Epic by InSilva

Disclaimer: didn't create any Ocean's characters.

A/N: warning for smattering of card porn. What? I like it. And Danny insists. ;)

Chapter Four: Uncovered


Reuben and Les had made their excuses and wandered away. Willy and Terry sat at the card table finishing their cigars and whiskies.

"Danny been working for you long?" Willy asked.

"Little while. He has his uses."

"Looked like he was making a good impression on Ryan."

"Like I said. He has his uses."

They smiled at each other.

Willy hesitated for a moment. "The cards fell fortunately tonight."

Terry snorted. "Not for me."

"Not for me either."

There was meaning in there and Terry frowned.

"You think someone was cheating? Tishkoff?"

"No. Not Tishkoff."

"Not smart enough?" Terry hadn't been impressed with the man.

"Smart enough not to try and pull a stunt like that on me."

"Then-"

"Wasn't the cattle king either. I thought it was for a while and I was watching him. But no."

"Well, it wasn't Danny."

"No," Willy agreed slowly. "No. I think Mr Rusty Ryan was playing tonight."

Terry thought about the flippant introduction and the ridiculous stories and the look in Rusty's eyes as he'd stared at him over the dinner table. Yes, perhaps he had been…

"I'll brief my man, Striker. Let him do some digging into Ryan and his background. However rich he is, maybe he needs a lesson or two on what's funny."

Willy nodded and looked satisfied then offered, "You want to grab a nightcap?"

"Why not?"


The lower decks were still busy with late-night revellers as they drifted into a bar. Danny didn't even think to question how Rusty knew there was a poker game going on in a back room. Some kind of instinct. Some kind of sixth sense.

"So where do we…what do we…?" Danny felt articulation slipping away from him as they walked up towards the doorway.

Rusty gave him a smile.

"You aren't going to do a thing."

"Sit back and enjoy the ride?"

"Something like that."

Rusty had gotten them into the game. Four good old boys who were welcoming enough, no doubt scenting rich pickings from the formal attire. As for the game itself…

Rusty had run it. Absolutely and completely in charge of the cards. People around the table won and lost and it was down to Rusty. Now that he knew what was going on, Danny could take time to appreciate the control and the technique on show. Rusty, in charge, orchestrating events, cards falling where Rusty wanted… Danny gave a sudden shiver. It was one of the most intense experiences he could ever remember. His eyes met Rusty's across the table and he saw the amusement and the acknowledgement. This was what he'd been missing.

They ducked out of the game when they were both ahead. Rusty had been restrained and Danny guessed that he didn't want any fallout that a remarkable lucky streak would bring.

"Not tonight," Rusty confirmed as they hit the fresh air again and Danny read the unspoken Not with you here.

He objected at once, frowning and grabbing Rusty's elbow.

"No point in courting trouble," Rusty said at once. "Not here and not tonight. Don't want you heading back to Terry in worse shape than when you left him."

"My choice," Danny said sharply.

Rusty smiled. "Only when you can deal like I can. Don't worry. I'll teach you."

The sulk and the pout were immediate.

"Oh, you need lessons in that too," Rusty grinned. He stopped and hesitated. "Guess this is where we say goodnight."

Two thoughts registered with Danny. They were in the vicinity of the store cupboard where Rusty undoubtedly had his clothes. And above that, he didn't want to say goodnight yet.

"Get your stuff and come back with me," he suggested.

Rusty cocked an eyebrow.

"You can be extremely masterful when you want to be. You know that?"

Danny grinned. "Shut up and grab your stuff."


Rusty was impressed with the mini-bar. It was hard not to be.

"Help yourself," Danny instructed. "Terry's paying."

"Well, in that case…"

Hands full of peanuts, Hershey's and whisky miniatures, Rusty headed back over to the easy chair. Danny had taken up residence on the chaise-longue.

"Nice." Rusty waved a hand at the surroundings. His foot nudged paperwork and something unexpected. "What's with the camera?"

"Terry was hoping for a photo opportunity with our UK visit. Bit of publicity for the internal newsletter."

"Did he get it?"

Danny shook his head. "Deal didn't actually get as far as he wanted."

"Good…?" Rusty suggested.

"Good," Danny agreed. He studied Rusty for a moment and then said quietly, "I enjoyed today."

Rusty nodded. He had too. "Tomorrow will be better."

Tomorrow was about Andrew Lee. Tomorrow was about working together. Tomorrow was about more of the amazing.


Willy was a man after his own heart as far as Terry was concerned. Money and conquest and winning. Driving for success. Willy was full of stories about his hotels and brisk business and recognition. If he were honest with himself, Terry craved a little of that recognition.

"These awards they give me," Willy said offhandedly. "I don't go looking for them, you understand. Do I turn them down? No. It wouldn't be polite."

