A/N: Many, many thanks, as always, to InSilva for prereading and suggesting improvements. And writing the last three words. Four words. I can count, honest.

Disclaimer: I do not own O11

"They're not really all that, you know," Matthew Brigstock told him lazily as they celebrated with a round of beers in front of an open log fire. "Danny Ocean and Rusty Ryan. They're nothing special."

And there Linus really had to disagree, in spite of the convivial atmosphere and the easy acceptance, and the heady, giddy thrill of an impossible job well done. "They're a bit special," he argued.

"Uh oh." Matthew turned and flashed Larry O'Dell a quick grin. "The kid's got that starry-eyed look in his eyes. He's fallen for the charm."

"Yeah." Larry didn't look so amused. "Linus, no one's saying they're not good. They are - "

" - well, they're alright," Matthew interrupted, rubbing at his crooked nose with a frown.

Larry rolled his eyes. "They're good," he repeated. "But they're no better than anyone else. I've worked with them before. We both have. So we know how it goes. They got this way of making you feel like you're part of some wonderful private joke and everyone just gets carried right along with them."

He shifted uncomfortably. That was a fairly accurate description of how he'd felt through most of the Benedict job.

"You want to carry on working with them, that's fine," Larry went on. "God knows they can open a lot of doors for you. Just remember, they're not legends, they're not invincible and the magic isn't real. Hero-worship is dangerous, Linus. At best all it gets you is mocked and taken advantage of."

"The guys would never," he protested unflinchingly.

Oddly, he thought he'd have preferred if they'd argued. If there was something there to fight about. But Larry just shrugged. "I could be wrong," he said. "Maybe they really do like you."

"Doesn't mean you shouldn't be careful," Matthew chimed in. "At the end of the day, in this game...you got to look out for yourself first of all. All Larry's saying is we like you, kid. We'd be happy to work with you again, and we don't want you getting hurt."

Put like that and it seemed reasonable. And flattering. He smiled easily. "'m fine," he said. "But thanks."

Matthew grinned. "What are we talking about those assholes for anyway?" he demanded. "This is our night. Let's get a bottle of champagne."

A lot of doors had been opened for him in the wake of the Benedict job. Not least because he had several million dollars burning a hole in his pocket, ready to be spent on having anyone he wanted teach him anything he fancied. He was developing his talents and he took part in a few low level cons, just trying out everything he'd learned.

And then he'd heard that Larry O'Dell and Matthew Brigstock were looking for an extra man to help them take on a shipment of safety deposit boxes that were being moved between two banks, and it had been too tempting to resist.

O'Dell and Brigstock had a good reputation. Brilliant and careful, and Mom and Dad had given their blessing, mentioning in passing that they had some sort of rivalry going with Danny and Rusty. It hadn't seemed to matter. It wasn't like he was signing up to be part of their crew, it was just one job, and if it came to that he'd only worked one job with Danny and Rusty too.

And certainly Larry and Matthew had been brilliant. The job had been fantastic, and right from the moment they'd transformed the underground parking garage into the subway station, he'd been having every bit as much fun as he'd expected.

Matthew and Larry had known about the Benedict job and they'd been full of praise and it had been a while before he realised that they were all about praising the execution and never the idea. They didn't mention Danny and Rusty, and when he pointed out he'd just done what he was told, they accused him of being too modest.

But that hadn't really seemed to matter either. Not until Larry and Matthew started talking about working with him more often, and started talking actual plans.

It was a good opportunity, there was no getting away from it. And if the only thing holding him back was some sense of loyalty to Danny and Rusty...it had been one job. And it wasn't as if he could even work with the guys anymore, even if they wanted him. Danny had apparently settled down to married life, while Rusty had – seemingly on a whim – bought a hotel in LA and was busy renovating it and, to hear Reuben talk, spending five times as much money as they'd taken from Benedict.

Point was, they weren't pulling any jobs right now. So there shouldn't be any conflict. Right?

"Why don't you like them?" he asked abruptly, over pizza.

"Like who?" Matthew asked through a mouthful of pepperoni.

"You know who," Linus said, rolling his eyes, and some small part of him was considering how comfortable he felt here. There was none of the awe that kept him from snapping at Danny, and maybe that was a good thing.

"Oh, them," Matthew said with a goodnatured grimace. "Don't you ever want to talk about anything else? What are you, their fanboy?" The easy smile took the sting out of his words. Some of it at least.

