An Unholy Alliance by InSilva

Disclaimer: own nothing of an Ocean's nature. Still have fingers crossed. Then again I am eternal optimist.

Epilogue

The hotel bar was packed.

Danny appeared with drinks and laughter and yet there was a feeling of foreboding. Someone was watching, someone was watching with intent…

Rusty was strolling across the room, elegant and self-assured and smiling and yet there was something wrong. Someone was waiting, someone was waiting with purpose…

And there was sudden movement and then horror unfolded. Right in the middle of the bar. Right in front of those drinking. And none of them did anything about it.

Rusty, clothes ripped from his body, defiled and degraded and not helpless, never helpless, but powerless to stop the inhumanly vicious and the cruelly brutal. And it was agony to witness, agony to endure.

And then the scene shifted and so did the focus.

Danny, fighting. Fighting like his life depended on it. Fists flying, scrapping, scuffling, punching, striking, thumping, hitting… And nothing he did was enough. Everything he offered came back in bloody spades. And it was agony to witness, agony to endure.

There were tears.

For a while, the dreams die down. And then…

A room. No windows. No escape. And Bryn Gower sat on a chair grinning up at him.

It's your fault. If it wasn't for you, they wouldn't have been hurt.

He wants to deny. He can't deny. It's his fault.

He looks down at Bryn Gower still grinning up at him and he watches in horrified fascination as his own hand wraps into dark and silver hair and pulls Bryn's head back and then his fingers close around a knife and he slices it slowly across Bryn's throat. The blood flows out and over and still Bryn is grinning up at him even as he can hear the screaming start.

He wakes up with a start. Dreams. Nightmares. He swallows. He still feels the guilt. He can still hear the throes of death.

"Saul."

"Danny. Rusty."

"Saul."

The waitress puts three cups of coffee in front of them and all three immediately pick up a cup to drink from and to hide behind.

Saul sighs. They are never going to volunteer. His fingers continue to grip the cup as he puts it down.

"Three times," he says simply. "Three times you thought you were rid of him."

"Saul," Rusty begins and Saul avoids looking at the ridiculous cast, "it's over now, we don't have to-"

"Yes, we do!" Saul raises his voice and they both wince at the pain. Others look round at them and Saul says again in a low tone, "I saw, Rusty. I saw you and I saw you," he looks at Danny, the marks fading on his face. "And then I saw Michael." His voice shakes. "And then I saw Bryn."

Bryn. And he cannot ignore the flinch that they both try to bury from him.

"I saw Bryn and more than that, I could see what happened in that room. No." He shakes his head as he sees Danny open his mouth to contradict. "No, Daniel, I saw." His voice trembles now. "And now, you tell me."

He stares them out and Rusty sighs and Danny's face is full of unspoken curses.

"Started a long time ago, Saul," Rusty says eventually and Saul sees the tightness in Danny's face. "We were young and lucky and we thought our luck would hold. And then there was Bryn."

"We set him up, Saul."

"We put him away."

"Just that in doing so, I-"

"-we-"

"-I let him-"

"-it was my idea-"

"-I could have stopped it-"

"Boys!" Saul calls them to order.

"He had a thing for blonds," Rusty explains abruptly. "We needed information. I went to get it."

Saul exhales slowly. He looks from one to the other and then starts to ask the question he doesn't want the answer to. "Did he-"

"No. No," Rusty reassures quickly and with an apologetic glance at Danny, reluctantly adds, "he tried."

Danny closes his eyes.

"He tried and Danny stopped him. We set him up and he went to jail."

Danny opens them again and stares at the ceiling and Saul is certain that it's to keep him from seeing the raw pain inside his eyes.

"Unfortunately, we ended up in jail too," he says and Rusty studies the nails of his good hand. "The same jail," Danny clarifies.

This has to be dealt with. "You two went to jail? And I didn't get to hear about it?"

"No one did, Saul." Danny's looking at him again now. "It was for two days and, well, it wasn't really us."

"It wasn't you."

"It was Jimmy Stewart," Rusty says helpfully.

"Something that backfired."

"Anyway, we ran up against Bryn again. And…he tried again." There's emotion now in Rusty's voice and Saul knows that he would keep it out if he could which means he can't which means the memory is still overwhelming.

Danny steps in to cover. "He tried again. I couldn't…" he tails off.

"You did!" Rusty says fiercely. He looks at Saul. "He did," he says definitely and quietly.

"And it was alright, Saul. Because he didn't know who we were."

"He thought he did."

"He thought he knew a lot of things."

"But then…"

The conversation halts.

"Then, I went missing," Saul finishes. "And you found Gerard had already given Bryn money to go after the diamonds. And you went after me. And you had to…" Oh, God! "…you had to be with him."

The same look of hooded misery is in both sets of eyes looking at him from across the table.

"You should have walked away," Saul says firmly.

There is a pair of synchronised mirthless smiles.

"It was already too late by then, even if we'd wanted to," Rusty tells him.

"By then, he had our real names. And besides-"

"-besides."

There is love and affection and warmth sitting opposite him and Saul has never felt more love and more guilt washing through him in simultaneous measures.

"It's just that we set him up again." Danny's voice is distant. "And yet…" His eyes grow sharp. "That's why I asked whether you were sure."

Me too, he reads from Rusty.

"I am sure," he says at once. "I sat outside while they…" Butchered? Executed? "…while they killed him. And I saw his body afterwards. Bryn Gower is very, very dead. I promise you both."

He sees the effect his words have and the mix of liberation and emotion in both their faces.

"Thank you, Saul," Rusty's tone is brittle and Saul is not too sure that he isn't about to crumble.