Terry hesitated. "I'm…exploring opportunities at the moment."

Willy's expression became more attentive. "I'm always interested in discussing opportunities."


The whisky was gone. The peanuts and the Hershey's were a thing of the past and Rusty looked ruefully at the empty packets littering the table. Rusty peered at Danny. He looked like he was the right side of drunk still. Rusty felt the right side of drunk. Trouble was, the line between right and wrong could be very thin indeed.

For the third time, he went to run his hand over his hair and stopped. Damn pomade was a pain in the-

"Shower's through there," Danny said, waving a hand in the general direction of the en-suite.

"Right." Rusty nodded his thanks. He could do with a shower. Could do with a shave. He dug in his holdall for his washbag.

"I'll find more drinks," Danny said decisively.


Danny glanced up as Rusty emerged from the shower in a fluffy bathrobe, towelling off his hair. He looked younger than ever, blond hair falling around his face, face scraped clean, closer to twenty than twenty-five, looking vulnerable in a way that Danny had only glimpsed when Rusty'd been talking about what it was like to be alone.

"You got everything you need?" he asked and Rusty grinned.

"I'm wearing underwear if that was your question."

Danny smiled. "It wasn't. But that's good to know."

He gestured at the table. "Terry had more whisky. And nuts. And chocolate."

"Terry didn't ask what you wanted with fresh supplies?"

"Terry wasn't there."

"Oh. Well, that's…"

"Yeah."

"What's that?" Rusty asked curiously.

Danny held up his left hand, the necklace sparkling in his fingers.

"Terry bought it for Tess."

"That has to be the ugliest thing I've ever seen," Rusty said with feeling.

"Yeah. I thought so." Danny's smile slipped away. "I think she'll think so too."

Rusty reached out and touched the sparkle and Danny saw the hint of professional interest.

"It's worth thousands."

"It is," Rusty agreed.

"Someone would want it."

"I'm sure."

"Take it."

Danny let go of the diamonds and the sapphire and Rusty's hand closed round it.

"Weighs a ton," he remarked, holding the necklace up to the light. "I've never seen anything like it."

He made to hand it back to Danny and Danny pushed his hand away.

"I said take it."

He saw Rusty stare at him, startled.

"I thought about it while you were in the shower. It could work, couldn't it? I mean there has to be a market for it. It could even be broken down into smaller stones..." Danny's words tumbled over themselves.

"No."

Danny's turn to stare. "No?"

"No," Rusty said firmly. "Not like this."

"I'm giving it to you," Danny frowned. "It doesn't get any easier."

"Oh, Danny…" Rusty let the jewels run through his fingers. "It's not about the easy…it's never about the easy…" He sighed. "You don't think Terry would look at this again during the voyage? Get it out and show someone? No sign of breaking and entering. You don't think Terry would suspect it was down to you?"

He pushed the necklace into Danny's hands.

"Not like this," he said again.

"I'm giving you a fortune," Danny said unnecessarily. "You could take it and you could disappear and-"

Rusty laughed and Danny looked into blue eyes that thought that was the best joke they'd heard in a long time.

"I could," Rusty said softly. "You're right, I could. But I'm not going to."

Danny heard the promise and the happy thrill ran through him. Then he gazed down at the Heart of the Ocean and sighed. It seemed like Tess was destined to end up with this monstrosity.

"I didn't say 'No' to the idea," Rusty murmured. "We just need to have a better plan."

"What sort of plan?"

"I'll leave that one to you," Rusty grinned and ran a hand through his newly shampooed hair. The scent of oranges filled the air. "Kind of think that's your specialty."


"Danny."

His name. Someone calling his name and there was a hint of exasperation in there that suggested the name had been repeated a few times without result. With difficulty, Danny struggled back into consciousness and tried to ignore the thump of the headache. It was tricky. With a rush of realisation, he knew the voice belonged to Terry.

He pushed back the duvet and propped himself up on one elbow. Sure enough, Terry was stood at the foot of the bed. Danny frowned and blinked. The headache was complaining about being ignored and mounting a campaign for recognition. Possibly some sort of billboard was going to be involved.

"Terry?" he croaked and cleared his throat. "Terry. What…"

"It's gone nine," Terry said with disapproval in his voice. "Are you thinking of staying in bed all day?"

It was…oh, it was morning. Danny tried to think back to the previous night. There'd been the dinner, there'd been poker, there'd been Rusty. Rusty. And they'd come back and there'd been the mini-bar… He winced. There'd been the mini-bar. And there'd been the Heart of the Ocean…

Danny froze. He was almost certain that he'd put the necklace back again. Yes, yes… The image came to his mind of Rusty and him giggling as they had pushed the door of the safe shut. Yes.

