Setting: Takes place between S1 & S2, after Kyle Hollis' arrest but before Charlie gets shot.
Pairing: Crews and Reese, partners not lovers (not yet).
Rating: M = for language (i.e. my frequent and liberal use of curse words, expletives and other nasty terms).
Disclaimer: I own nothing and I'm worth even less. Life, Charlie Crews & Dani Reese are the intellectual property of Rand Ravich and Far Shariat.
All Questions, No Answers…
It all began with a question. But then it always began with a question.
Didn't Crews says "there were only questions, no answers?"
The first ones, the first time, the questions were hers "Crews? Detective Crews? You are Detective Crews aren't you?"
"Yeah, I guess I am," he'd told her, maybe because he was still figuring that part out.
Somewhere along the way, it became the pattern they fell into – questions with no answers. Maybe there were really no answers – only questions.
"Hey Reese," Charlie began a scant forty seconds after they left the parking garage, "you ever think about dying?"
She gritted her teeth and tensed her shoulders. Why couldn't he ride quietly for just one fucking trip? She was particularly antsy today and jumped at the chance to get out of the office, even if it was just a routine trip to pull business records, but Crews seemed committed to wrecking it for her. She knew better than to attempt to ignore him, so she played along.
"Once when I was eleven, when my parents forced me to go to the Ice Capades...and lately, every time I have to get in the car…. with you." She finished icily while pointedly glaring at him over her polarized shades, but it was a hollow threat.
After nearly two years of partnering together, Charlie no longer feared his senior partner and she no longer believed he was mentally imbalanced, although on some days…she wasn't entirely sure.
"Ah…see now I almost bought the ice skating thing until your threw that last part in," he chuckled. Nowadays he seemed to either ignore her digs or just didn't get them.
She still wasn't sure about him or why he did what he did or said the things he said and that annoyed her to no end. She trusted him with her life, but there were so very many things about the man she just did not understand and probably never would.
He continued undeterred by her foul temper, it seemed almost not to register with him, except that by now, she knew he noticed, "I never used to think about it…dying, you know…until prison. Then I thought about it a lot… probably too much, but that was before…" he trailed off and she thought blessedly he'd learned to keep his internal dialogue internal, but he hadn't.
"Reese…" he spoke her name as a question and when he did - he had this enviable power that seemed to force her to look at him. When she did and she really couldn't stop herself; he was invariably smiling. Charlie smiled a lot. At first it was perplexing, then disarming, now it just chaffed her. What the hell was he always so god damned happy about anyway?
When she didn't answer, his tone changed to concerned, "Reese, are you okay?"
"Look, Crews. I don't want to have one of those "I'm okay, are you okay" kinda mornings. So just leave me alone." She snapped, as they sat trapped in traffic.
Charlie sat quietly for about ninety seconds, just long enough for Dani to regret having snapped at him, when suddenly he opened the car door and stepped out.
This prompted Dani to start talking to herself, aloud, "Great, fucking perfect, he bails and I'm stuck here in traffic. Light changes, I move and I lose my partner, I don't move and someone here will murder me. Fucking idiot," she fumed as she inched forward about eleven feet over the next four minutes.
Then she saw him walking with purpose up the sidewalk carrying…what was that… coffee. Jesus H Christ, he stopped for coffee.
"Hi, Reese," he said cheerily handing her a medium sized Styrofoam cup of the piping hot, liquid awareness, which she accepted silently.
"You stopped for coffee?" she said sounding more surprised than angry.
"Yeah, well…I figured we weren't going anywhere and you're in a particularly bad mood, worse than usual. Did something happen?" When Reese did nothing but arch her eyebrows at him he continued, "Well, anyway, you're better after coffee. Of course, who isn't really? I know I am…better after… coffee that is," he sputtered to a stop and sipped his drink, "ah, now that's good coffee."
Reese said nothing and moved them another forty-five feet down the block, while sniffing her coffee. It smelled like she imagined heaven would. Aromas of rich, dark espresso, smooth chocolate and something she couldn't quite put her finger on. She sipped it and found an exotic mix of complex flavors greeted her and something suspiciously fruitlike tickled her taste buds, the identity of the mysterious flavor nibbling at the back of her brain.
Charlie sat expectantly in his seat turned sideways watching with a curious smile. "Do you like it? I got you the mocha thing you like, but I had them put a little something special in there."
