.

When he was sure the time difference was working in Livingston's favour, Danny made the call.

"Please can you play everything back, Livingston?" he asked. "From the start."

They listened together. All the way from the bar to the beach. Danny closed his eyes as the waves lapped.

"I remember that," Rusty said softly, his eyes distant. "The water…he kept his foot on my shoulder…" He didn't see Danny's lips tighten. "The rest of it…" He shook his head. "I hear my voice. I hear his. That's as far as it goes."

"Er, Danny?" Livingston said hesitantly. "Do-do you want the stuff from the villa?"

Even as Rusty screwed his face up, Danny was saying, "No, Livingston, that's fine, thank you."

He put his phone away and looked at Rusty who still seemed a million miles away.

"I'm never gonna know, am I?" he said eventually. "Firsthand, I mean." He looked up at Danny. "It just feels weird. Incomplete."

And Danny could understand how that would just eat at Rusty.

The nurse whom they had discovered was called Ana-Luisa came to check Rusty's temperature and took his pulse and blushed prettily when she picked up his wrist and he asked her in Portuguese if she thought the beard suited him.

"No, sir," she said in careful English.

Rusty ran his hand through it and shot a glance at Danny.

"Kind of got attached to it."

Danny wasn't biting.

"Fine. Keep it," he said then added to Ana-Luisa. "When he's asleep, I'm going to shave it off myself."

Ana-Luisa giggled and left.

Danny hesitated.

"You going to be OK if I step out for a bit?"

Rusty heard the less than casual note in his voice and his eyes narrowed.

"You're going to eat," he accused.

Danny looked guilty. "I only had toast for breakfast."

It had been two buttered slices delivered by a thoughtful Ana-Luisa and eaten hurriedly with Rusty's eyes watching every mouthful.

There was a definite suggestion of sulk on Rusty's face.

"I won't be long," Danny offered conciliatorily.

I'll be timing you.

The room was empty when Danny returned.

"Rusty?"

"Bathroom."

"I've got some news. I spoke to Santos-"

He broke off as Rusty stepped out of the bathroom clean-shaven, the exposed parts of his face lighter than the rest of it. Danny winced at the other side effect of removing the beard.

"Rus…"

Rusty's fingers went up to his lips. Now the beard was gone, they seemed more raw than ever. And they'd started bleeding again.

Rusty shrugged. "Can't shave a beard without cracking lips."

Danny sighed.

"Santos," Rusty prompted, sitting down in a chair.

Reluctantly, Danny went on, "Vincente met up with a real friend of Marcello's."

Unexpected.

"Think his brother, Miguel, had a hand in the introduction. Guess there are some perks to being police chief."

Rusty considered for a moment and Danny knew he was thinking about Vincente's fate.

"He wouldn't have come after us, anyway," Rusty said. "It wouldn't have been…"

"Sportsmanlike?" Danny suggested, none too convinced.

"Expedient."

There was a pause and then Rusty said, "We should do something nice for them."

"Yes, we should."

In addition to the favours owed. Something to show their gratitude.

"Actually, I've got an idea for Santos and his son. And I took the liberty of asking Santos for suggestions for his brother."

"What did he say?"

Danny sat down on the edge of the bed and tried not to look at Rusty's mouth.

"Miguel has a penchant for skimming a little money where he can, cutting the odd deal…"

"Anything serious?"

Danny scratched the side of his face. "Embezzlement isn't ever going to be smiled on."

"So…?"

"So, I'm thinking he'll need an escape route. To the States. Just in case."

"Hmm," Rusty nodded. "Identity."

"Yeah." There was something in Danny's voice that made Rusty look more closely at him.

"You?"

"You needn't sound so surprised."

"You? Miguel Diaz?"

"Time Tess and I moved on anyway."

"Tess is going to be Mrs Diaz? I want to be there when you tell her."

Danny grinned.

They'd spent the afternoon with a game of Risk that Danny had found in a cupboard.

"Why isn't Greenland green?" Rusty pondered.

Danny had a different question.

"Is there a reason why you are piling armies on Kamchatka?"

"I like the name."

"You do know how to play this game, Rus?"

"Just roll the dice."

After the game which Rusty had improbably (according to Danny) and naturally (according to Rusty) won, they had watched a little television.

"The A-Team in Portuguese?" Danny wondered.

"All you need to know is that George has a plan and that they're gonna need to fly somewhere."

"And that Face is going to impersonate someone-"

"-badly-"

"-oh, you're just talking with a professional eye. You need to suspend your disbelief."

"This from a man who watches heist movies and criticises-"

"-no more than you do-"

"When?"

"Italian Job."

"Oh, that was crying out for – look, it's just not professional. You don't celebrate until…you can lose the smile right now."

Danny's grin widened.

What?

"Cabrillo Beach."

"That doesn't count! We still got the first edition!"

"Eventually."

Discussion followed on the complications brought about by relaxing at the wrong time and having a boisterous Labrador knock a hard-won prize off a cliff wall.

"You want dinner."

"I do," Danny admitted.

