A/N: Been a while since I updated this...the last chapter ended with Danny regaining his memories of Rusty and then Steven, Willy, Bill and Harry appearing in a bar with guns.
People were screaming. Danny had to admit that seemed a fairly sensible reaction to the appearance of men with guns. He supposed that they should be grateful that so far, no-one in the bar seemed to have produced a gun of their own. The last thing he needed right now was to be involved in a shoot-out at the OK Corral.
"Everyone shut up!" Willy yelled, waving his gun at the rest of the bar. "All you people, down on the floor!"
There was a moment of frightened shuffling, and then they were the only ones left standing.
Steven was looking from Danny to Rusty, a slight smile on his face. "Well, well, well. Guess you've remembered who you are, huh? Unless you're going to try and tell me that you just make friends really easily?"
He was. He really, really was. He let go of Rusty's arms and stepped back immediately. "I just met him today," he insisted, and oddly enough that was almost true, from a certain point of view. "He doesn't know anything."
"Uh huh." Steven laughed disbelievingly. "I don't even smile at my old lady like that."
"Well you don't have to with blow-up dolls," Rusty remarked understandingly and Danny grinned.
"No wonder he's looking so deflated," he commented.
Steven took a threatening step forwards. "The next guy who makes a funny remark is getting a bullet. We clear?"
Like crystal. He nodded silently. Rusty just smiled and Danny remembered telling him about Steven and about Willy and the feeling of dread was immense and the silent plea was immediate.
"Good," Steven glanced over his shoulder at Bill, Willy and Harry. "Cuff 'em and stick them in the van."
There was a moment of uncertainty.
"Both of them?" Bill said eventually.
"Yes, both of them," Steven replied with exaggerated patience. "The other one might know something. And besides, this one seems attached to him."
Danny managed to keep the moment of agony hidden. They were going to take Rusty because of him. He'd only just remembered Rusty, only just got Rusty back in his head, and it wasn't supposed to go like that.
Bill frowned unhappily. "But...we only got one pair of handcuffs."
Danny resisted the urge to look at Rusty. Resisted the urge to share in the moment of incredulity and mild hysteria.
"Do I have to think of everything?" Steven demanded, snatching a woman's purse off the floor. With a quick movement he tore the strap and handed it to Bill. "Use that! Or do I need to tell you how to tie a knot as well?"
"Leather," Rusty remarked. "Kinky. And then Bill was standing beside Rusty, pulling his hands behind his back, and Danny felt the brush of steel against his own skin and Willy was twisting his wrists painfully.
"You made us look like idiots, you know that?" Willy hissed.
"Didn't know you needed any help," Danny managed, and the punch was both sudden and expected and he doubled up painfully.
He stood up just in time to see Bill holding Rusty back, and he glared at Rusty, silently conveying the message that maybe taking on someone with both hands tied behind his back wasn't the best idea Rusty had ever had.
Rusty listened to him and Danny tried not to let the joy of memory shine too vivid.
They were bundled into the back of a van waiting outside, and Danny could remember that this had happened before, once, sometime, but he couldn't remember times or faces or consequences, just fear and worry and Rusty, sunshine in the fog.
"Danny." Rusty whispered his name urgently and he realised that he was standing in the middle of the floor and, by the scowling and the muttering, Willy and Bill would quite like it if he sat down right about now.
The doors were closed. There was no opportunity that he could see and he sat down heavily beside Rusty and acknowledged the worry without looking, offered reassurance as best he could.
"So sorry, gentlemen," he said, smiling brightly at the guns in their hands. "I was waiting for someone to offer to take my hat."
Willy frowned suspiciously. "You're not wearing a hat."
"Really?" Danny asked, wide-eyed.
"Will you shut up back there?" Steven bellowed from the front. "Don't talk to them. Don't listen to them. And if they give you any trouble, shoot the friend."
Danny kept his face blank. There'd be no trouble. Rusty was all he had, all he needed, and anxiety and protective instincts raged fiercely and he was aware of Rusty glancing uneasily at him.
"Thought you said that the friend might know something," Bill called through.
"Well, shoot him in the leg," Steven answered irritably.
The van was moving. Danny did his best to brace himself against the wall and against Rusty.
Rusty.
