Ghosts by InSilva
Disclaimer: Danny and Rusty do not belong to me.
Summary: "Body and Soul" verse. Set after "Justice" and before O12. Danny and Rusty run up against the past.
A/N: On the plus side of things, I have a pretty good idea how long this story is. Unusual, I know. :)
Chapter One: Familiar Faces
The name leapt out at him.
It was late morning and he was casting an eye as he did every day over the list of guests who had arrived the previous evening when he spotted it. Immediately, he told himself not to be paranoid. It wasn't a common name but it wasn't an uncommon name either. And the area of the country the man came from wasn't right. But he could have moved…
His train of thought was interrupted by Kirsty who knocked on the open door to his office with an apologetic smile.
"Sorry to interrupt, Mr Ryan, but there's an incident…"
"It's fine, Kirsty." And he stood up and the name was pushed to the back of his mind.
The incident involved a delivery of balloons and chocolates and a large stuffed toy. The man who'd brought them was insisting that he could only hand them over to a Mr Sam Kennedy.
"We have no one of that name checked in, sir," Arthur was saying, his eyes travelling nervously to the audience forming behind him in the foyer.
"It's Sam Kennedy-" the delivery guy checked his paperwork again, "the third."
Rusty could see the thought washing over Arthur's face that that fact was utterly superfluous as they had no Sam Kennedys of any number staying. He smiled at Arthur and stepped in to the discussion.
"Let me take those and make sure Mr Kennedy gets them."
"You know him?" The delivery guy looked suspicious.
"Sam Kennedy the third, right? I certainly do," Rusty said with complete conviction and the guy nodded, convinced.
Someone stood in the foyer and watched Rusty in action with dawning recognition and subsequent great interest.
Rusty took charge of the gifts and left the reception desk to Arthur, heading back to his office, Kirsty following.
"Here," he said to Kirsty and handed her the bunch of gold and silver balloons. "We've got a honeymoon couple arriving this afternoon. Pop them in their suite, would you?"
"Of course."
Looking at the three foot stuffed bear with the bow-tie and the large box of chocolates, he thought of Kirsty who put in some tough shifts.
"Would you like-" he began and her face lit up.
"Oh, I'd love!" she said, happily taking the box of chocolates from him.
He hadn't meant the chocolates. He smiled and tightened his grip on the bear.
As he had nearly reached his office, Kirsty said shyly, "Happy birthday, Mr Ryan."
"How did you…?"
With sudden intuition, he looked round the office door to see Danny, sitting in his chair, feet up on his desk, waiting for him. He glanced back at Kirsty who blushed.
"He wanted it to be a surprise."
Rusty had no clear idea of the relationship Kirsty imagined for Danny and himself. He had a feeling it leaned towards the romantic. Though he could be wrong. Perhaps she thought they were spies.
"Thank you, Kirsty," he said and she disappeared.
He walked into the office and sat the bear in a chair and leaned up against the wall, his arms folded.
"Suppose you want me to buy you lunch?"
Danny shrugged and twinkled at him. "You own a hotel," he pointed out.
"Sam Kennedy?"
"The third."
Rusty shook his head with a smile.
"I want you to keep the bear and think of me," Danny said, getting to his feet.
"Because it's short, soft and paunchy?"
"Because it's better dressed than you and blessed with better wit."
"Better wit? Even though it's mute?"
"You just have to look at it to know what it's thinking."
Rusty studied the bear and looked back at Danny.
"What?" Danny wanted to know.
"You want me to think of you when I look at the bear? It's only wearing a bow-tie."
Danny grinned. "Well, there was that one time-"
"- oh, there was," Rusty agreed. "And I hate to think how close you came to being arrested. Be thankful we were in Frisco."
"Anyway, the one on the bear-"
"-doesn't revolve?"
"No. Plus-"
"-it's round the bear's neck?"
"Uh-huh."
