Chapter Text
“I ran into Lou the other day,” Danny tells her, after the usual, obligatory jokes that orange really is her color.
“Oh?” she murmurs, affecting an air of casual indifference. The shackles around her ankles are too tight, and she’d like very much to return to solitary now, please. She wants to change the subject, but she also wants very badly to lash out, and she was never very good at suppressing her more destructive tendencies.
It’s sort of an Ocean Family thing.
“How’s the weather in Melbourne this time of year?” she asks.
“Debbie…” He clearly knows where she’s going with this, since he doesn’t ask what she means, but she continues as though he had.
“Because I’m assuming that’s why I haven’t heard from her; she’s fucked off back to Australia.”
He thins his lips, expression a combination of amusement and disapproval. “Deb, be fair. You left her first.”
“Only because she—”
“Deborah.”
She fumes. He knows what went down between them, but he shuts her down whenever she tries to bring it up. He says it’s for her benefit that he won’t let her stew in it and rehash her anger. She thinks she might prefer one of those brothers who’s always chomping at the bit to defend her honor.
That must come across in her expression, because Danny shrugs and remarks, “I know you want me to tell you you’re right, but, if you were, you wouldn’t be incarcerated, would you?”
She doesn’t really have anything to say to that.
“Anyway, she asked about you. I thought maybe she was just being polite, but then she looked like she wanted to punch me when all I said was that you’re fine. She’s still wearing that bracelet you gave her, by the way.”
“Good for her,” Debbie intones sarcastically.
Danny laughs, “Jesus, your poker face is terrible.”
“It is not!”
“It is when it comes to Lou Miller.”
After several seconds of silence, she grudgingly asks, “So, how is she?”
Raising his eyebrows knowingly, he smirks at her, every bit the annoying older brother. “I’m not sure,” he admits. “She’s hard to read, and I don’t know her like you do. It’s obvious she misses you, though.”
“I’m right here,” Debbie mutters, lifting her shackled wrists for emphasis.
“I’m sure she wants to kiss and make up, too,” he reassures her, “but you can’t blame her for not wanting to have that conversation here.”
“Kiss?” she echoes, confused.
He looks at her like she’s a complete idiot, which is…okay, maybe not unfair. She is in prison. He changes the subject, though, and it’s a relief. If she’s going to talk through her issues with Lou with anyone, she’d kind of rather it be Tammy than her brother. Or no one. No one’s also fine.
Before he leaves, Danny stands and studies her. “I can talk to Lou for you, if you really want to see her,” he offers.
“No. No, she can come here because she wants to. Otherwise, I don’t want to see her.” Jesus, why does that hurt to say?
“Debbie…” he says, hesitatingly, warningly.
“Danny,” she replies in the exact same tone, “just because I can acknowledge that we were both shitty doesn’t mean I forgive her. Not yet, anyway.”
There’s a weird set to Danny’s jaw, and she figures he’s thinking about Tess. Finally, he tells her, “Look, just don’t let this place turn you too bitter, okay?” And then he’s gone.
His words stay with her, though. They echo off the walls of her solitary cell, and Debbie finds herself distracted with thoughts of her partner for a while.
The next time he visits, she’s mildly surprised that he doesn’t harp on it. In fact, Danny barely mentions Lou at all for years.
“So, you might be getting out of here in a few months?”
“Yeah, good behavior,” Debbie confirms. “I’ve convinced them I’m a veritable angel.”
Danny snorts in disbelief but quickly turns serious. “Listen, I know the “who’s who” is basically all you’ve been thinking about, but, once you’re released, you’re going to have to deal with all the unfinished business that’s been on hold since you got arrested.”
She pictures Claude’s smug face and cracks her knuckles. Violence isn’t really the Ocean Way, but the bastard has it coming. When she’s done with him, he won’t even be able to go to the beach without—
“Go see Lou first.”
“Lou?” she repeats, making no effort to hide her surprise. It’s not what she thought he’d been driving at.
“I can’t make you do anything,” Danny concedes, “but, if you want my advice, I think you should patch things up with her the first chance you get. Don’t waste any more time.”
She scowls at him. Not because he’s wrong, but because nobody likes being ordered around by their big brother. “Why do you care so much about my relationship with Lou?” she challenges.
He props his elbows on the table and makes it clear that she’s about to be lectured.
“Debbie, I don’t think you realize how rare what you’ve got actually is. Anyone in our business will tell you finding a perfect partner—someone you can really rely on—is almost impossible. Most people have their guard up even when things are good. But you two…you two fell out. Bad. And, still, you didn’t have to worry about her selling you up the river. It didn’t even occur to you, did it?”
She blinks at him, dumbfounded. Of course it hadn’t.
“I wasn’t worried, either,” he admits. “I paid her a visit, anyway, to be sure, but you and I both know Lou’d sooner cut out her own liver than give you up. And god knows she needs that.”
He’s not wrong there. Honestly, Debbie’s been a bit concerned that Lou hasn’t been taking good enough care of herself these last few years. There were times, before, when she’d forget to eat if Debbie wasn’t around to remind her. It doesn’t escape her that Danny’s probably intentionally provoking these concerns.
It also doesn’t escape her that Danny may be more protective than she realized.
“I love Tess,” he continues, “but our relationship comes with ultimatums. Most do. Not you and Lou. You’ve got a partner and a best friend, Debbie, and you’re lucky enough to have both of those things rolled into a woman you love.”
