They were waiting, not so patiently, for the Rape Crisis Counselor to respond to the hospital. Tidwell insisted even though Dani told him Roman had not touched her that she be examined and talked to.

Charlie Crews knew his partner did not "talk" so despite rather vigorous entreaties from IAD he stayed put. She might not talk to anyone else, but if there was one person she would talk to – it just might be him.

"I don't see why we're doing this," she moped. "I told him, Roman didn't touch me."

"But that's not entirely true is it?" Crews questioned.

She returned a dark glare. "It is - if I said it is."

"There's a mark on your face," he noted. "In the video…" he explained. "There's a mark on your face and blood. We know he hit you…. touched you…" he tested the waters very cautiously.

"Oh," Dani was surprised at one he noticed and two he cared. That made it harder to reconcile what she was currently trying to convince herself was the motive for his actions with what he'd done. She was dismissive about his concern, trying desperately to minimize the importance of Roman's physical abuse by comparing it to other times. "I've been knocked around worse by boyfriends."

"Who?" The word, the question, the expression of both concern and possessiveness escaped him before he could stop it. He couldn't be possessive of her; she was Tidwell's girl. Tidwell – who'd asked him to help and who'd just left to deal with the chaos he'd created to get Dani Reese back.

But before Tidwell asked, Reese pled in grainy black and white to him on that videotape and something inside him changed when she asked for him help. Something sudden, powerful and uncontrollable emerged and it was not going back in the box now. He wanted to hurt anyone who'd ever her; his "one," but she didn't even know that she was that to him.

He internally scolded himself for the unnecessary disclosure and adjusted his line of inquiry ignoring his defensive instinct and refocusing on the incident at hand.

"Doesn't make it right," he argued stubbornly. "Doesn't give anyone the right to touch you like that least of all him," his eyes darkened and narrowed.

Roman had paid the ultimate price for his insult. She didn't know how, but for Crews to be here and to be whole – Nevikov had to be dead.

"Feels like I traded one prison for another," she noted dourly not addressing his comment. That was classic Dani. Out of habit she looked where her watch would be, but it was gone. She grabbed Crews' wrist and turned it so she could see the time.

He watched her silently. Reese initiated physical contact with him. Even if it was just to check the time; that was a first. She left go of his wrist, which fell to her thigh and rested there. He left it there a moment appreciating the warmth of her body against the back of his hand. She was warm, she was real, she was safe and alive and she was going to stay that way.

"What do you think it would have been like if high school me met high school you?" He offered a distraction.

She saw right through him. "No," she warned darkly.

"What are you? Scared?" he teased. "Got something better to do?"

She paused a moment, considered her alterative and decided to taunt him. "High school me would scare the shit out of high school you," she crowed.

"Probably," he ventured.

"Let me guess," he expertly enticed. "You were a good student, driven; an athlete, but you smoked weed with the cool kids and you broke curfew – a lot."

"Very good," she smiled. "And you were perfect. Grades, girlfriend, some sport probably baseball which you excelled at too. Hit the ball out of the park on all accounts."

"Nope," he laughed. "Not even close."

"Really?" she sounded skeptical.

"Not even in the ball park," he played with her sports metaphor.

"Then? What?" she sat up in her hospital bed suddenly interested in something other than fretting over the plastic bracelet around her wrist.

"I smoked, I drank, I ran around with the bad girls. I got fair grades, but nothing to brag about. I wasn't even remotely athletic. Didn't like team sports and didn't have the discipline for running, which was the only thing I was really good at."

"I ran," she gave him something he didn't know.

"But you smoked?"

"And drank…and screwed around," she gave him something everyone knew.

"Why run?" he asked. It was a simple, honest question. No subterfuge, no hidden agenda, no dark conspiracy, just… "why run?"

"In my head I could get away," she gave him the unvarnished truth, "from my dad, from problems at home, from grades, from people – I'd just go and stay gone."

"And when did you stop running?"