"Well…" Rusty considered and conceded. "That'll probably help."
They sat in the hotel restaurant and ordered.
"How's Tess?" Rusty asked.
"Coping with being Mrs Diaz. Seems determined to decorate every damn room in the house."
"Woman's an artist."
"Possibly. She's threatening to have some wallpaper in one of the bedrooms that's as hard to live with as one of your shirts."
"You never did understand style."
"I'm going to call it the Rusty room."
Not to her face.
Not if I want to live.
Rusty grinned.
"And if you come to stay, I'll make you sleep there."
"Is it that displeasing to your sense of aesthetics?"
"Put it this way, if we ever sold the house, that would be the first room that got stripped by the new owners."
"Huh." Rusty considred and then a gleam appeared in his eye. "Well, in that case, you could always offer to hang the wallpaper and buy some red paint."
Intrigued, Danny raised an eyebrow.
"Before you paper, write on the wall."
""RIP taste"?"
"I was thinking "Others will die"."
The food arrived as Danny was chuckling and there was a silence as they busied themselves with the trout and the steak and fries.
Across the room, a waiter was summoned.
"That man over there with the blond hair. Does he work here? Is he the manager?"
"No, sir, that's Mr Ryan. He owns the hotel."
"Owner. Well, it's certainly a smart place. Would you be good enough to pass this note on to him? I'd like to offer him my thanks. Oh, and what's the name of the man he's with? I've a feeling I know him."
The plates were cleared away and Rusty was studying the dessert menu with interest while Danny was studying him with amusement.
"Remind me again why you aren't thirty stone?"
Rusty looked up at him, eyes smiling. "My body is a temple."
"It's what you worship that worries me."
"Mr Ryan?"
Rusty looked up at the young waiter. "Yes, Tony."
"A gentleman asked me to pass this on to you." Tony handed over the folded piece of paper.
"Which gentleman?" Rusty asked.
Tony turned to gesture but looked confused. "He's gone." He turned back to Rusty. "I'm sorry. He didn't leave a name."
"Don't worry about it, Tony. Oh, can you bring us a lemon meringue and a tiramisu?"
And what am I eating?
I'll share.
Liar.
"Secret admirer?" Danny asked as Tony walked away.
"Could be," Rusty said and opened the note.
Danny's smile faded as he watched the colour disappear from Rusty's face; as he saw Rusty's fingers tighten on the paper and then ball into fists - and Danny knew Rusty's fingernails were digging deep into his palms; as he looked at Rusty and heard the sudden radio silence as Rusty dropped out of the same part of space-time continuum that Danny occupied.
Rus…?
There was no response. Rusty was still staring at the damn note.
Danny was on the verge of snatching it off him when he saw the man. About sixty, slight in build, with thinning sandy hair and a smile that seemed all things cheerful and despicable at the same time. And he was moving forward slowly, his eyes fixed on Rusty. On the back of Rusty's head. And Danny knew he wasn't even a glimmer on Rusty's radar.
"Rus."
It was low and urgent and for a dreadful moment, he thought it wasn't enough. Then Rusty's eyes flickered and he looked up from the note and came back to him. Rusty's breathing was shallow and he was swallowing hard and Danny could see the fight for control that was going on across the table from him.
Eventually, Rusty took a deep breath and he was back as Rusty again. He smiled at Danny.
"Sorry about that. Someone's sick idea of a joke." He screwed up the note in his right hand.
"Rusty-"
"Someone trying to be funny," Rusty said. "Let's forget about it."
Danny held his gaze but Rusty wasn't giving. He glanced over Rusty's shoulder but the man had gone. When he looked back, the note had disappeared.
Rusty picked up the bottle of red and filled Danny's glass, concentrating on the pouring liquid. "You staying?"
Danny's mind was suddenly sidelined. There was something in the question that Danny didn't get. Just a little undercurrent of…Rusty not wanting him around? Why, how and when did that ever become an option? His brain darted through possibilities and came up with the only one that made a hint of sense.
