Author's Note: (Updated...cause I can't leave well enough alone).

She woke in the night. Stars shone brightly against a pitch-black sky. Lower, nearly touching the sea, a quarter moon bathed the ocean and their room in a silver glow. The moon appeared supernaturally large. She knew from school it was due to perspective, but she'd never gotten past her childhood amazement and the sense of wonder a low hung moon's luminous presence bathed her in. It felt as though the light was washing her clean. Part of her recognized this sensation was all part of surviving Roman and both of them escaping, but it did not stop her heart from beating just a little bit faster. She felt as though all at once she'd swallowed too much air and might float away.

A cool breeze smelling of salt and cleanliness caressed her face and her body was warmed from the presence of her partner who snored softly beside her. She swung away from him and swiveled her legs to sit on the bedside. She stretched, breathed and turned to look at her partner. His fair features gilded in the light of the moon made him looks like a statute in stone. She touched his face and he smiled in his sleep. He rolled onto his back and a few moments later the snoring continued.

She rolled her eyes. She poked him in the side. "Gimme your shirt," she demanded.

She sniffed at her shirt and knew it was time to wash two weeks of dust, grime and the stench of Roman off her.

He yawned, stretched and rubbed his eyes, "what?"

"Gimme your shirt," she repeated. "I want to shower and I need something clean to wear…..or at least something different."

He rose silently and slowly began unbuttoning the pale blue shirt. His pace seductive or maybe she'd just been away too long she thought. Under the shirt, he wore a simple ribbed white tank undershirt. Beneath that she could see his ribs as he breathed in and out. His head rose and his blue eyes shone as he held the shirt in his hand. But he didn't hold it out; it hung limply from his hand by his side. The message was clear, but he said it anyway.

"If you want it, come and take it," he teased in a low gravely tone.

She did not fear him or his shameless flirting. She was a master of this game. She walked close enough to see his breath quicken. She held his eyes until she grasped the shirt and pushed him back on the bed. "Go back to sleep."

He heard the water running, grabbed a pillow and put it over his head. He laid still try not to think about Dani in the shower and not for the first time. His brain was muddled from lack of sleep and the adrenaline of the day had finally worn off. He felt truly tired, despite the respite of the few hours of uninterrupted sleep they'd had. But sleep would not come, not while he couldn't hold her, couldn't see that she was safe. He knew it couldn't last, their closeness, but while it did….he cared for it like the precious, fragile gift it was.

He rose, walked to the patio door and pushed it open. The sticky humid salt air greeted him. He could taste the sea. He grabbed a bottle of water from the bedside and drained it all at once. His thirst quenched, he just stood there considering the waning moon. It calmed him; reflecting on the moon. She reflected the light of the sun, there was no glow from her internally. She was a mirror for the brighter sun, cooler but complimentary. He pondered the significance of the relationship and how it applied to people or if it did at all.

He let the motion of the waves lull him into a simple meditation. He felt his breath go in and out as he listened to the rhythm of the sea and shore; each greeting the other warmly and then retreated as if in fear of their closeness. It reminded him of his relationship with the woman in the shower; ebb and flow eternal. They worked together, like the moon and the sun, the sea and the shore; but had that balance changed today? He felt as if it had, but really that was choice for Reese.

She left the steamy shower dressed in a sleek, smooth baby blue dress shirt that smelled of him. That was all she wore. Her hair damp from the shower was slicked back. She'd have put it in a ponytail for want of a rubber band. The bed was empty, but the patio door was open and the sound of the ocean louder than she recalled. She deduced quickly that Crews was out there, in the dark, contemplating deep thoughts. It had been an exhausting few days. She'd lost track of how many.

She didn't know if she had the courage to alter the course of their conjoined future, but she could sense that all that changed right now, in this instant, if she chose to walk out that open door and choose the man who clearly loved her over all her other choices. Dani was a master at avoiding choice: she'd run from it; hide from it - in both liquor and meaningless relationships; she'd even been known to sabotage her own happiness on more than one occasion. It made her cautious. Crews was too important to her to screw this up. She'd rejected Tidwell yesterday, they both felt the distance between them; one that hadn't been geographic was seismological. She'd shifted away from him even before she's left to go to the FBI.

Crews sensed her behind him. He could smell the scent of her shampoo and feel the warmth of the steamy shower air in the smallness of the hotel suite. He didn't want to push her, but part of him couldn't help it.

"You coming out here or not?" he asked just loud enough for her to hear. The timbre of his voice was intimate on purpose.

A moment of panic ensued, she froze, unable to go back, unwilling to go forward.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, Dani," he vowed. "No one is ever gonna hurt you again." The disappointment in his tone was powerful. It was the unstoppable force with the power to influence an immovable object.

She appeared in the threshold of the doorway behind him. "I know that," she said softly.

He released the breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. Then his heart and breath stopped as he felt her arms wrap around him from behind and her face press against his back.

She knew she'd startled him. She'd surprised even herself. She felt the tension in him and the lack of movement. For a moment she was certain she'd made a mistake, then his words to her from the orange grove came to her on a breath of salt air.

"Breathe," she told him. And he did. One of his hands left the railing and covered hers, almost as though he was afraid she'd vanish. She felt him breath in and out, but under that his heart hammered furiously.