Epic by InSilva

Disclaimer: oh, don't own anything of an original Ocean's nature. Apart from the painting shown on my profile. *happy sigh*

A/N: little "Princess Bride" echo in here. Am sure those who know the film'll spot it. Danny is Buttercup. *giggling*

Chapter Five: Confrontation


There was a decision to be made over chocolate covered in crispy shells and sweet popcorn. They jointly mused and then Danny reached out, took Rusty's hand and carefully tipped the chocolate into the popcorn.

"Good call," Rusty approved, throwing a handful of the combination into his mouth.

"I'm full of good ideas."

There was a handful of other people in the cinema and it felt like their own private showing. They settled back in their seats and watched the opening credits of "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly".

Rusty hesitated and then decided what the hell.

"Terry hasn't called," he murmured, glancing sideways. He caught the slight shift in Danny's expression. "Has he?"

"He probably has," Danny whispered back. He turned his head towards Rusty. "Turned my phone off."

Rusty studied his face and read the reason. Yesterday, not talking to Terry had been Rusty's decision. Today, it was Danny's. Rusty smiled and saw the smile returned and it was about liberation and happiness and together. They turned back to the screen and the smiles remained.


Striker was working his way methodically through the ship looking for the conman who had dared to take on Terry Benedict. His contacts had been helpful and explicit.

"If you find that smart-mouthed, thieving bastard," Travers Drake had told him, "I would be extremely grateful if you would kick him hard somewhere it hurts. Actually forget that. Just cut them off."

Striker had smiled. No problem with that. As long as Mr Benedict agreed.

He had a description of Ryan to work on – pretty, blond, startling wardrobe – and supplementary – moves quicker than you'd think, hits harder than you'd imagine. He also had a picture that had been texted to him in which it was clear that Ryan was indeed pretty and blond and slim. Looked like he might run away from a gust of wind. Striker understood why he might be easily underestimated and promised himself he wouldn't make the same mistake.


In his head, there was a clock running. Everything precise and timed to perfection. He sat counting seconds and minutes and took pride in the fact that when he did look at his watch, he was accurate.

The operation depended on accuracy. Accuracy and timing and he wouldn't be the one to let them down.


Danny and Rusty exited the cinema mid-afternoon and blinked their way out into the sunshine.

"So, we pick up the uniforms-"

"-we introduce ourselves to Andrew Lee-"

"-we explain that there has been an issue with the cabin safes-"

"-we check his safe-"

"-we reassure him-"

"-we offer-"

"-safe custody-"

"-receipt-"

"-yeah."

They looked at each other. Rusty shook his head with a grin.

"What?"

"You make it sound simple," he admitted and the blood was singing through him, the buzz building.

Danny grinned too, the excitement reflected back.

"We'll make it simple," he told Rusty.


Nonchalantly, Willy putted the golf ball into the hole.

"You have a good eye," Terry complimented him.

"I believe I do," Willy agreed. "Stands me in good stead. So. This idea…this project…it appeals?"

Terry nodded. "It appeals. I think there's definite synergy." He considered for a moment. "You think we can call it that? Synergy?"

"The casino?"

"Sounds modern. Stylish."

Willy's eyes took a second to agree. "Sure. We can call it what you like."

Until it was built, of course.


Mr Andrew Lee had been in turn, surprised, worried and relieved. They walked away, having had the little gold statue practically forced into their hands.

"He was very…"

"He was. Now you know why I wanted to rob him." Rusty looked at their prize and then at the stripes on Danny's uniform. "Tell me again why you were the ranking officer."

"Natural authority?" Danny tried but failed to look modest.

Rusty's lips twitched. "I have to think you just don't like taking orders."

There was a flash of pain on Danny's face and instantly Rusty opened his mouth to apologise but Danny shook his head.

"You're right. I hate it."

Rusty nodded and promised him without words that things were going to be different. They would be. Danny wasn't going to be alone anymore.

They changed back out of the uniforms and Rusty carefully wrapped the statue up and hid it in the store cupboard. Their first proper job and the elation was fizzing away inside him like an Alka-Seltzer in a glass of water.

"You ready for food yet?" Danny asked as they strolled along the deck in the late sunshine. "I mean it must be at least an hour since you ate."

Rusty's comeback died on his lips. Danny twisted his head round to see why and Rusty was already moving, pulling his arm, encouraging flight.

Andrew Lee and a group of ship's personnel were wandering their way and there was no time to wonder how or why. There was only time to move and run.


The shout echoing in their ears, they ducked into the inner corridors, staying one step ahead of pursuit but not daring to try a cabin. Better to keep on the move. Bad enough to be on a ship of no escape. Worse to be trapped further.

A moment's respite saw them leaning, panting, listening for footsteps. Danny's eyes fell on the internal map of the ship.