"You got company?" he asked.
It would never be an issue before. Rusty would cancel with charm and whoever would forgive and rearrange. Danny seriously doubted anyone would pass up the opportunity of a date with Rusty. Unless this was something serious…but… No, he told himself. No. Go with your instinct.
"Just asking," Rusty said casually, his eyes watching his hand pour the wine from the bottle into his own glass.
In actual fact, Danny hadn't planned on staying. He'd hoped to spend the day and evening and then had lined up a late flight back. But now…
"Thought I'd stay over if it's alright with you."
It sounded falsely casual to his ears and Rusty would normally pick up and challenge and the fact that he hadn't, meant only one thing.
Rusty put the bottle on the table, reading the label.
"No problem," he said and Danny heard the strain that wasn't in the words and wondered really why Rusty was even bothering.
Rusty lifted his glass and studied it.
"To getting older-"
"-to staying young."
Looking back, it seemed like a genuine accident. Rusty flung his arm out for another toast just as Tony came with their desserts. Rusty's glass tipped itself over Rusty.
"Mr Ryan! Oh, I'm so sorry!" Tony could not be more apologetic.
"It's OK, Tony, it's nothing, it was my fault," Rusty reassured him, smiling up at him.
Danny looked over at the ruined suit and waited.
"Sorry," Rusty looked down at himself. "I'll just go and change. Be right back."
Of course. Of course."Of course."
Rusty disappeared without looking in his eyes once. Danny sat and watched him go.
Time had stopped for Rusty as he'd read the note. He felt his mouth go dry and his heart start to race. Dimly, he was aware of his fingers curling in on themselves as they gripped the paper.
And then he had heard Danny and he'd brought himself back, forced himself back. He'd tried his best to hide even though part of him was rolling his eyes at his efforts. Danny was never that easily put off.
The trick with the wine had gone as seamlessly as he could have hoped. And if he didn't actually have to look at Danny, he could hold on to the thinnest of possibilities that he could fool him.
Now, Rusty was standing in an elevator, wishing it would move more quickly and wondering whether he should have taken the stairs. He had to deal with this, get changed and get back to Danny.
The note was burning a hole in his pocket. It had been brief but specific.
The elevator doors opened on the fourth floor and Rusty nearly ran down the corridors, coming to a halt in front of room 489. He caught his breath and buried his fear and his mouth set into a firm line. Twenty-five years on and things were going to be on his terms. There was only one thing he had to make sure didn't happen.
He pushed down on the handle and walked into the room, steeling himself for the damnable smile.
"Lad! How very nice to see you again."
Danny had given it a moment and then he'd headed after Rusty. There was no sign of him in the foyer. Kirsty was on the desk and he caught her attention.
"Did you happen to see Mr Ryan come through here?"
"Yes…he just went up in the elevator…"
Danny turned on his heel and looked at the bank of elevators she'd indicated. Two had open doors. The third one showed it had stopped at floor four and Danny knew where he was headed.
"Kirsty?" Danny switched on the charm. "Could I beg a favour?"
Rusty shut the door behind him as MacAvoy, repellent as ever, crossed the room to greet him. All the anger and disgust and shame flowed through him vividly. When he'd been working for MacAvoy, he'd longed to punch him out every time he saw him and now… Eyes bright and unblinking, he drew his fist back.
MacAvoy stopped short and backed away.
"Now then, lad, that's no way to greet an old friend."
Rusty's face darkened.
"You gonna hold still or you gonna make me chase you round the room."
"Lad…lad…" MacAvoy sounded hurt and Rusty stared at him with incredulity. Did he seriously think Rusty was going to welcome him with open arms?
"Where's all this coming from?" MacAvoy asked, backing into the bed and stopping.
"You can't be serious…" Rusty snarled.
"All I wanted to do was congratulate you. Hotel owner! How very respectable."
