.

.

Roman turns his back to her and the world shifts just enough for Reese to breathe. Her lips twitch without her realizing it. He turns just in time to see.

"What?"

"He's going to put you down."

.

.

Connection by connection, all the thin threads of her life have led her to this moment in darkness. She imagines Crews in a cramped cell for twelve years with the weight of innocence on his back. He carries it in his eyes like a shadow now, and when he drifts off she can almost see his shoulder blades break.

She knows that feeling like razorblades down her throat. So when she tells Roman that Crews is getting closer, she means it in the way that Charlie is already here because she is here.

.

.

He's already sunburned, she thinks when she steps out of that car. His face is still turned upward and it's not until she's nearly toe to toe with him that he looks down at her.

"Crews."

"Reese."

His mouth turns up at her name.

"What were you thinking?" she asks.

"Math."

"Math?"

His smile gets wider for a second.

"Reese?"

"What?"

"I'm going to hug you."

.

.

They take him away in cuffs and it's the second time that day she's watched him climb into a vehicle staring at her with an expression that says he isn't sorry for what's about to happen.

.

.

IAD starts out subtle and the thought arises that this is how it started with Bobby all those years ago. They wore him down with the fear of his family and his livelihood.

"He is a threat, Detective Reese."

"Is he?"

"He put you in danger."

"Did he?"

"He has to be held accountable for his actions."

"Does he?"

It takes them a long time to realize she isn't as attached to anything as they thought.

.

.

Talking about Roman means talking about Crews. It means talking about darkness under a black hood and her father on her knees. It means Tidwell and Rayborn. It means breathing in the dark knowing she's already made the decision to die and it doesn't scare her.

The mandated shrink eyes her cautiously. If they mean to use her to bring Crews down, they've made a mistake because she doesn't know just enough to incriminate him.

"People say you were close, in your own way."

"The job is the job. Outside of that, we're not close."

"Your life was on the line, detective Reese. How did that make you feel?"

"What do you mean?"

"The force is under the impression that Crews knew more than he's letting on. That he was, willing to play with your life in order to find some answers about his incarceration. What do you think?"

.

.

She isn't drunk this time when she knocks on his door. But it is the middle of the night and Crews stares in surprise in his sweat pants and wrinkled t-shirt.

"Reese, is everything okay?"

"No." Her mouth is firm. "You lie to me again, and I will shoot you."

He opens his mouth but her feet move forward and her finger points into his chest.

"We're partners. You get jammed up, I get jammed up."

Crews waits for her finger to fall into crossed arms. She looks like she hasn't slept in days.

"You know why I couldn't tell you."

"I know it almost got me killed. So, no more secrets or I walk."

One plus one, he thinks, and offers his hand.

.

.

He doesn't look surprised. She'd been surprised then and she still is.

"Congratulations."

"That's all you have to say?"

He looks away, over to the city sprawled before them from this spot they always find themselves in on the hood of the car.

"Reese, I didn't get in that SUV to take away your job. I'm relieved. And I'm happy. So, congratulations."

His shoulder brushes against her and she doesn't move away. His face quickly finds hers again and she doesn't understand how he can question this gesture and not how IAD gave her the all clear.

"You do realize we're touching?"

"I do. Don't make me regret it."

.

.

She shuts the door behind her and the bones in her arms nearly break. Tidwell stands, putting his palms on his desk because he needs her to hear this.

"His off the books investigation is what got you kidnapped and nearly killed. Should IAD miraculously keep him on, I don't need someone like that in my unit and I can't, no, I won't, let him drag you into any of his craziness again."

"I don't need you to take care of me. I can handle myself. And Crews."

"I'm your Lieutenant, detective, and this decision is in your best interest as a cop."

"So that's it?"

"That's it."

She looks at him. She'd thought it'd be harder. Because she does love him and he may just be the first guy that she's ever really loved in the sober sense of it.

"Then I'm done."

He breathes.

"What?"

"You heard me. IAD reinstates him and he's not my partner, I'm gone."

"You'd throw this all away for him?"

"Yes."

.

.

No matter how soft she talks, there's an echo. His house really is too big.

"What are you going to do if they don't?" she asks quietly. But what she thinks in her head is 'What am I going to do if they don't?' and she isn't quite ready to answer that herself.

He looks at her, squinting his eyes just slightly and she picks up a grape, rolls it between her fingers.

"I don't know. You like beaches? Maybe I'll buy an island."

She can't tell if he's serious. He probably is.

"I thought you didn't tan?"

"Well, if I don't have my job, what else am I going to do?"

.

.