"I just want to know," he argued. "If I'm gonna be working with you...I still know them, after all. I don't want to start any awkward situations or anything.

"Fair enough," Matthew said, and Larry nodded grudgingly. "Really, I don't know how it started. It was just one of those professional rivalry things. It must have been...oh, twelve years ago?" He turned and looked at Larry.

"About that, yeah," Larry agreed. "We would have been a couple of years older than you are. Not exactly just starting out, but not that well established. Neither of us had ever met Ocean, or Ryan, but we'd worked with a couple of people who'd worked with them, so we'd heard a few things."

"Most of them pathetically flattering," Matthew added, rolling his eyes.

"Anyway," Larry continued. "We got this contract to steal...a contract, actually. I forget the details, but the point is, it was extremely valuable to our client and nearly impossible to get."

"It was in a locked safe in a vault four storeys below a private depository patrolled by armed guards twenty four seven," Matthew explained, grinning at the memory. The harder the job the more he seemed to enjoy it. "You needed three different codes just to get in the front door."

Larry looked at his partner, smiling and shaking his head. "It took us over a month to get everything in place. By that time we pretty much had everything we owned tied up in that job. Really, it was supposed to be our big break. And the plan was good. We'd got the first two codes using this neat little radio trick some nerd had shown us on our last job. Then - you'll love this, Linus – we were gonna use that to go in as security consultants. Have the manager escort us right there. It would have been perfect. "

It sounded perfect. It sounded the sort of brilliantly stupid plan that would have him laughing inside even while his stomach was doing backflips. "So what happened?" he asked.

"Your friends happened," Matthew said with an uncharacteristic bitterness. "The night we were going to move we got to the depository and there were cops crawling all over it. Apparently there'd been a theft. We were left standing there while the manager told us we'd have to reschedule and then two cops came by and smiled at us. Fucking evil smile too."

"And the next day the gossip network was full of how Danny fucking Ocean had stolen the contract," Larry said morosely.

Ouch. He could see how that would be frustrating.

"They got the break," Larry said with a shrug. "And that's alright. Shit happens, they got there first...that's okay. But the thing is, they knew. We hadn't met them at the time but when we eventually did we recognised them."

"The cops," Linus stated, because that had been obvious.

"The cops," Larry agreed grimly. "They knew we were going after that contract. They weren't even hired to steal it, they just swooped in and grabbed it, knowing the client would pay whoever brought it. And they made sure to take it on the night we'd planned for, just to rub salt in the wound."

"There must have been a reason," Linus said weakly.

"Like what?" Matthew said with a shrug. "Money? Boredom? Because they could? We'd never even met them before, remember?"

Yeah. There was an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"We've had a few run ins with them since then," Larry added. "All more or less on the same lines. Guess that just makes it easier for us to see through their bit."

"Their bit?" Linus asked, already knowing he'd regret it.

"The whole endlessly-cool-together-forever-better-than-anyone -else thing," Matthew explained. "You know. Their bit."

"Like the way they never tell anyone else what they're thinking," Larry cut in quickly. "They have that way of hiding their real plans behind double talk until the last possible moment. You have to admit, that's pretty annoying."

He couldn't help but think about the moment in the elevator shaft when he'd looked up and seen Danny and realised that whole argument and everything had been a lie. And sure he'd got over it, and in the context of the job he sort of understood why they'd done it...but God, it had been annoying. "Yeah," he agreed unhappily. Now he actually thought about it maybe he'd been charmed out of missing just how irritating they were.

Really, though, he felt good about working with Matthew and Larry. It felt like he was a part of something, and he'd missed that feeling once the Benedict job was done. And the more he thought about it, the more he was sure Danny and Rusty wouldn't mind anyway, any more than Larry and Matthew minded that he'd worked with them. This wasn't high school. He had to stop worrying about what the cool kids thought. Certainly the guys must have heard who he was working with by now, and it wasn't like either of them had picked up a phone to talk to him about it. No, he was confident it was fine.

Besides. What Larry and Matthew had told him...it bothered him a little. The problem was, he could easily imagine them doing something like that. Stealing someone else's con because they could and because it was funny and they were bored. It wasn't like they'd be trying to be mean, they just treated everything like it was a game.

