Three.

Reese breathed in.

Two.

Reese let the breath out.

One.

Crews tilted his head expectantly and she saw the smile lurking under his neutrality. She could always find his smile because it was always there buried under everything else. She reached for him and felt his fingers slide over hers, felt the warmth of his hand, the way his grip tightened as he pulled her up. His fingers brushed over her cheek and she cussed softly, wincing.

"It's nothing," she murmured, jerking away until he cupped her cheek to look at the spreading purple-black bruise.

"It's something," Crews said. He didn't move either of his hands and in the distance she could hear the whine of sirens. They stood in the middle of a huge field of sunflowers, the wind whipping around them (her hair was everywhere, the suspect was out cold, it didn't matter). "It's always something."

Her eyes closed as she laughed and leaned into him just a little. Just a little.