"This way," Danny said hurriedly. "I know where we can hide."

The cargo hold was further down in the body of the ship and it held crates and cars. They ran down the iron staircase, Danny making a beeline for the limousine. He patted his pocket in vain for the spare key.

Rusty must have seen the panic.

"I'm on it," Rusty told him, producing a thin piece of metal from his pocket.

Bending down, he worked on the lock as Danny kept an eye on the door for their pursuers. They were close behind, so close but if they could get inside then maybe…maybe…

"Got it." Rusty straightened up and clicked the door to the limo open.

Danny bundled him into the car and shut the door even as the men appeared at the top of the stairs. He pushed Rusty flat to the seat and lay beside him, his body overlapping Rusty's as they peered through the windows. The men were hesitating and conferring and then slowly walked down the steps and damn it, they were picking a path towards the limousine. Oh, hell.

Rusty scrabbled round underneath him.

"Strip," Rusty said tersely.

"What?"

Rusty shrugged his way out of his jacket and dropped it in the footwell and started to unbutton his shirt from the bottom up.

"Strip," he said again.

Danny didn't need to be told a third time. He lost his jacket and hauled his turtleneck over his head. They worked in silent and furious co-ordination, Rusty unbuckling his belt and pulling his legs free from his pants and Danny following suit.

Danny risked a glance out of the window, steamed up with the heat rolling off their bodies. The men were almost upon them and maybe they hadn't seen enough of them to know whom they were following and maybe this would be enough to convince them that they were mistaken-

"You OK with this?" Rusty said suddenly, drawing him out of his thoughts, and Danny laughed.

Then Rusty's mouth was on his, demanding and ardent and Rusty's fingers were wrapped in his hair and his own arms were around Rusty and his own mouth was insistent and he was forgetting to think and his fingers were running over bare shoulderskin and he could taste freedom and passion and-

The door to the limo was suddenly wrenched open and a hand fell on his shoulder. Danny broke the kiss and fixed the intruder with a fierce look full of indignation and outrage.

"Get the fuck out and close the door behind you!"

Muttering apologies about mistaken identities , the man backed away and the door closed and as it did so, Danny saw Striker standing at the back of the little crowd. Fuck. He sat up on the back seat and Rusty swung himself upright alongside him.

"What is it?" Rusty asked.

Danny peered again through the steamed up window. Striker was still there. On the phone.

"Fuck," Danny said again, slamming his palm into the window.

"The chauffeur?" Rusty was looking now too.

"Striker. Terry's right-hand man."

"Thought that was you."

"Terry's other right-hand man. Enforcement."

There was an almost-polite knock on the window and then they could hear Striker.

"Mr Benedict requests the pleasure."

Danny sighed. All good things…

"Tell Terry I'll be there."

"With all due respect, sir, Mr Benedict requests the pleasure of the other gentleman's company too."

Rusty looked at Danny.

Well, fuck.


They'd dressed and stepped outside and Striker was waiting.

"Found some new friends, Striker?" Danny nodded at the two large crewmen standing next to him with encouraging smiles.

"Looks like we've all been doing that, sir." Striker's eyes were on Rusty and Danny kept the emotion from his face.

"Rusty doesn't need to come with us, Striker." He would face Terry. He would take whatever Terry wanted to hand out.

"Mr Benedict was insistent. Mr Ryan understands, I'm sure."

Danny opened his mouth but Rusty leaned in closely, his shoulder against Danny's, silencing the protest. Danny understood the message. They were in this together. And actually…actually, what was the issue here? Terry had told him to spend time with Rusty, Terry had had his own ideas of what Rusty was after and he'd told Danny to go along with them…

"Alright. Let's go and find Terry."


Terry was in his cabin and he offered up a cold smile when he saw them both walk through the door accompanied by Striker and his two men.

"Ah, Danny. Yet again, you find something more important to do than to answer the phone to me." His gaze fell on Rusty. "Or is that someone more important?"

"Rusty isn't-"

"Rusty Ryan. Beggar. Liar. Conman. Thief." Terry's eyes were hard. "This what you do? Worm your way into someone's bed and confidence? You think this was an easy way in?"

"Terry-" Danny began.

"You will shut the fuck up," Terry suggested without heat. "I'm addressing the man who was foolish enough to think I was a fool."

He jerked his head and the crewmen grabbed Rusty's arms. Danny moved forward to object but Striker laid a warning hand on his shoulder.

"I wouldn't," Striker said, his hand tightening.

"You picked the wrong man to try and con." Terry was stood right in front of Rusty, doing his best to intimidate.

"I'm not afraid of you," Rusty was saying and he was saying it like he meant it. He really wasn't frightened of Terry and Danny looked at Terry and saw Terry's eyes narrow. Everyone with any kind of sense took Terry seriously.