"Danny." Terry was waiting.

"I'm getting up." He sat up and regretted it. The headache had moved on to a full-blown TV commercial.

"Take your time," Terry said with vague distaste. "I'm off to see Willy Bank. He has some ideas around investments that I want to talk through with him. I'll catch up with you later." He looked round at the floor and the distaste was now written all over his face. "And for God's sake, clear up this mess."

The door closed behind him and Danny exhaled slowly then frowned. Rusty. He couldn't remember actually saying goodnight to him. And then, as the headache launched into a Hollywood movie, the duvet next to him rustled and a mop of blond hair appeared.

Rusty squinted at him with the look of someone whose own headache was demanding top billing on the movie poster.

"Morning," Rusty managed.

Danny stared at him.

"Morning," he replied and there were a whole load of questions in the salutation.

A bare arm appeared over the top of the duvet and Danny's eyebrows shot up. The headache was forgotten.

"We didn't-"

"We didn't," Rusty assured him.

Right. Good. Probably. Danny thought he ought to remember something like that.

"Then how…what…"

Rusty looked like he might sit up and then thought better of it and settled down again on the pillow.

"We drank a lot."

Danny remembered the drinking.

"You showed me the necklace."

He remembered the necklace. The necklace that was… He swallowed.

"You're wearing the necklace."

"Am I?" Rusty sounded surprised. "Huh. So I am."

A memory tickled the back of Danny's mind. He'd worn the necklace too. And then…

"Oh, fuck!"

He was out of the bed and running to the adjoining door ignoring the puzzled "Danny?" behind him. Terry's suite was empty which was lucky. Danny didn't really want to explain why he was charging into Terry's bedroom wearing only boxers. He dropped to his knees and opened the safe and pulled out the Polaroid.

"Fuck." It was Rusty behind him and there was amusement and apology all wrapped up in the word. "I think we thought it was a good idea at the time."

Danny looked down at himself stretched out on the chaise longue, hand resting on his chest, wearing the Heart of the Ocean and not a lot else. They had thought it was a good idea. Something about the outrageous and the daring and the look on Terry's face and thank God he'd remembered.

"Here."

Rusty handed him the jewels and Danny replaced them in their box and shut up the safe. He straightened up.

"You stayed," he said.

"So I did." Rusty's smile reached all the way up to his eyes. He nodded at the photo. "We sending that in to 'Playgirl'?"

Danny snorted.


They'd dressed – Rusty smoothing his way into the turquoise silk – and headed out. Danny had been wondering about trying his hand at bagel acquisition but Rusty had stopped dead at the cinema.

"Spaghetti Western marathon?" Danny queried.

Rusty was staring at the posters. "There'd be popcorn."

"Popcorn."

"And hot dogs."

"OK."

"And ice-cream."

"Whole three course meal."

"Yeah. And Ennio Morricone."

"Enough. You had me at popcorn." Danny looked up at Clint. "Well, as long as no one's laughing at my mule."


Terry had bought Willy lunch. The discussions had been very interesting indeed. The casino business appeared a lucrative area of operations and he couldn't think why he hadn't considered it before.

"The house never loses," Willy stated and Terry must have let slip a momentary doubt in his expression.

Willy smiled. "You ever see a poor casino boss?"

No, he supposed he hadn't.

"Casinos thrive on people's greed. And people are always greedy."

The prospect of going into partnership with Willy Bank seemed attractive indeed. His money, Willy's mentoring… Striker appeared and dissipated the daydream.

"Can I have a word, sir?"

The word was not good. The word was that Rusty Ryan was nowhere to be found on the passenger register. Even worse, Striker had put out some feelers amongst his contacts. Robert Charles "Rusty" Ryan had a reputation for being in the wrong place at the right time. Nothing that could actually be pinned on him but enough rumours that couldn't all be untrue.

"He's a conman," Terry said, his voice low and full of anger.

"It certainly looks that way, Mr Benedict."

Controlling the rage, Terry closed his eyes for a long moment then opened them again.

"I don't like conmen," he said. "I don't want conmen anywhere near me."

He thought about Ryan conning his way on to the captain's table, the look in his eyes that told Terry he'd sniffed out an opportunity in Danny, a way in to him… He thought about the overt challenge in Rusty's manner. He thought about the money he'd lost at the poker table. Terry's mouth twisted.

"I think I should like you to find Ryan and bring him to me, Striker. I feel the need to explain in detail what a mistake he's made."

"My pleasure, Mr Benedict," Striker said with deference and disappeared.


A/N: er, just to mention that this fic was kickstarted by someone mentioning naked!Danny wearing the necklace. Mate, you are ever the inspiration. ;)