"I haven't," she answered honestly and suddenly they weren't talking about high school or track. They gazed at one another and something unspoken passed between them.

The moment was interrupted by the arrival of the Rape Crisis Counselor.

"I'll wait outside," Charlie offered.

"Don't," she clutched at his wrist. It was about as close to Dani Reese came to asking for help.

"You don't have to leave," the counselor said. "Stay. This can be tough, painful; it helps if someone is here to support you."

Dani sighed and looked at the ceiling. Her teeth were clenched as she recited the words she'd been saying for hours, but no one was hearing. "Nothing happened to me."

"Of course it did," the counselor contradicted. "You were kidnapped and held hostage for over a week."

"But I wasn't raped or molested," Dani argued. Charlie reversed his hand and clasped hers. She glanced down, but didn't reject the gesture.

"Kidnapping – like rape is a crime of power, control and dominance. You were robbed of your freedom and held against your will. You were made to feel weak and possibly to fear for your life. These things are hard to come to grips with. Harder if you are a strong person," the woman said. She spoke with authority and from experience.

Charlie found himself listening intently. Dani had been imprisoned and it affected her whether she thought it had or not. He had been imprisoned and it profoundly affected him – it was still affecting him.

Dani did not object, she listened, a rare thing for his headstrong partner. She seemed to accept the woman's premise. "There's nothing anyone can do to help with that."

"Actually, there is," the woman said knowingly.

"What?" Dani argued.

"You're both doing it," the woman noted. "You are accepting help and comfort. Many victims find themselves incapable of trusting someone enough to allow for help from the outside. And you…." she gestured at Crews, "you are not pushing, you are simply there – a stable, solid presence."

Charlie nodded. Dani just stared from the counselor to Crews and back.

"He's…we're…." she stammered.

"Always like this," Crews finished.

"Except that you're not," the woman countered. "Are you?"

"No," they admitted simultaneously.

"We're not…um….I think you think we're involved," Crews tried to explain something he didn't understand. He tried to tell someone how he could love a woman, spend most of his time with her, finish her sentences, know her darkest secrets and not be involved with her in a romantic sense.

"Aren't you?" both the woman's gaze and question were probing.

Crews looked at his partner and she him. It took milliseconds for them to realize what the woman assumed was more real than imagined and it had been all along. The surprising thing was that it was Dani who admitted it.

"Yes," she whispered shyly. He tightened his grip on her hand and covered it with his other hand.

"Reese," he warned.

"I knew you'd come," she admitted. "I wanted it to be you. I knew it would be you."

He wrapped an arm around her, pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. "Shhh," he comforted her. It was a powerful disclosure from his usually reticent young partner. He'd only just realized his affection for her and this was overwhelming them both.

"I think you should be okay to go home," the counselor pronounced. "You understand we'll need to meet again?"

"Uh-huh," Charlie answered for both of them.

The counselor closed the door behind her as she departed leaving them alone with their disclosures. The air in the room was stifling and never was an icebreaker more needed.

"Wanna get out of here?" he joked, flicking open his knife and slicing through her hospital bracelet. They were giddy with relief now that they were both free of Roman, LAPD and the hospital system.

"Who's the bad boy now?" she taunted.

"I've always been one," he smiled slyly. "Prison only improved my skill set."

"I never would have figured you for a rule breaker," she grinned.

"After all the time we've spent together?" he questioned. "I have no respect for the law, never have had any. Some rules are just stupid."

"Tell me you've got a joint in the console of your car and I'll love you forever," she joked easily.

"Sorry, no joint," he disappointed. "Love me anyway?"

"I guess so," she laughed with mock disappointment. And there it was; the elephant in the room, unshackled, roaming about without constraint, freed with those few words. Never in all the time she'd dated Tidwell could she bring herself to repeat his oft-professed love and she'd just told Crews she loved him. That meant something, something major.

Author's Note: Just a little plot bunny running loose in my head…not sure I'll continue this…not sure I should…not sure I want to. What do you think?