Rusty grabbed the front of MacAvoy's shirt and drew his fist back again.
"And your nice gentleman friend. Mr Diaz. I would love to meet him."
And just like that, Rusty's anger died. His fist stopped in mid-swing. His nerveless fingers let go of MacAvoy who plumped down on to the bed.
"That's right, lad," MacAvoy's eyes were bright. "Why don't you sit down on that chair and we can have a little chat."
Danny was knocking and smiling at guests and bluffing when he got an answer and using the pass key when he didn't. Every dead end made his mouth just that little bit tighter and his smile just a little bit more forced.
Rusty sat on the chair in the middle of the room and dug his fingernails into his palms and felt MacAvoy at his shoulder and for once - for once - missed the lampshade.
MacAvoy's hand stretched out and stroked Rusty's hair gently. Rusty pulled his head free with an angry jerk and MacAvoy just chuckled.
"Lad, lad, you need to have a better temper on you."
He reached out again and Rusty bit his lip hard as MacAvoy's fingers continued to trail over the blond as he spoke.
"It's been such a long time, lad. You know how much I missed you when you left?"
How much you missed the money, Rusty thought savagely.
"I couldn't believe it when I saw you this morning. You've grown up to be such a handsome man. So good-looking, such a great physique, and still such lovely, lovely hair…"
Rusty felt the fingers winding through his hair and was flooded with memories of a hundred other fingers touching and playing and caressing and hurting…he swallowed the bile and concentrated on MacAvoy's words.
"And to find you so successful in life…a property owner, running a business…running a hotel…any sidelines going? If you know what I mean."
As ever, Rusty did.
"No," the word shuddered out of Rusty.
"Well…maybe we could talk about that…"
Rusty didn't have to see MacAvoy's face to know there was a gleam in his eye. MacAvoy was only ever about opportunity and money and any second now, he was going to say-
"And Mr Diaz…such an attractive man. Dark hair, dark eyes…and you with the blond and the blue…the two of you make such a lovely couple."
MacAvoy bent down to Rusty's ear.
"I bet you make a lovely couple," he said with a change in emphasis which did not escape Rusty and which wrenched his mouth.
MacAvoy straightened up and made his way round to the front of Rusty, reaching past Rusty's right shoulder to lean his hand on the back of the chair, his right hand still resting on Rusty's head, still stroking Rusty's hair, looking into Rusty's eyes.
"Now then, lad." And MacAvoy's tone moved into all things harsh. "You have a little think about what that nice Mr Diaz would say if I were to have a little word with him about your previous way of life. Do you want me to tell him about the number of times you sat on that bed of mine and pleasured yourself for another's entertainment? Or all that time you spent burying your face in a stranger's lap? Or how often you lay on your back or your stomach and let someone enjoy you?"
Rusty didn't see the lined face or the stranded hair; he was sixteen again and it was as if he had never been parted from MacAvoy.
"Do you want me to find him and introduce myself and-"
"No!" It was shout and entreaty wrapped up into one. He never wanted Danny to meet MacAvoy.
MacAvoy straightened up and patted Rusty's head.
"Don't worry, lad. I won't. Long as we can come to an understanding. I'd hate to see Mr Diaz's face when he had to listen to that story. Wouldn't you?"
Rusty closed his eyes. He had no problem picturing Danny's face. He opened them again.
"What do you want?" he asked heavily.
Danny was working his way methodically through the rooms when he turned the corner and ran into Rusty. Rusty took one look at him and guessed and pulled a face.
"Lose the way to your room?" Danny's eyes were taking no prisoners and Rusty knew everything was too fresh on his face to hide.
"Small detour," Rusty said tightly. "Heading to my room now if you want to come with."
Oh, I surely do.
A/N: the red paint under the wallpaper came from a very funny anecdote from Ellis Watson.
And "Body and Soul" verse again. I know. I do have other things to write, I promise.