It was difficult to focus on anything else. Five days of nothing, of scrabbling desperately for even the smallest of memories, of knowing nothing, of trusting nothing, and now his mind was swamped with image and emotion, and he could barely look at Rusty for fear of being overwhelmed.
Now he couldn't even imagine how he couldn't have known who Rusty was immediately. He should've been able to sense it. The knowledge seemed as solid as stone and as incontrovertible as gravity, and he looked back over the last few days with a feeling of horror and confusion. He remembered the first time Rusty had found him, remembered the suspicion and the accusation. He remembered trying to run away from Rusty, remembered telling Rusty that he didn't want to know him. He remembered Rusty getting shot and thinking he'd known, and he'd been concerned but he hadn't been...
He frowned. Glanced quickly over to the other side of the van. Willy and Bill were wrapped up in their own conversation. Good.
He glared at Rusty. "Superglue?" he hissed.
Rusty looked momentarily puzzled then unrepentant. "Yeah. It worked."
Danny looked at him. His elbow was pushed in tight against his side. Like he desperately wanted to scratch but couldn't. "Superglue?" he whispered again. "You know - "
" - this really the time to be having this conversation?" Rusty interrupted quickly.
They really didn't have anything else to do. And this was fresh in his head. "You know damned well that if I'd known..." He paused. "If I'd been myself I'd never have let you get away with that." He might not know much else, but he knew he'd have dragged Rusty to a doctor.
There was a look and Rusty was stubborn. "There were other things going on," he said, and there was a look in his eyes that reminded Danny that there were still other things going on.
He wondered where they were being taken. Wondered what was going to happen. Somehow, he doubted that they were going to be invited for coffee and cake. Like before, there was going to be pain, and it would be better this time because he had Rusty and it would be so much worse this time because Rusty would be there.
Impossible not to remember the chop shop and the soldering iron. His chest hurt, imagining Rusty in his place.
And last time he'd been lucky to escape. They couldn't count on that.
Broken threads of memory wove their way through his head. Narrow escapes and stolen chances. Rusty laughing as they ran.
"We make our own luck," Rusty murmured to him. "Remember?"
He nodded and Rusty smiled. They'd take any opportunity they could.
By the time, barely ten minutes later, that the van swerved down a steep slope and screeched to a halt, he and Rusty were talking quietly and animatedly about the likelihood of Lassie having been trained to push Timmy down the well.
" - no, it can't be a coincidence," he insisted, ignoring the sound of doors opening and guns being cocked. "And no dog is naturally that evil - "
Rusty frowned. " - the ones in The Omen seemed pretty - "
" - yeah, but they weren't actually - "
"Come on," Willy snarled, and he grabbed Rusty's arm and hauled him up roughly. Glaring after him, biting back the need to scream at Willy, to demand that he take his hands off Rusty right that instant, Danny scrambled to his feet and followed them.
They were in an underground parking lot. More than that he wasn't sure of.
"Mackenzie's building," Rusty told him in a low voice, leaning in close.
"That's right," Harry told them, pulling him away, pulling them apart. "The boss wants to see your personally."
"Oh, we're honoured," Rusty grinned brightly. "Should we bow or curtsey?"
He winced as the fist connected with Rusty's jaw, and he stepped forwards as Rusty stumbled. "Would you keep your mouth shut?" he hissed, as they were dragged towards the elevators.
The look that Rusty shot him was full of dark amusement and also full of never.
Fourth floor and even though Rusty hadn't told him, Danny had to guess that this was Mackenzie's office.
Few days ago he'd been here stealing the pot. Nothing looked even slightly familiar. Nothing triggered even the slightest of memories. He might as well have never been here in his life.
There was no one sitting behind the desk. The office was empty and Steven seemed nervous, pacing up and down while Bill, Willy and Harry kept their guns trained on him and Rusty.
He glanced casually at the desk and smiled inwardly at the bright yellow mug with the smiley face. Maybe he didn't remember the plan but it was nice to know that it had worked right up until the point where it really hadn't.
"Where is he?" Steven muttered agitatedly, apparently to himself. "Where is he?"
"He's probably busy," Billy suggested hesitantly.
"I told him..." Steven broke off, shaking his head. "God, if you fuckers make me look bad one more time..."