Rusty looked at the drip in his arm and this time the sulk had evolved into a pout.

"It doesn't even taste nice," he said plaintively.

"It's only till tomorrow, Rusty."

"Yeah," Rusty sighed gloomily. "That's what I'm thinking."

They laid side by side on the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

"Flights are tomorrow afternoon."

"Good." With feeling.

"Well…"

"Oh, yeah." Rusty sighed. "All of them."

"Yeah."

"And Tess."

"Yeah," Danny agreed heavily. "You know she's-"

"I can imagine."

"She really-"

"I'm sure."

"Rus…"

"It's fine." He looked at Danny. "It's always fine. You know it is."

And it was. And he knew it. And he leaned in a little closer to Rusty to show that he did.

The next day…

"You sure about this?"

"Stop fucking with me, Danny, and give it here."

"You want to put this in your mouth?"

"I am not asking again."

Rusty denied food and drink for two days was as ugly as it got. Sighing, Danny handed the milkshake over.

"It just looks so…pink."

"Yeah," Rusty said with relish and started sipping it.

His eyes closed and irregular, soft, little half-noises of pleasure filled the room until regretfully, he reached the end of the drink and sighed. He opened his eyes and found Danny staring at him.

What?

"You are the only man I know who gets a thrill like that from something like that. You should come with a rating."

"You don't like it, you can buy earplugs."

"I bought you another milkshake. Will that do?"

As Rusty drank the second drink – silently and with his eyes smiling and open wide and fixed on Danny – Danny studied him. The rest had done him good; done them both good if it came to it. They had both been stretched over the past couple of months and the recovery time had been welcome.

The bruises were healing and the burn was fading and Rusty's lips were finally crusting over. His stomach, he insisted, was ready to try solids. They were ready to go back to L.A..

"You fit?" Danny said, as Rusty drained the last pink drop.

Rusty looked at him and for a second, there was a glimpse of the physical and the mental anguish and then his face was clear and he smiled and Danny made a silent note to buy him whatever he wanted to eat and drink for the rest of the day.

It was evening when they got to the Standard. Arthur's jaw dropped as he saw Rusty's face.

"Mr Ryan! Whatever happened?"

"Little drinking contest, Arthur. Got out of hand."

Danny resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Drinking contest?" Arthur was mesmerised by Rusty's mouth.

"Yeah. Don't try the shotgun thing unless you're really not that drunk. And if you do, make sure there are no jagged edges on the can."

"OK, Mr Ryan…" Arthur looked as if he was never going to be experimenting in that way.

They headed to the lift and Arthur called after them.

"Mr Ryan? It's good to have you back."

There weren't any balloons or banners up but drinks were waiting and so was a range of food. More importantly, so was everyone.

With good grace, Rusty allowed himself to be embraced and punched on the shoulder and have his hand vigorously shaken. He smiled warmly at Tess as with eyes of guilt and regret and doing her best not to look at his lips, she placed a hesitant kiss on his cheek. If he was honest, it felt strange to have so much feeling visibly expressed.

He felt Danny hang back as others came forward and he saw Saul the other side of the room watching. He never needed it from either of them except maybe the odd occasion when he did. It was just always there, rich and flowing and bottomless.

"Rusty?" It was Livingston. "I just wanted to say-"

And he could read exactly what Livingston wanted to say. Something unnecessary about not finding him sooner.

"Livingston," he interrupted, "Danny told me what happened and I know that I wouldn't be standing here right now if it weren't for you. I'd be washed up on a shore. Thank you."

Livingston looked as if he might cry. "It was- oh, it was-"

"Well, it wasn't nothing exactly," Rusty said. "Because I do want to know what you're going to do about my phone bill."

Yen laughed and threw out a couple of comments. Rusty looked at him in disbelief.

"It's registered in Asia?"

Yen shrugged and Rusty shook his head and turned to Danny.

"We need to pull something just to cover minimum payment."

It was later. Danny and Tess had disappeared to their own suite and the others had started making farewell noises and then drifting away, just as they had from the Bellagio fountains.

Rusty was inwardly pleased to see Turk and Virgil leaving together.

"Did you give Anna-Mae a call, Turk?" he asked and noted Virgil's look of startled surprise.

Turk ran a hand through his hair sheepishly.

"I phoned her. She's hooked up with Gino." He shrugged and looked at Virgil. "Women."

"Her loss," Virgil nodded and it was Turk's turn to look surprised. "Unless, you know, she'd met you."

Turk stared at him. "You can be so hurtful."

Rusty saw Virgil blink.

"Personally, I'm just amazed you found anyone crazy enough to take you on," Turk continued. "She does have regular eye exams, right?"

The bickering could still be heard from the corridor and Danny and Rusty smiled separately and together.

"I thought..."

"Yeah. I thought too. It wasn't good, Tess."

"No."

"But we're through it." All of us.

"Yes."

And he saw how frightened she'd been and how brave she'd tried to be and was still trying to be and he kissed her long and slow and gently and they shut out the rest of the world for a while.