"Listen to me, you little…" Terry's eyes flicked over to Danny and then back again. "Help me out here. What do I call you exactly? Slut? Whore? Trick?"

Without even having to think about it, Danny had pulled free and sent his fist crashing into Terry's jaw and then Striker's arms were wrapped round him and dragging him away. Danny saw the unfriendly uniforms tighten their grip on Rusty's arms as he struggled fruitlessly in their grasp.

Terry fetched out a handkerchief and dabbed at the blood on his lip, glancing over at Danny with hooded eyes before standing in front of Rusty, his face in Rusty's face.

"As I was saying. You little slut, you little whore, you little one-trick trick…you can roll around with whomever you like on this ship and anywhere else if it comes to that. You can wave your ass in the air and you can get down on your knees and please and I will not give a damn. But you do not come anywhere near Danny or myself again. You understand?"

Danny saw Rusty's mouth tighten and he knew the next sequence of events before they happened. Rusty would spit out defiance at Terry and Terry would smile that cyanide smile and let him go and then set Striker after him and by morning, the ship would carry one less conman. He had to act. He had to stop that happening.

"Do you give me your word?" Danny said desperately and both Terry and Rusty's heads snapped round.

"Do you give me your word," Danny asked again, tightness in his voice and Rusty was frowning and Terry's eyes were suddenly bright and Danny could see he knew what Danny was asking and what Danny was offering.

"Yes."

One word. One word and it was going to shape his destiny and his future and he couldn't even look at Rusty, couldn't bear to see the incomprehension and the betrayal. He nodded curtly at Terry who gestured to Striker and Danny was free.

"Danny…?" Rusty sounded unsure what had just been agreed.

"Why don't you go and wait next door, Danny?" Terry said softly.

He still couldn't look at Rusty. Still couldn't bear to look at him. Instead, he turned and walked wordlessly away from happiness and trust and love, trying not to hear Rusty's bewildered "Danny!" that trailed after him.


The adjoining door shut behind Danny and Rusty glared at Terry. He wasn't certain what had just happened but he had a nasty feeling that he himself was being used as leverage.

"I meant what I said," Rusty spat. "I'm not afraid of you, Terry. Neither is Danny."

"Oh, Danny is afraid of me," Terry contradicted him. "I can assure you of that. Danny is very afraid of what I can do. He's known me a while now and he knows my reach is long and deadly. Now, I've made a promise to him and while it pains me to keep it, I will keep it."

A promise. It wasn't too hard to guess what.

Rusty bared his teeth at him. "Bet that just breaks your heart."

"More than you could imagine," Terry assured him. He turned to Striker. "I would like not to see Mr Ryan again for the remainder of this voyage. In fact, it would please me if it were some time before he found his way off this ship. I like the thought of him crossing the Atlantic a couple of times before he is discovered."

"Certainly, Mr Benedict."

Striker nodded at the men holding Rusty and they dragged him, swearing and kicking, back out of the room, Striker following. The last thing Rusty saw as the door closed was Terry, the self-satisfied smile blooming on his face.


Danny was sat in his cabin in the easy chair, feeling like he'd just gambled and lost the big pot. The sudden Rustylack was a physical ache. He turned his head as Terry entered and watched him walk slowly over and lean up against the table at the side of the room.

"Slim, blond and pretty? Really, Danny? Is that what does it for you?"

He bit his lip and tried not to give Terry the satisfaction of seeing the words bite.

"I mean, I can get that for you if that's what you want."

There was a sincerity in there that startled him and he stared at Terry. Oh... Oh... Terry meant it. Terry really meant it.

"If that's what you want, I can get any number of discreet whores for you who'll be willing to do whatever you want them to do. Though preferably not in the back of my limousine."

Terry flashed him a smile and Danny realised that qualified as a joke.

"Just say the word, Danny. If that makes you happy-"

"No," he ground out. "It doesn't and that's not what this is about."

Terry's eyes narrowed. "This is just about him? Well, now you've fucked him, it's over with, right?"

Danny gritted his teeth.

"You've won, Terry-"

"-I always do-"

"-why is that never enough?"

Terry exhaled slowly and walked forward until he was standing over Danny, looking down at him.

"I want us to be perfectly clear on what we've just agreed. You toe the line, Danny. When I say "Jump", I want your feet off the ground before you ask "How high?". If that doesn't happen, I will have your little friend found and given a fuck that he'll remember for the rest of his life however short that might subsequently be." Terry's eyes bored into Danny. "Yes?"

Nausea rose through him and he couldn't answer for the bile in his mouth. He swallowed hard.

"Yes?" Terry asked again and Danny hated the patient inevitability in there.

"Yes," he whispered.

"Good," Terry said briskly. "We can start by discussing our approach to the Linson Davis Corporation over supper."