The clock ticks slowly. It's starting to unravel her thoughts and they're barely bound together as it is. The door opens swiftly and he steps from behind it. His expression is unreadable.

"Well?"

He stares at her, tilting his head slightly, and it's a little more than unnerving in a lot of ways she can't think about.

"What if I don't want to do this anymore?"

"Do what?"

He's silent, and again there's that feeling of meaning behind meaning and words behind words. His shoulders rise with a sigh.

"Nothing. I, uh, well, they reinstated me."

.

.

"You lied to me."

"I was hoping you'd realize how much easier it is to have Seever as your partner and want to stay with her. "

"You lied to me."

"I'm protecting you. What is going on with you? It's like I have no idea who you are anymore. Is this where you want to be for the rest of your life? Pushing paper? You used to care about your future. Can't you see that as long as you're associated with Crews you are going nowhere? No one is going to trust you because no one can trust him."

"I do."

"Dani - ."

"Don't. I told you what would happen."

It's the last time Tidwell gets to use her first name.

.

.

She puts his car in park behind hers and in the semi-dark parking garage she feels him move out, stilling her hand on the seat belt latch.

"I think I'm going to quit."

"What? You just got back."

"Reese," and his voice is like a crushing vine around a young tree. "I'm not going to let you sacrifice your career for me."

"I'm not," she scoffs.

His eyes settle on hers. She stares at the steering wheel.

"As long as we're partners, as long as you're connected to me, you'll never get the respect you deserve."

"I don't care."

"You do. I do."

"So after everything, you're just going to give in? Give all of them exactly what they've wanted for the past two years? You're an idiot."

His gaze shifts out the window. His mouth tries to work; it falters.

"They're all right. The only reason I came back was so I could find out who put me away. Maybe I'm not a cop."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. You're as much a cop as I am, which might not be saying much, but it's enough."

.

.

"So," she runs a finger over the edge of his new desk, frowning at the thick dust. "Very swank."

Dropping the box over the spot she'd run her finger, he nearly grins at her reaction when the desk heaves as one of the legs is shorter than the others.

"I think I'm going to like it down here. "

"Course you would. Except for the fact there are no windows, and no sun, and there's probably rats. Welcome to the Cold Case Division."

He looks around, frowns, turns his face down to hers. Something about his face softens, almost like she's a window with light streaking through it. She quickly turns to unfold the flaps of his box.

.

.

She almost misses this.

"It's okay if you miss it. Even if it's just a little."

Never mind.

"I mean, because if I'm honest, I miss this. You and me, four cups of coffee, me waxing whimsically and you glaring frustratedly."

"We still do that all the time."

"Yeah, but not like this. This is, it's, it's legit. This is a legit stake-out."

"Who taught you how to say that? Don't say that."

"Hey, I was a free man in the early 90's."

She nearly laughs.

"Yeah, I can just picture you now, pasty white boy with red hair wearing parachute pants singing- That's a foot."

He frowns, opens his mouth for a retort but she grips his chin in her hand and swings it to where she's looking at their perp dragging a tarp through the bushes.

"That's a foot," he repeats.

"And there's another one."

"Is that another one?"

They spare one glance at each other and without a word slide out of the car, guns raised, bodies taut. The suspect ends up throwing a foot at Crews' face and she thinks in that moment, she just might miss this after all.

.

.

It's dark. They sit side by side on the step that separates the foyer to the living room. Two years later and sometimes, she still finds herself afraid of the dark, of the noises she hears beside her, but mostly she's afraid of her breathing. But tonight, the moon is nearly full, his windows are open, and she's not alone.

"So, Lieutenant Reese," and she hears his smile more than she sees it.

"Still sounds weird."

She feels his shoulder shrug beside her. His thigh brushes softly against hers.

"I'm proud of you, you know?"

"Thanks," her voice carries quietly.

He moves slowly, an arm reaching over her thigh and fingers fluttering over her palm. She thinks about her feet kicking up dust and oranges all around as he walks past her, hands never meeting. His touch is soft, each finger carefully sliding up and straightening out her own. They stay that way for a long breath, steepled together.

It takes every bit of her willpower to turn her head and look up. For the longest time, she hadn't been able to place this expression he wears now. But it's the first face she saw, turned up to the sun, drowning in it. And later in the orchard, lifted, but this time swimming in it.

Moving slower than he had, she shifts her fingers, sliding them down until she can feel his knuckles.

"One plus one," he whispers, and like the times before it, she isn't quite sure that he realizes he's said it.

"What does that mean?"

His smile is brief.

"Everything."

.end.

A/N: Thanks for the taking time to read this. I just miss Life. Long days and pleasant nights!