Eventually, it came down to Reuben – "I need to talk to you about how you're running this place. I'm sure you can cut your overheads. You call me." – and Linus – "I'm really glad you didn't-" "I am too, Linus. Thanks." – and that left Saul.

Rusty stood in front of him and suddenly felt very young.

"Robert Charles Ryan, I am an old man," Saul began. "And I think I have grown even older these past few weeks. Jogging through the streets of Rio is a pastime I do not intend to pursue."

Saul…

Saul reached out and gripped Rusty's arm. "You take good care of yourself, Rusty. You hear me? Because I don't have that many good thoughts in my life that I can afford to lose you."

Saul…I…

"I know, I know. It was still stupid, do you hear? You think I'm young enough that I can afford to have years taken off my life?"

"Saul…"

"You make sure the next time we see each other it's less fraught."

"I'll do my best."

And Saul left him standing with a fondness on his face that was rarely openly expressed.

"Rusty…?"

It was expected and yet he couldn't avoid the inner wince. Because he was almost certain what she was going to say. He turned round to acknowledge her with a smile.

"Rusty, what I said back at the hospital-"

"It's OK, Tess," he interrupted, wanting to cut things short for her sake as well as his.

"No, it isn't." And her voice was tough and surprising and he shut up fast.

She walked forward into the room and sat on the couch.

"Please," she said.

Tess. It had taken him so long to come to terms with her. Such a long time for him, at any rate. And even though he knew it was unfair, there had been times when he'd been tempted to lay a lot at her door. Danny going to jail, for example. He knew she blamed him – still – for Danny falling off the wagon and into jail. Funnily enough, he wanted to blame her for the exact same thing. Because without her around, there would have been no temperance oath to be broken, no itch that needed to be scratched, no partner to protect, no new people to screw things up.

He was tempted to blame her but he didn't not least because it would be pointless recrimination. Danny had made choices. Choices which had felt right at the time, no doubt. And Rusty understood that Tess had had as much influence over that as he himself had.

Time after Vegas and the Benedict job had helped. Three to six months had helped. And she was asking for the chance to get them back on that footing. He guessed he could do that. He sat and she flashed him a grateful look.

"What I said to you at the hospital," she began, "about Danny being hurt because of you."

Yeah…

"I meant it."

Huh.

"I would never let him walk into danger," she said. "Not if I could do something to stop it."

"Well, neither would I," Rusty pointed out, keeping the amusement off his face because Tess was serious. "It's just that sometimes he has a mind of his own on these things. And sometimes these things overtake us."

Overtake us…that was one way of putting it.

"He'd make the same decisions where you're concerned, Tess," he went on. "He really would. And you could try and shift him but he'd refuse to be shifted and you could try to get away from him but he'd find you."

Tess stared at him. And he could see she needed a little more convincing.

"The trouble is, Tess, firstly the most trouble you're likely to be in is" Benedict, he thought, "a dispute with a hardware store. And secondly, Danny and I have been working like this since…forever."

"On the edge?"

"If you like," he smiled. "It's a dangerous world. We knew it when we got into it. It hasn't got any safer."

He hesitated infinitesimally because it's what he would do to sell a line and he didn't mean for things to get that blurry. He decided to do it anyway and reached out and took her hand.

"I swear to you, Tess, that Danny's life matters to me."

Her eyes fell on his newly healing lips and she swallowed.

"I guess I know that, Rusty," she said quietly and leaned over and kissed his cheek. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "About the other stuff."

Rusty sat back and looked at her.

"I'm never going to take him from you, Tess."

"I know," she smiled. "And I'm never going to take him from you."

"I know."

And Danny walked in to find them safe in their knowledge, new and old.

Santos opened the envelope. Two cadeiras perpetuas for the Maracana. Seats that could not be bought for love nor money.

Miguel opened the envelope. There was a letter and details of how he could access the US version of Miguel Diaz if he needed to.

Both brothers smiled to themselves.

Weeks later…

The convertible looked out of place on the street. It was not a street for convertibles. It was a street for greyness and dust and eyes kept to pavements and peeling posters in shop windows that advertised out of date sales and events. It was a street with little cheer.

Two men were leaned up against the side of the convertible staring at a parking lot. Actually, if you regularly walked down that street and bothered to take the time to notice, you would see that the blond was staring at the parking lot, staring at it as if it had some great significance: the man with the dark hair was looking at the parking lot but watching the blond.

If you had been a denizen of that neighbourhood, you might have thought back to what had been in place before the parking lot: a few shops, a diner, several unappealing flats. Perhaps, you might think, the blond remembered that time. Certainly by the way he was fixed, you'd imagine he was caught up in memory.

After a time you might have heard the dark-haired man say, "Are we done?" and the blond reply, "Yeah".

But of course if you were a local, you wouldn't bother to take the time to notice. Because everyone round there keeps themselves to themselves.

A/N: And that really is that. Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed and followed. Really appreciated your company. And of course I dedicated this to otherhawk for her patience and support and general brilliance and nothing's changed. Thanks, mate.