The door opened and a tall, beefy, well-dressed man swept in and sat down behind the desk without giving any of them so much as a glance.
Mackenzie, he presumed.
As he watched, the man pulled a filofax towards him and started noting something down.
Steven cleared his throat nervously. "Mr Mackenzie? Uh, Mr Mackenzie?"
"Why are there two men in my office?" Mackenzie asked without looking up.
"This is the thief, Mr Mackenzie," Steven explained eagerly. "We...I caught him. He can tell us where Morgan's list is."
At that, Mackenzie did look up, neatly dropping his pen and steepling his hands in front of him. "Why are there two men in my office when I asked you to find one?"
Danny could hear disconcerted shuffling behind him.
"He...that is, the other one was with him when we found them," Steven said hesitantly. "I...we figured he might know something. If the other one doesn't remember. They seemed...close."
"He doesn't know anything," Danny said immediately and as convincingly as he knew how, fully aware of the unhappy disapproval from Rusty. He didn't care that it was stupid. He didn't care that it would never work. He had to try. "I only just met him, he's not part of any of this. It's me you want."
Slowly, Mackenzie turned his head and looked at Danny, fixing him with a long and thoughtful stare. Danny met it evenly and sold the lie as truth.
Without taking his eyes off Danny, Mackenzie indicated Willy and Bill. "Take the spare down to the basement," he said absently, waving a negligent hand. "Hurt him. Make sure he tells you everything he knows."
"No!" Danny yelled, and he spun round and Rusty was being dragged away by Willy and Bill, and they were eager, and Rusty's eyes were on his, and there was warning and apology and strength and love, and Danny was never going to say goodbye. "No!"
The door slammed behind them and it was only then that Danny realised that Harry was holding him back with bruising strength.
"Only just met him," Mackenzie mused. "Really."
Danny turned back round, fierce and defiant and glaring. "Let him go!"
"You could just tell me everything now," Mackenzie suggested. "It would save me a lot of trouble. Save you and your friend a lot of pain. Where's the list?"
The list would be in police hands by now. And if he told them that then they would have no more use for him and Rusty. And that didn't mean they'd be let go.
His mouth shut tight, he shook his head.
Mackenzie sighed. "Why do people always insist on being difficult?" he lamented. "I don't have time for this." He looked at Harry and Steven. "Get him ready."
He tried to run when they took the cuffs off. Tried to fight. Nothing worked and he found himself tied to a low wooden chair. The ropes were tight and the echo back to last time was inescapable.
He was afraid. He didn't want to admit it, but he was afraid. And his fear in the face of imminent pain was nothing compared to the terror and anguish at what Rusty might be facing. Hurt him, Mackenzie had said, and Danny's imagination was working overtime.
Rusty he screamed, deep inside his mind, and there was no answer.
Mackenzie stood in front of him, frowning and holding a pencil. "Let's get started. Are you going to tell me where the list is?"
"I don't know," he said immediately. "They must've told you. I don't remember anything."
Mackenzie nodded. "I'm afraid I don't believe you," he said, and he leaned forwards and gently slid the point of the pencil inside Danny's ear and rested the heel of his hand against the base. "This is going to hurt a lot."
Danny could feel the pressure against his eardrum. He tried not to flinch. He could already imagine Mackenzie's hand flying back, hammering the pencil home. This was going to hurt a lot.
He swallowed. "Fuck you," he said, and maybe if he was stubborn enough and obnoxious enough, maybe they'd leave Rusty alone. "You can all rot in hell." His voice was steady, at least.
Mackenzie's eyes were cold, and he pushed the pencil forwards minutely, and Danny was sure that his ear was bleeding, and then, distantly, he heard the sound of shouting and a brief burst of gunfire.
"What the fuck?" Steven muttered.
"Dawson," Mackenzie said grimly, stepping back, away from Danny, and dropping the pencil. He glanced at Danny, wrenching his chin up. "Congratulations. You get some time to think this over. We will continue this later."
"Can't wait," Danny managed.
Guns drawn, they quietly crept out of the office.
Danny allowed himself a second of blissful, shuddering relief.
God, he had to get out of here. He had to find Rusty.
*shrug* Pencils are scary.