"Did you put fruit in my coffee?" she asked him as the flavor invited her back for more. She liked the taste whatever it was. It was dreamy and smooth, blending perfectly with the chocolate. Something this good should be on a dessert list.
"It's not technically fruit, no Vitamin C, none of the good stuff real fruit has, but yes….fruit flavor, but no actual fruit. It's orange… and cinnamon. Do you like it?"
She smiled and nodded and he was pleased.
They made little progress, each quietly sipping their coffee as Dani seriously mulled the idea of thanking him for jumping out of the car unexpectedly and returning with her continued reason for living. She discarded the idea, not wanting to reinforce the idea of him hopping out of the car without warning.
Charlie did that a lot, he acted without thinking or maybe those thoughts he didn't share – but clearly every other one he had spilled from his mouth like water from a roof after a heavy rain. She could never fit him into a neat definition, but then after all those years of living in an 8' x 10' box, she reasoned he was entitled to some quirks, idiosyncrasies and when you got down to it he was less irritating than some normal people she knew.
After another ten minutes they had only managed another seven blocks in the morning gridlock, leading Reese to gripe, "Christ! At this rate we could walk faster."
Charlie eyed his younger partner and considered his next comment carefully. She'd almost cooled down to a low simmer and was being tolerable, but Reese hated being confined or constrained in anyway, penned up, hemmed in, you put a name to it, she hated it. She had a streak that bordered on claustrophobia when it came to being confined, one Charlie could identify with. When she groaned dramatically, his decision was made.
"Let's walk," he suggested.
"What?" she whipped her head around to see if she'd heard him right. He was leaned forward looking at a peculiar angle through the windshield to examine the street signs above and then he looked left and right.
"It's only about six blocks west of here, I used to walk this beat," he volunteered. "Pull over there, park and we'll walk it. It's a nice day, let's stretch our legs."
She may have been surprised and she'd later blame it on the surge of caffeine and sugar, but she did as he directed and pulled the car to the curb, parked it, locked it and joined him on the sidewalk. "Your old beat, huh?"
"Yep," he looked around, "it's this way" and led the way.
It had been awhile since Reese walked the city and her choice of footwear made her slower than her long legged partner. But he adjusted his gait to fit her shorter stride and comfortably walked on the street side, shielding her from the rising sun and passing cars. It was a gentlemanly thing to do and she only noticed because from time to time an obstacle would make them walk single file, he always deferred to her and afterwards took up his post to her right.
"You doing okay?" he asked.
"Yeah, it's just boots aren't…" she started.
"Made for walking? Like the song says?" he finished.
"No, they aren't. What song? No wait…I don't want you to sing...ever. Forget it." she scoffed.
"Let's stop here. There's a bench." He gestured and they did stop for a moment. She sighed as she eased herself onto the bench and rested her back and legs. Heels did great things for your calves, but they tied your lower back in tiny little knots.
"Why do you wear boots anyway?" he questioned curiously. When she didn't answer, he probed deeper, "is it so you'll seem taller?"
She shot him a dark glare and tersely explained her choice of footwear, "you know, you might find it hard to believe Mister Six Foot Somethin', but size does matter." "You try being 5'1", female and a cop and see how far you get," she shot back testily.
"You want me to walk a mile in your shoes?" he joked.
She looked sideways at him, as he reclined all the way down into the bench, slouching so they'd be closer in height. "Funny, Crews. You're freaking hysterical."
"You don't have to try so hard with me, you know…" he suggested quietly. "I know what you are capable of, how tough you are... I know what you can do", he added even softer.
"Oh, yeah…what's that Crews?" she surprised herself by continuing the conversation.
"Anything you want, Reese. Anything you set your mind to," he smiled enigmatically at her. She gathered herself to rise, when his hand on her arm stayed her.
She used to get annoyed at how often Charlie touched her, but it had become more comforting of late. A connection to the living that didn't involve sex, which seemed to be the only kind of connection she had. He just wanted to know she was there, for her to acknowledge him. It was gentle and not improper and he was always so warm and his hands smooth like copy paper fresh out of the printer.
She settled back against the bench, without speech, understanding that he wanted to stay, here in this moment, for now. It wasn't like they were going anywhere important. They could have sent a uni for the records, but Reese wanted out of the station and here they were - out of the station. She drew a deep breath and slowly exhaled it, slowing herself down.