Obviously, Danny hears the note of fragility too and steps in at once.

"Do you want to leave a message on Rusty's cast? Something for him to look forward to?"

"Have you?" Saul asks, diverted and intrigued.

Danny grins. "Right round the back where he can't see. It's driving him crazy. Almost as much as cutting holes in his favourite suits and shirts."

Rusty scowls and Saul finds himself unexpectedly laughing.

"It itches," Rusty says plaintively and Saul sees the look of affection and concern flit across Danny's face. The boys will look after each other. They always have done. They always will.

The wind is blowing and there is a light rain and the graveyard is pretty much deserted. They stand staring down at the gravestone for a long while.

"You're never gonna change the way I feel," Rusty says suddenly. "If it wasn't for me, he would still be alive."

Danny lets his head drop back on his shoulders so that the rain drizzles over his face.

"If we hadn't been there in Amsterdam, Bryn would still have turned up again in his life. Would still have hurt him." He looks at Rusty who is still staring at the marker. "Think what sort of an existence he had, Rus. Not even ten years made a difference. We gave him another start."

Rusty bends down and puts the tulips on the grave then straightens up and looks at Danny. "We brought the apocalypse down on his head."

There is silence and pain and blame and then Danny sighs. "Come on. I'm sure you're not supposed to get that plaster wet."

It has taken a little digging. Questions asked and money offered and now they are standing outside the door to an apartment.

"You ready?" Danny asks quietly.

Rusty nods. Danny cracks the lock and they step inside. The apartment is as dead as its owner. The air is stale and their noses wrinkle.

Danny heads over to the stack of video-cassettes. Rusty heads to the VCR and presses eject. There is going to be a bonfire.

"Bedroom," Rusty says tightly and they push open the door.

There are drawers and closets and they search diligently. Danny finds it in a shoebox. He reads the label and the fury shudders through him. His fist closes over it before Rusty can read it.

No.

And Rusty holds his gaze for a long moment before accepting the decision.

It isn't four months. It isn't even three. Rusty is nothing if not resourceful and Danny walks back through the door to see him applying the blade to the plaster above his elbow. Rusty has ambidexterity but even so this does not seem sensible or safe and Danny shouts. Rusty stops. And then holds out the blade with a set to his jaw that tells Danny he can help or get the hell out.

He can never say no to Rusty.

He takes the blade from him and completes the job. The cast cracks open and Rusty pulls his arm free. It is lacking muscle and seems withered. Moreover, it is locked in a right-angle and Rusty winces as he tries to straighten it. He shoots a look of pure panic at Danny who reaches out and holds his right hand.

"Gently, Rusty. Move it a little at a time. You'll find yourself freeing up soon enough."

Rusty nods and then smiles. "What do you know about it?"

"Broke my foot when I was eleven. In plaster up to my knee."

"Eleven? What were you doing?"

Danny busies himself brushing away dead skin from Rusty's arm. "I was doing sports."

"Well, that explains your general reluctance-" Rusty breaks off and looks closer. "What sort of sports?"

"Running."

He feels the weight of the wait.

"Kiss chase," he says with a sigh.

"You were chasing?"

"I was the chasee," Danny elaborates unwillingly and lifts his eyes to Rusty. "The girls were very fast in my school. And determined. And three of them…" There was a dim memory of being tackled and going down in a tangle of limbs and giggles and sudden searing pain.

Rusty's gaze is level and inescapable. "You couldn't outrun a group of girls."

Danny grimaces. "Told you. They were single-minded."

"How fast were you running?"

"Fast enough."

"You wanted to be caught."

"I can march you to the hospital and demand another cast, you know."

Rusty is silent though his lips twitch. He reaches down with his left hand and picks the cast up off the floor. He reads the date Danny has written on it.

"You were out by two weeks," he points out.

"I was hoping you'd give yourself more time." Danny's eyes are serious. "Don't rush this, Rusty. Promise me. This is important."

Rusty blinks and then sighs and nods and Danny feels better on this point. Because he's asked and Rusty has given and they don't lie to each other about things like that.

A year later and the pair of them are lying on their fronts on the floor of a hotel room, studying the plans to the goldsmiths.

They're not sharing a bed any longer. They're not sharing a room unless they want to though they usually pay for two and end up in the one, talking and drinking into the early hours till one falls asleep on the couch and the other dives headfirst into pillows.

The nightmares are long gone. The physical has disappeared. They are healed.

Danny looks across at Rusty beside him and there is the tail end of a conversation that finishes with the ludicrous and the unlikely and the laughter and they grin at each other.

"We need a distraction," Danny says, glancing at the plans. "Something to focus the attention at the front of the building."

There is thoughtful silence beside him and Danny stares at the blueprints in front of him and steels himself and then turns his head.

Rusty's fingers and thumb are busy. Rubbing over his mouth. Over his lips. Over and over and over and it's over, it's over and it never will be. And Rusty will never know about the legacy of Bryn.

"Sewer," Rusty says suddenly and his hand leaves his mouth and jabs at the plans. He turns to smile at Danny.

"Sewer," Danny nods, face carefully relaxed, eyes alight with the right amount of amusement. "You've still not forgiven me for London, have you?"

Rusty grins. "Just don't wear any shoes you care about."

A/N: And that is it truly. This is a fic that bubbled away for a long time and I want to thank otherhawk again for prereading the latter half for me and making sure it made sense. She is awfully good at details. You may have noticed. And I am just not worthy.

And thank you to everyone who's read and followed and reviewed.

And yes, yes. He is really dead. You can take Saul's word for it.