But he'd heard the memory of pain in Larry and Matthew's voices when they'd been telling the story. There was a wound there, scabbed over, perhaps, but at the time it had obviously mattered a great deal. He thought of his big break in the Benedict job, the hope, the anticipation, the terror, and he imagined how he would have felt if someone had come along and pulled the rug out from under him, and it had suddenly come to nothing. Sort of left a bad taste in his mouth, and he wanted to apologise to Matthew and Larry on their behalf. They were still his friends, after all. Nothing had happened to change that.

For some reason, now he was planning on working with Matthew and Larry more, Mom and Dad were less enthusiastic than when it was just a one-off.

"Maybe you should just go solo for a while, honey," Mom said as they washed the dishes together after Sunday lunch. "You know, Rusty is bound to go back to pulling jobs sometime soon. I'm sure he'd have a place for you."

"Mom..." he sighed. He didn't want to sit around waiting, and he didn't want to work on his own. On his own he was never totally sure how to even start – who made for a good mark, and how did you find them, and once you'd found them how did you know beyond all possible doubt that you should be working a Leighton Dower on them rather than a Freeze Frame? "I like Matthew and Larry. And they have a place for me now. So what's the problem?"

Mom glanced over to where Dad was fixing coffee. "There's no problem...you just don't want to get stuck in a rut, that's all."

"And you shouldn't be deciding who to work with based on whether you like them," Dad added with a frown. "There are more important criteria."

"I know that," he said through gritted teeth, taking the plate out of Mom's hands and drying it with maybe a little more force than was strictly necessary. "But Dad, you said yourself that Matthew and Larry were brilliant."

Mom looked a little upset. "They are, but Linus, there's more to life than being 'brilliant'. Danny - "

He'd had enough. " - So if being brilliant isn't enough, and me liking them isn't enough, what exactly should I be looking for?" he demanded with heavy sarcasm.

That shut the conversation up, at least for a while.

And in the meantime, he was having fun.

In Tampa they stole a Magritte protected by a complex network of pressure pads they couldn't turn off.

"Just think of it as hopscotch," Larry suggested helpfully as they practiced.

He twisted round and glared.

"Come on, Linus," Matthew grinned. "You've got three whole minutes without the lasers. You could boil an egg in that time."

In the bar after, with the painting already safely in the fence's hands, and the money burning a merry hole in their pocket, he made the mistake of saying that he thought the girl sitting at the bar was cute. Matthew and Larry pounced at once, and somehow, after a little pushing, a certain amount of small talk, and a great deal of outrageous flattery – his eyes were not pretty for crying out loud – he was walking away with her phone number. And even though it only took one dinner date for him to be certain he was never going to know as much about post-Communist Russian writers as she wanted him to, that didn't stop it feeling sort of nice that the guys had his back even in the things that didn't matter.

And in Portland, while they waited in the little crawlspace below the vault, Matthew kept him in stitches talking about previous jobs.

"It was a simple distraction," he insisted. "A frog in the water feature. I mean it's grade school stuff. But somehow, Larry got the wrong kind of frog."

"The wrong kind of frog?" Linus repeated blankly.

Matthew nodded. "This was a siren among frogs. Because in the space of six hours there were about twenty more frogs just hopping right up into the lobby. Somehow the stupid thing was attracting them. Trust me, twenty frogs isn't a distraction – it's a plague."

"The frog must have been pregnant when we stuck it in there," Larry said, his lips twitching. "It wasn't my fault."

Matthew stared at him. "Pregnant? Frogs lay eggs. And then you get tadpoles. Do you even understand how frogs work?"

"Must have been out sick that day at school," Larry answered with an easy grin.

Linus laughed, put in mind of other times and conversations and jokes. He did his best to put it out of his head. Everyone else kept making comparisons. He didn't want to join in.

Obviously since the end of the Benedict job the eleven of them hadn't all been in one room together. They'd scattered afterwards for a reason, meeting up en masse was tempting more fate than they should. But they could meet up in little groups from time to time when they happened to, and Linus was secretly very pleased indeed when Basher phoned and mentioned he and Livingston were in town to sell the results of some project they'd been working together, that could apparently automatically hack most computers then detonate the hard drive, leaving nothing but a lot of smoke. "It'll be three months before they find a way round it," Basher explained cheerfully. But those three months will be like shooting pigeons in the park." And apparently, Frank had a layover and Yen...well, no one ever really knew why Yen turned up anywhere, but the point was they were all here, and they wanted him to come along too, and just that simple fact was enough to make him smile, though naturally he played it cool.