“Tess is—wait, love?!” she blurts a little too loudly. It’s fine; if she wants to be paroled, best to let them think relationship advice is the most scandalous thing she discusses with her brother during these visits. “What are you—? I mean, I love Lou, but not like that.”
“Come on, Debbie. Don’t play dumb with me. I’m not blind. I don’t know what was holding you back all those years, but it’s about time to bite the bullet, alright? I don’t want to have to worry about you getting caught up with another Claude Becker.”
She scoffs, “That won’t happen. I’ve learned my lesson.” Then, more quietly, “It’s that obvious?”
Danny chuckles. “Only to everyone but Lou.”
That’s a lot to take in, given she hasn’t fully wrapped her head around it herself.
“I have to get her to forgive me first. I’ve been trying to come up with the words for weeks, and I still haven’t decided between “hi” and “hey.” God, they both sound stupid, don’t they?”
“Debbie—” He’s barely managing not to laugh out loud at her. He’s also saying her name a lot more than usual, which is oddly unsettling. “—tell her you messed up, that you’re sorry, and to please forgive you because you love her. She doesn’t need a monologue.”
He’s right. Lou exudes enough dramatic flair to power all of Broadway for an evening, but she’s not one for flowery speeches. There’s a flaw to all this, though, because, “How are you so sure she feels that way about me? She didn’t even try to fight for me when I was with Claude.”
“Maybe your heart is the one thing she didn’t want to have to steal.”
“Ew,” she grimaces. “What is this, a romcom? And, if you’re wrong, this’ll ruin everything.”
Danny rolls his eyes. “There’s a reason everyone calls you Heist Wives,” he drawls.
Debbie blanches. “No one calls us that.”
“Not to your face…”
The way he smiles at her then is all Danny Ocean. He’s a career criminal visiting his sister in prison. Suspicious guards are watching them from all sides, and he’s leaning back in the scuffed metal chair, wearing a tailored suit that’s almost definitely stolen, but he’s showing pearly teeth in a patently charming grin, and she’s almost convinced that he doesn’t have a care in the world.
She asks about life on the outside, and he’s predictably vague with his responses.
“Oh,” he says, as if it’s an afterthought, “remind me that I’ve got something for you when you get out.”
His right hand slides forward across the table as if to touch her. They both know better. Contact between visitors and inmates isn’t allowed. Instead, he taps the tabletop once and rises. She understands what he means by the gesture.
“See you later,” she says.
He smiles at her again, but only halfway and with a closed mouth this time. “Behave, Debbie.”
When they tell her that Danny’s dead, it’s with very little fanfare. They send one of the guards she gets along with, but she doesn’t have much to say, and neither does Debbie. She wonders if this arrangement was the warden’s decision, or if it just didn’t even occur to Tess to come.
She waits until she has a little more privacy before she cries. And she does cry. While there’s a chance it’s not true—that this is yet another Danny Ocean con—it’s entirely possible that his past caught up to him, or his luck ran out, or he just plain kicked it like a regular person. Debbie’s well aware that sometimes the most interesting people die in the most mundane ways.
So she cries, and she thinks about the people she cares about. There aren’t many, and she’s never been sure if that’s a good or a bad thing, given her lifestyle. She wishes Lou had taken this opportunity to break the silence, but she doesn’t really want Lou to see her like this, and they wouldn’t be able to touch each other, and she thinks that that would only make this worse.
She mourns Danny alone.
She types out a text to Lou the moment she feels suitably presentable and is less surprised than she thinks she should have been at how easy it is to hit send.
By the time she and Lou are in the car, she knows she could get away with not saying anything and they’d be fine. Lou’s forgiven her without being asked, and she really, really doesn’t need to ruin the best thing in her life right now (always).
But she’s got Danny in her head now, urging her to take a risk on something other than a job for once, so she sort of mumble-blurts, “God, I’m stupid.”
Lou starts and shifts as if to pull over, but Debbie covers the hand on the gearshift with her own and shakes her head.
“Don’t. I can’t—this’ll be easier if you just drive and let me…”
A fire flares to life behind Lou’s eyes as she sets her jaw and glares out the windshield. “If you can’t look me in the eyes, maybe it’s not worth saying, Ocean,” she says.
“Maybe not,” Debbie agrees slowly, “or maybe it’s the most important thing I’ll ever say, and I don’t know how you’re going to react.”
“Don’t try to be smooth,” Lou bites. “That’s a Danny thing.”
And Debbie just completely breaks down.
“Shit,” Lou yelps and immediately pulls over.
She’s apologizing profusely, and her hands are everywhere—on Debbie’s face and shoulders and hair—until Debbie sniffles, “Stop! Stop apologizing to me.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I’m trying to apologize to you!”
Lou blinks, dumbfounded.
“I’m sorry,” Debbie insists, forgetting every version of the speech she had planned and defaulting to her brother’s suggestion. “I’m sorry that I used Claude to hurt you, because that was shitty, and I’m sorry for leaving you in the first place. I’m sorry…I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like any job was more important to me than you are. God, Lou, I’m just—I’m just sorry, okay?”
When Lou leans over the center console and hugs her, she’s too relieved to be bothered by the gearshift digging into her side. Almost a minute passes before Lou asks the side of her head, “You were afraid to apologize to me?”
“No,” Debbie corrects, “I was afraid to tell you I’m in love with you.”