It was a habit she'd unconsciously acquired from Charlie and he noticed it even if she didn't. He realized they were no longer two distinct personalities, each had taken on some small measure of the other, mannerisms, parts of speech, it was an unconscious blending that neither of them fought and was a natural progression with any pair of people, partners, couples, cell mates or otherwise.
Charlie just hadn't had this experience with a woman in a long time. And Dani Reese was not just any woman, not to him. "So…." He began again, "seriously, do you ever think about dying?"
She looked sideways at him as if to say, you're not going to go there again and then shifted her gaze up and out, like he did sometimes, looking into the sky for answers or maybe just patience. "Is this a religious thing? A Zen thing?"
"Zen is not a religion," he offered carefully, but left it at that.
She sighed heavily, but he waited. Dani had learned that despite Charlie's ability to talk incessantly, he could hold his tongue for a long time when he really wanted an answer from her. "I used to think about it a lot. After David, after rehab, there were times…"
"…when you wanted to die?" he finished softly.
"Yeah," she confessed.
"Did you see yourself doing it? Did you have a plan?" he asked.
"Uh-huh," she said, while nodding her head slightly, "Eat my pistol. Quick, effective. Don't suppose that was an option for you in prison huh?"
"Nope," he told her something he'd never admitted to anyone, not even Connie. "Mine was hanging, with sheets or shoe laces…you know?" She nodded. "Takes a long time to die from hanging. I saw this guy once in G-Block who did it. I chickened out after that."
"Somehow I don't see you 'chickening out' of anything," she offered an unintentional compliment. Then Dani took the conversation in a decidedly different direction, alluding to his ex-wife Jennifer without actually saying the woman's name "was it because of her?"
Charlie was unsure of the reason, but Dani intensely disliked Jen although so far as he knew the two women had never actually crossed paths. It was an area that perplexed him, but one he hadn't want to delve into just yet, but today was different.
"Her who?" he toyed with his partner, knowing full well she knew that he knew. His smirk told her - he wanted to hear her to say the name.
"Jennifer," the name dripped darkly like venom off his partner's lips as if there was hate behind her concealed eyes.
"You say that like you hate her," he remarked while examining her studiously.
"I don't know what you mean," she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
"Yes, you do," he chuckled, "you own people, you possess them, lay claim to them and you've done that with me twice now….first with that none to discreet warning shot you gave Constance and now this thing with Jennifer." He smiled and looked away, "it's sweet really. You trying to look out for me. But don't worry about me. I don't mess with married women, my rule, not theirs. And Jennifer, well…. She's my past. I know that now."
Dani fumed, silently. He watched as her embarrassment turn to the anger and the heat of her anger rolled off her in waves. When she spoke again, her lips were a tight line and she snapped her words like breaking twigs, "Yeah, well there was a time not so long ago when that wasn't so clear to you and the reason I know that is… I was the one running interference for all those unauthorized traffic stops you kept pulling. What you thought they didn't complain to the Department? They called the freakin' Mayor Crews. Didn't you ever wonder why you never got called on the carpet for that?"
Charlie felt like he'd been sucker punched. He was slack jawed and silent for a good minute, while his head made sense of it, considering what he'd done, what Mark and Jennifer's reactions would have been. Slowly, he shook his head in denial, while it dawned on him they would have reported him. He studied his young partner who was far more complex and loyal than he gave her credit for "You did that? For me?"
Internally, his heart and his pride had a tougher time with her disclosure. At first he was shocked, then embarrassed that she'd taken the heat for him and that she knew how very long it took for him to let go of the past. How much his Zen had failed him, while he spouted it to her and while he was holding it together nicely on the outside, his insides twisted as he worked though his emotional reaction to Dani's display of protectiveness.
Her loyalty to him was given freely and without quid pro quo, far before he'd earned her trust. He ended up deciding he was touched and he probably didn't deserve it. "I always seem to bring you trouble, don't I?"
She laughed at that comment. "I'm your senior. I knew I could take the heat and you obviously couldn't," she said quietly, embarrassed now that she'd brought it up. But when provoked Dani always fought back. "I knew you'd stop, eventually. And I don't hate her. How could I hate her? I don't even know her, but…"
"Sometimes Zen just isn't enough," he suggested.
She snorted a short laugh, "something like that."
They both sat stiffly for a few long moments and he listened as she again drew in the breath that would return her balance, he unconsciously echoed her actions. Then he spoke to her directly and clearly, telling that her he understood her possessiveness of him, that he was possessive of her too.