"I should be able to make it," he said. "I'll let you know if anything comes up last minute."

"We'll be in the bar," Basher told him. "You'll be able to find us easy, cos after two drinks, Livingston will have a lampshade on his head."

Thankfully that turned out to be an exaggeration for the most part anyway. And once they were all settled down, and a few rounds of drinks had been drunk, a few dozen self-congratulatory remember-whens had been shared, the conversation turned, naturally enough, to what everyone was doing now.

"Heard you were working for Matthew Brigstock and Larry O'Dell," Frank remarked, shaking his head. "You sure that's wise?"

"Why?" he said, with just a touch more heat than he really intended. "Cos Danny wouldn't like it?"

Yen, frowning and clearly lost, asked a quick question and Linus remembered he wasn't the only newcomer.

"It's one of those professional rivalry things," he explained. "They're always trying to one up each other, that's all."

Frank raised an eyebrow. "Yeah...s'ppose you could say that. Or you could say it had more to do with the fact that Danny was the one who broke Matthew Brigstock's nose."

"What?" They hadn't told him about that. Why wouldn't Matthew have said something? Unless he didn't want to set Linus against Danny, but then he couldn't imagine Danny doing that at all. "Why?" he demanded.

Livingston looked down at his drink. Basher and Frank exchanged a long and uneasy glance. Yen leaned forwards, clearly eager for the story.

"It was all a long time ago," Frank said uncomfortably. "It's water under the bridge now. And it's not like – I mean I still work with Brigstock and O'Dell from time to time, and Danny's never had a problem with it."

"But what happened?" Linus pressed.

Frank and Basher exchanged another unhappy look, and Frank made a little go-ahead gesture.

Basher sighed. "Alright. There's always been rumours, but this is what I heard from Phil Turrentine, and he was actually there. It was in the middle of some job they were working together. I don't know what started it, but I guess they already hated each other..." He took a deep breath. "Brigstock called Rusty a worthless fag who should stick to what he was good at and stay on his knees, sucking cocks. Danny turned round and punched him. Got to say, I'd probably have done the same."

Frank shrugged uneasily. "Can't say it sits well with me either. But Rusty can fight his own battles. And you know how irritating he can be when he puts his mind to it."

"That's not the point," Basher scowled. "Are you seriously trying to tell me – you – that you don't think there are some things you don't let people call your friends, no matter what they've done?"

"Yeah, all right," Frank agreed grudgingly. "I do agree he was well out of line."

Linus was still trying to process it all. "Matthew really called Rusty a..." He hesitated. "The 'f word'?"

"More than once from what Phil said," Basher confirmed. "Just that that time, he was stupid enough to do it in front of Danny."

"Oh." He really didn't know what to think now. That just seemed...he'd never say something like that. And he wouldn't have expected it of Matthew either. "Are you sure?" he asked helplessly. "I mean, couldn't this Phil guy have been wrong?"

Frank, Basher and Livingston all glared at him. "Hey, Phil was a good man," Basher told him firmly.

Was a good man. Oh. He blinked slightly, knowing he'd put his foot in it. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I just..." He shrugged.

"It was a long time ago," Frank said. "And like I said, I don't have any problem working with Brigstock. And it's not like it was the start of the whole thing. They hated each other long before that, and everyone knows Danny and Rusty started it."

Livingston spilled his drink across the table. "Wait, Danny and Rusty started it?"

Yen asked the same thing, only slightly less politely.

Basher shrugged. "Yeah. There was something about a con that Danny and Rusty stole."

"It was twelve years ago," Linus explained eagerly. "They were stealing a contract from a depository, and Danny and Rusty got there first, screwing them over for no reason."

"But that's not true," Livingston exclaimed. "Not even close. That whole thing with the contract – that was just a con. The contract didn't even exist! It was just revenge for..." He stopped short.

"Revenge for what?" Frank asked.

Livingston bit his lip uneasily and looked back down at his drink. "This was a long time ago, you know. It wasn't long after I first..." He took a hurried look around the bar. "Started working 'freelance'." He fixed them with a significant look, and Linus nodded to show he understood 'freelance' was a euphemism for 'criminal'.

"Anyway," Livingston went on. "I got hired by Brigstock and O'Dell." His mouth twisted with distaste at the names. "I was supposed to take down the security system round a bank. It wasn't a straightforward job. It took about two weeks, and they were probably about the worst two weeks of my life."

"Yeah," Basher nodded with a grimace. "I've heard they're a bit rough on their technical contractors.""

Linus swallowed hard. None of this was sounding familiar. They'd been great to him. "What did they do?"

"Nothing too bad, really," Livingston assured him, with a worried, sympathetic look. "They just, uh, shoved me around a bit. Made fun of the way I talk behind my back. Hid my equipment. I mean, it wasn't anything I hadn't...I just wasn't expecting it. And it was a long time ago. I'm sure they've grown up since then." He sounded bright, but his face was unconvinced.

Sounded like out and out bullying to Linus. He'd come in for his share of it in high school. But most people had grown out of it. And yes, they'd teased him, but they'd never...he shifted uncomfortably.

"Anyway," Livingston went on hurriedly. "Afterwards, I went round to see Rusty and Danny. I mean, I wasn't looking for them to do anything, or anything, I just wanted to see...I mean, it was after me and Rus' broke up, but we were still..." He trailed off, and Yen suggested a word that was short, to the point, and made Livingston blush. "No! I mean it wasn't just...no!"

Linus was still a second behind. "You and Rusty?" he blurted out, biting his tongue as Livingston turned a hurt look on him.

"Yes," he said stiffly. "And we were still friends," he added with a glare at Yen. "So I told him about Brigstock and O'Dell and he and Danny were..." He paused. "They were angry," he said with a shrug. "You know how they get."

"Yeah," Basher nodded with a snort. "Tell them that story and Brigstock and O'Dell wouldn't have had a chance."

"So that's what happened," Frank said, with a certain amount of satisfaction. "That makes much more sense."

"I thought you said they were good guys?" Linus demanded unfairly.

Frank shrugged. "My experience, they are for the most part. And they're good thieves, which is more to the point. I only work with them occasionally though. I wouldn't sign up with them full time, and given a choice between working with them and working with Danny and Rusty, I'd pick Danny and Rusty every time. And that's got nothing to do with any feud, or any bullshit thing they've said to anyone."

"What then?" he asked.

Frank looked at him seriously. "They're not the guys you call when you're in trouble," he said simply.

He bit his lip. He didn't know what to say anymore. He didn't know what to think. Everywhere he turned, he was hearing awful stories from friends about other friends, and he didn't know what he should believe.

As if in response to his discomfort, the conversation turned abruptly, and Basher was talking about the recording studio he was thinking of buying, and Yen was telling Livingston about his new girlfriend, and for a while he just sat and let it wash over his head.

He needed to figure out what was what. And soon.

The next day he was back working with O'Dell and Brigstock. They were putting a job together and they needed him, and they'd just assumed he was going to be there. Of course he hadn't been able to say no. How could he explain that over the course of a single drinks session, he'd rethought their whole association. Not that he actually had...he was just more worried that he was rushing into things now.

After all, he could still make excuses for them that sounded justified to his ears. It had been a long time ago, ten years at least. Ten years could change your views on a lot of things. Ten years ago he'd been convinced that everyone on the marching band was good and every last person in the glee club was evil and wanted him dead. And okay, so there was a difference between thirteen and twenty something, but there was still some sort of a point there...wasn't there?

The job involved a Mr Wallace Grimley, and the pouch of diamonds he kept in a safe by his bed. He was a plump, ageing music producer with a fussy manner and a habit of shaking his head so much that his ridiculously over-sized tinted glasses slid right down his nose, and when Linus first befriended him in the guise of an excitable young music journalist, he'd struggled to avoid staring at his massive platinum coiffe. Oh, that just had to be a wig, didn't it?

It was fun. And it would be very easy to just fall into the habit of accepting the fun and just letting everything he'd heard slide. But he was determined not to do that. He wanted to know.

He was too busy up until the night before the actual job though. Then they had some downtime, and he sat with them, eating pizza, drinking beer and searching for the perfect opening that never came.

"I saw some of the guys from the Benedict job at the weekend," he said, casually at last. "Think you know a couple of them – Frank Catten and Livingston Dell?"