"I'm sorry you had to do that for me. I embarrassed you, again. I have a hard time letting go of the past some times, not all of it, just parts, but I never meant for you to…"
"Hey," she stopped him, "we're partners," as if that explained everything.
Bobby was his partner but he never showed this kind of devotion, loyalty. She was a rare and special person, under all that bravado. He knew he'd been lucky to get her as a partner and he wanted no one else – ever. She was uniquely suited to him and perhaps the same was true in reverse.
Men in the station talked about her temper, which while quite intimidating Charlie saw for what it was - armor. So were the boots, the leather jacket, the boyish clothes, the strut she employed. She was putting on an act, one most people bought, but Charlie knew that act. It was a guy on the first year of a fifteen year stretch, trying not to get punked by the stronger prisoners. It was one part bravado, covering a big helping of fear and anxiety. Dani Reese covered better than most.
He reasoned this but never gave it voice. It was their secret and after all they were partners and that meant they had to watch each other's backs. He tried to pretend that was all it was, but he was becoming less and less sure that his possessiveness of Dani Reese came from being her partner.
Then he stopped thinking about that and answered her first question, the one he knew she wanted from him. "It was her," he offered redirecting their talk, which had taken another path. "My reason for thinking about dying…" he confided something she already knew, "I don't anymore, but it was her - when I did." Dani looked down like she already knew, but was waiting for him to admit it.
"Funny that we give people such power over us. People who have already proven they care more about themselves than they do us." He was talking about Jennifer and David; she who loved her reputation more than her husband and he who chose drugs over Dani, "it wasn't about us, it was about them, right?"
Again he was rewarded with a short almost laugh from his partner, "So they say," she said wryly.
"Who's they?" he inquired gently.
"AA, NA, shrinks, the church…funny it never feels that way," she said looking down.
"Choosing life over death was the harder thing to do," he said just above a whisper.
She nodded agreeing.
"Choosing to move past it. Some days I think it reaches out of the past and drags me back there," he staked his heart out on his sleeve and told her his fears, how they haunted him; his failures and how he battled them daily. He didn't have all the answers, he knew and so did she, but she let him have his Zen and believe it some times. She let him believe he was winning because he needed a win.
"Sometimes I think I live that day over and over again, like I'm already in purgatory and no one bothered to tell me that I'm dead," she divulged in an uncharacteristic display of her personal pain. He paused and considered what she'd said, but she wasn't done, "but some days I can forget. Those days seem to out number the others now. That's how I know it's getting better."
Dani was on the mend, her scales tipped toward good. They both were, but it as a struggle, a street fight. Some days they both still felt lost. Charlie measured her life against his and found they suffered from the same pains, losses and betrayals. In a way they were all the same; the system letting you down, friends deserting you, wives leaving, boyfriends committing suicide, it left you alone – feeling betrayed – like you didn't matter. But neither of them were alone anymore, they had each other.
For better or worse, they were just broken enough to fit together and hold each other up. In the end, only those who have loved and lost can truly understand another person's heartbreak, that gut wrenching, soul stealing hardness that makes drawing breath painful and leads one to welcome death instead.
The first time Charlie met Dani they were talking to a woman about how to get past 'it', but the truth was there was no secret, no answer or there were many. There was no one way that worked for everyone, whether it was anger or vengeance or Zen, all that really mattered was that you did get past it, that you kept going until the good days outnumbered the bad again.
"What do you say we get those records now Detective?" he suggested.
"Ok, where to?" she said standing.
"There," he pointed up the block and across the street.
She drew her glasses down and looked at him over the tops, "you mean we stopped here when the office is across the street?"
He smiled enigmatically.
"Of course we did, so we could what…have this moment?"
"You're catchin' on. Life Detective Reese is a series of moments strung together. No one moment is more or less important than the last. Each moment, good or bad, must be lived fully and completely," he tried to explain. She sighed and started out into traffic.
He grabbed her sleeve and dragged her back gently, "let's cross at the light, less dangerous."
She this time outright laughed, "Yes, Mister pull traffic stops in my own car and jumps out of a moving vehicle for coffee. By all means let's cross at the light."
He let her have the little laugh at his expense; he protected her, as she would him, against their own worst habits. He began to wonder if he and Dani Reese were not each other's better angels – incapable of seeing the risk to themselves, but unfailingly detecting the risks to each other.
But then Charlie realized again there were no answers, only questions. Perhaps she was the answer to his question and he the one to hers.