"Frank C!" Matthew beamed delightedly. "Oh, I haven't seen him in an age. How is he?"

"Good," Linus nodded. "He's good. He mentioned you'd worked together before. So did Livingston."

Matthew looked puzzled. "I know the name..."

Larry leaned forwards. "The nervous nerd," he told him.

Linus bristled a little at the description. This wasn't exactly helping their case. Not that they knew they were meant to be making a case...

"Oh, God, yes," Matthew remembered. "That guy. He was so annoying. Everything had to be just so. He freaked out if we even looked like we were going to touch his stuff. He lighten up any?"

Not exactly, but he'd seen the way Danny and Rusty and the rest of the guys worked with Livingston's quirks, and he'd done the same and found Livingston friendly and quietly funny. And besides, he was good at what he did. And that should be what counted.

"He really was very annoying," Larry cut in, looking at Linus, his brow creased. "But we did our best to jolly him along. Tease him a bit to take him out of himself. There's nothing wrong with that."

Put like that, there wasn't. And he wanted to believe them, he really did. He wanted to think this was just some misunderstanding – that Livingston had seen malice instead of stupidity, and Danny and Rusty had overreacted, and Matthew and Larry hadn't understood, and no one had done anything actually wrong.

"Basher also mentioned you called Rusty a...fag." He hesitated on the word, as if he was worried about who might hear him.

"Probably," Matthew said with a shrug. "He is, after all."

He inhaled sharply.

"Oh, sorry, that's not the 'politically correct' way to put it, is it?" Matthew said, rolling his eyes. "Alright, he is a homosexual then. Better? He's ashamed of it, that's his problem, not mine."

"It's not about being ashamed," Linus argued.

Matthew wasn't listening. "Oh, this is about the time Ocean punched me, isn't it?" He rubbed the bridge of his nose briefly. "Look, I don't deny I lost my temper. But that stupid f...fucker had just given away five thousand dollars. Hadn't even consulted anyone, just gave our money away. We're criminals, not a charity. You really blame me for getting mad?"

He could hear the anger creeping into Matthew's voice again. And if it had been him, he might be angry about the money, it would depend on what the story was behind it, but he figured what really rankled with Matthew was not being consulted. "No..." he admitted unwillingly. "But that still doesn't mean you should call him...that."

"Maybe, but Ocean shouldn't have hit me," Matthew argued, his voice injured. "Bastard had no right to do that."

"It wasn't his fight," Larry chimed in. "You can't go around hitting people because they use a word you don't approve of."

And he found that hard to argue with as well.

"Suppose it just cut a little too close to home for Ocean, though," Matthew went on with a smirk. "He doesn't want anyone looking too closely at his...relationship."

"What do you mean?" Linus asked, even though he was pretty sure he already knew.

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, kid. You must have noticed the way they are with each other. All those little looks, all those secret smiles, all those half-finished conversations. You really think they're not lovers?"

He'd spent far too much of his time during the Benedict job wondering precisely that. "Well..."

"You know," Larry added. "They're always the first to volunteer to share a room. In fact, they don't even need to volunteer. And I heard from Turk Malloy that he's known them to share a bed at least once. And Phil Turrentine walked in on them holding hands. He told Cliff Rowley, and Cliff told me."

Oh. Well, that all sounded kinda conclusive. Almost, anyway, But he still didn't like the way Larry was saying it. Like it was an accusation. "Does it really matter?" he asked.

"Nah," Matthew said immediately. "But that said, why hide it? It's the twenty-first century for fuck's sake. Why not just man up and admit it if they are, or deny it otherwise."

"You ever think that they just like leaving everyone guessing?" Larry suggested, his eyes fixed on Linus. "All this are-they-aren't-they stuff. It's just one more way to get attention. It's ridiculous. Come on, admit it. You think so too."

"It is kinda annoying," he admitted. He liked things to be clearly defined and understandable. Danny and Rusty weren't. Not even close. But because he wanted to know, didn't mean they had to tell him. And he wasn't so sure how they'd got onto complaining about the guys anyway. "Really, they could just be good friends," he added sheepishly. "Best friends."

Larry snorted. "Yeah. Larry's my best friend. We've been partners since we were kids. Let me tell you, I've never shared a bed with him, and we stopped sharing an apartment just as soon as we could afford it."

"Danny and Rusty don't - " Linus began.

" - oh, they did," Matthew laughed. "For years. Right up until Ocean somehow got himself a wife. Don't you think there's something sort of pathetic about two grown men choosing to spend their every waking moment together?"

He didn't really know. It seemed to be just the way they were, and no one else ever seemed to give it a passing thought. He'd never had a friendship like that. Obviously it was weird, but he didn't think it was a bad thing, necessarily, whether they were lovers or not. But Matthew and Larry seemed to think different.

No matter what, he felt uneasy. After this job was done, he'd maybe take a break. Try and get his head straightened out. Forget about who said what, and who was right and who was wrong, and just try and focus on what he should do.

The job went bad. It was no one's fault, no one could have predicted it, but Wallace Grimley came home unexpectedly and got an excellent look at Linus as he climbed out of the bedroom window.

For a whole second they just stood there, staring at each other, frozen, while Wallace's tinted glasses slid slowly down his nose, and then, thankfully, Linus remembered how to move and dived out of the window and hit the ground running, while Wallace shouted after him.

The cops caught him barely two blocks away. He managed to pass the diamonds to Larry at least, but there was no hope for him and, sitting in the back of the squad car, he caught a glimpse of Matthew and Larry watching him from the crowd, their faces carefully blank while their eyes showed sympathy and regret.

Yeah. He already knew there was nothing they could do for him, and he closed his eyes and gave the briefest nod of acknowledgement, enough to convey that he understood and that he'd never even think of selling them out.

He wanted them to think he was brave.

But he was going to prison and he was sick and afraid.

It was cold in the holding cell, and he honestly wasn't sure if it was part of a deliberate effort to make prisoners uncomfortable, or if it was just because he couldn't stop shaking.

They'd questioned him – not much, just the basics. He maintained it was a case of mistaken identity, that he'd just been running down the street, and he had no connection to any theft. That story would come crashing down the moment they stuck him in a line up though. They'd taken his prints too. And they would come back clean, and he certainly hadn't been falling over himself to tell them that his name wasn't really Chuck Taub, but sooner or later they would realise that was an alias, find out who he really was, and that would lead them straight back to Dad. And once they knew there was a thief in the family, they'd probably start looking deeper, and they'd realise who Dad really was, and then they'd get Mom too, and it would be all his fault.

God. Maybe this was why Dad hadn't wanted Linus 'trading on his name'. Maybe he'd realised that eventually, Linus would screw everything up.

He could feel the sweat trickling down the back of his neck. He bit his lip fiercely. Oh, God, he didn't want to go to jail.

It was unfair, he knew, but still he did feel just a little resentful of Larry and Matthew. Really, there was nothing they could have done. It wasn't their fault...but they were out there, with the diamonds, while he was stuck in here. They'd have taken them to Williamson by now – they'd have the money and they'd probably be going straight to the bar like they'd planned. Probably they'd drink to his memory, like he was dead, and to be honest, he might as well be. He'd get five years for this at the very least, maybe as many as ten, and of course he was happy they weren't here too – he'd never want any of his friends to go to prison, he just wished...

The door slammed open and he just about jumped out of his skin.

"Taub?" The cop leaned against the doorway, glaring down at him. "On your feet and follow me. At the double."

He got up hurriedly and followed the cop down the corridor, past the interview room.

"Right," the cop drawled, coming to a halt. "Step through that door and stand against the wall on the fourth mark, facing the mirror. Do not look at anyone else, do not move from the spot and do not say anything. Is that clear?"

He nodded nervously. He was going to walk in there, Wallace Grimley was going to pick him out instantly, and life as he knew it would be over.

A sudden noise, and two more cops came round the corridor with a plump older man, trailing after them, complaining bitterly all the while.

"Shit!" the cop exclaimed, shoving him quickly towards the door. "Get in there now."

He was too busy trying not to stare. That was...that was...that was impossible.

Oh, there was the oversized tinted glasses, the dark purple coat, the giant platinum blond hair...but that wasn't Wallace Grimley. That was Rusty Ryan.

That was impossible.

Impossible and dangerous. God, if they realised - if the real Wallace turned up ready to ID him – Rusty would be thrown in jail right alongside him. His heart was in his mouth. He had to be careful. He couldn't give Rusty away. God, what was Rusty thinking?

Mind blank, he stepped into the room where he was told and stood, waiting in line with another five guys, blinking into the bright light for what felt like hours, before the door was opened again and everyone filed out, leaving him standing there as the cop in the doorway glared at him.

"You're free to go," the cop said briefly. "Collect your stuff at the front desk. Sorry for the mix up."

Mix up. Yeah. He didn't dare speak, he just nodded gratefully and followed him to the entrance.

By that point, he almost wasn't surprised to see Danny standing there, casually collecting a pile of files from the desk sergeant.

"Excuse me," Danny said, with a polite smile, squeezing past him and heading out the door.

"Of course," he nodded calmly, not letting even the smallest hint of recognition cross his face. Still he was terrified standing at the desk, certain that someone was going to stop him any moment now. They weren't going to just let him walk out of here, were they?

They did.

They did, and there was a car waiting at the corner of the block, Danny sitting in the driver's seat. "Hi, kid," he said, as Linus got in.

There was no chance he was going to be able to speak. Not without squeaking, anyway. A nod was about as nonchalant as he could get. The pile of files were lying on the passenger seat and he glanced down at the top one to see the sheet of his finger prints. They really had thought of everything.

They'd saved him.

Before he could figure out how to form coherent thoughts, Danny was driving round to the side entrance, and Rusty jumped into the backseat, pulling the blond wig off in one easy moment.

"You alright, kid?" he asked. "Good to see you again."

Finally, Linus found his voice. "Not as good as it is to see you," he said fervently.

They drove back to Danny and Rusty's hotel and went upstairs and – in spite of everything – Linus still found himself surreptitiously staring round the room, trying to figure out if they were sharing. The neat pile of crisp white shirts and dark suits on the chair suggested Danny, but the trail of candy wrappers in front of the window suggested Rusty, and there was only one bed.

Luckily, they didn't seem to notice him looking. "Whisky?" Danny offered, producing a bottle and three glasses.

"Thanks," he said, sitting down heavily and taking a drink. "I mean...thanks." He licked his lips. "If you hadn't been there today - "

" - it's nothing, Linus," Rusty cut him off with a smile. "We won't be there to help you every time you get in trouble. But if we can - "

" - if we can," Danny agreed, like that was an end to it. Like they could just drop out of the sky and fix his problems simply because they could.

"How did you know?" he asked.

They looked at each other and shrugged. "Got a few phone calls."

"Few people were worried about you."

"We wanted to talk to you."

"Make sure everything was okay."

"And we heard - "

" - so we - "

" - and then - "

" - and here we are," Rusty finished brightly.

He paused and looked at them hard. "You're doing that on purpose, aren't you?"

They grinned. "Would we do that?" Danny asked innocently.

He grinned right back, his heart feeling absurdly light. "Of course you would." Because everything was a game to them... the smile faded. "I'm sorry," he said.

Danny blinked. "For what."

Oh, God, this was difficult. He wished he could just pretend that none of these past few months – everything that had been going on in his head – that none of it had happened. "I...well, I mean, I guess you know that Larry and Matthew..." He swallowed hard. "They said some stuff. And I listened. And I'm sorry."

"Linus." Danny shook his head. "You don't have to apologise. Not for that."

"You should hear some of the stuff we say about them," Rusty added cheerfully, and Danny threw an exasperated glance at him. "'s okay. You should give them a call, by the way. They'll want to know you're alright."

"Yeah," he nodded, somehow reluctant. They would want to know, he knew that. And he had no doubt they'd be very glad he was free. Thing was, they could have done what Danny and Rusty did. They were just as skilled, just as daring, just as imaginative. They could have walked right into the police station, pretended to be the eye witness the police had already met, stolen his records out from underneath their noses, and walked out again with him...but they'd never be that crazy. Linus knew, in his heart of hearts, that Matthew and Larry had never even started to consider ways to help him. And he knew, with just as much certainty, that Danny and Rusty had never even stopped to consider whether or not they should.

Mom had said there was more to life than being brilliant.

Frank had said Matthew and Larry weren't the people you called when you were in trouble.

Maybe it all came down to what sort of man he wanted to be.

"I won't be working with them again," he said quietly.

Danny and Rusty exchanged a long look. "You know, they're not bad guys, Linus," Danny told him. "They just don't get what's important."

Yeah. Linus was beginning to understand exactly what that was.

A/N: Thanks for reading, please take a moment to let me know what you think.