Thanks to everyone who reviewed. It seems many are "intrigued" by this story so I hope I don't disappoint. It has been awhile since I've watched season one so if any big mistakes were made with the story line, let me know and I'll fix it. Otherwise, if it doesn't bother you, it doesn't bother me. Thanks for reading and reviews are encouraged and appreciated.---
It was safe to say that Charlie Crews was worried. He tried every day not to worry, tried to stay in the moment and not think about how he would tie Jack Reese to the Seybolt killings someday, how he would make that son of a bitch pay for setting him up and sending him into Hell for 12 years. He also tried not to think about what that might do to his partnership with Dani Reese. Could you still be partners and friends with the man who destroyed your father? But all that really didn't matter right now. Dani was in trouble and needed his help. Yup, he was definitely worried.
Macey Motel was in one of the seediest parts of the city, a place where even drug dealers would think twice about going. It was a crime-ridden cesspool that Reese had no business being near without a gun, a bullet proof vest and him as backup. The motel itself was a long L shaped building with peeling off-white paint and a long row of grimy, screen covered doors with letters sloppily painted on. The parking lot had chunks of concrete missing and the lines separating parking spaces had long ago faded.
"This is not making me feel any better," he mumbled to himself as he got out of his car and leaned against the open driver's door to stare at the building.
He dug into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, quickly paging through the menu until he got to calls received and dialed back the number Reese had called him from earlier.
"Yeah?" she answered, her voice sounding similar to when she had a cold a few months ago and spent half a week sneezing all over his desk at work as she sat slumped over her own. He hadn't minded at the time, just kept handing her oranges for vitamin C which she surprising ate.
"I'm here, which room are you at?" he asked.
"Number nine," she said.
Crews looked at the building and noted that nine was one of the last rooms towards the edge of the longer side of the building. There were no vehicles parked in front of or around the door. In fact, there were only three other cars in the parking lot besides his making the place seem even more isolated. He also noted that Reese's sedan, similar to the used one he had gotten out of police impound to drive around until he found a new vehicle, was nowhere in sight.
"See you in a minute," he said, hanging up, shutting the car door and walking purposely towards door number nine.
The screen door squealed when he opened it. He gently knocked against the chipped, once red paint that covered the door and waited impatiently for a response that never came. Cautiously, he twisted the knob and swung the door open when he found it unlocked. He stepped in the room, closing the door behind him and squinted as his eyes tried to adjust to the darkness of the room. It took a minute before he could make out the slim shape of Reese sitting with her back against the wall at the head of a sagging, full-sized bed with a comforter covering her. He narrowed his eyes at the streaks of dark brown coating her face, mostly the right side, and arms. Shit.
"Hey," she said, staring at him with dark puffy eyes. "Thanks for coming."
"No problem," he replied, walking further into the room until he was practically hovering over her. "Are you okay? How are you feeling?"
Reese delicately shrugged. She looked like she had been on one hell of a bender but Crews had a feeling that she had more then alcohol in her blood stream. While it was true that she was an alcoholic, drugs were her addiction of choice and after kicking the habit she avoided them at all costs. Crews clearly remembered that during the first case they worked and she had gotten covered with cocaine when the perp had shot at her, she had reacted like hot tar had been poured on her and she was desperate to get it off. She had begged him to help her and if it was one thing Reese hated it was showing any kind of weakness. Apparently, though, he was exempt to that rule because he was the first person she called when she needed help which made him feel good, very alpha male. Of course, he could never tell him that.
"How do you think I feel? I look like shit and feel like shit. That about covers it," she snapped, but her tone lacked its usual bite.
Crews nodded and crouched down so that they were face to face as he carefully studied her. The brown stains, which from his experience were most certainly blood, streaked her arms, neck and face but her bare shoulders and the expanse of tanned skin above her covered breasts were clear. Her chocolate brown hair also had spots where blood had clumped sections together, mostly surrounding her face.
"Are you sure you aren't hurt, it looks like your face is bruised a little on the left side," Crews said, noticing an area of discoloration.
Without thinking, he lightly ran his hand across that side of her face to make sure it was a bruise and found that it had slightly swelled. He then ran his hand down her naked shoulder and left arm as he studied the dried substance. His hand stopped at her elbow and he used the fingernail on his index finger to scrape lightly against her skin. He took his hand away and raised his finger carefully to eyelevel as he studied what had flaked off, careful not the breath on it so that it stayed. Yup, pretty sure that's blood.
Sighing, he glanced up into Reese's face and caught her staring at him, eyes wide and eyebrows slightly furrowed. It took him a couple seconds to realize why she looked surprised and a little confused. He was normally careful not to touch Reese very often and when he did it was always light and friendly. She didn't like to be touched and he tried to respect that. Over time, though, he noticed that she didn't seem to mind when he would stand close to her to talk. Sometimes their arms would touch because they were walking side by side and were too deep in conversation or thought to notice the lack of space between them. He could probably even hug her and not have her jerk away from him like last time, although he would have to have a damn good reason for the hug to keep her from ripping his head off.
"Is there blood anywhere else that I can't see?" he asked, snapping back into the moment where he needed to be.
"No," Reese said. "Just my arms and face."
"Do you still not remember anything from last night?" he asked.
Reese pursed her lips and shook her head no. Crews stood up and reached into the pockets of the jeans he had thrown on during her phone call. He pulled several small plastic baggies and a pair of tweezers.
"I'm going to get some samples so we can make sure this is blood. We should also take pictures just in case," he said, pulling out his cell phone from his other pocket.
Reese nodded and held still as he scraped her arm, neck and face, putting the flakes into individual bags and keeping them in order by stacking them. He then carefully pulled out a few strands of her hair that were coated and put those in bags as well. She was silent as he took pictures with his cell phone, again making sure he got close ups of her arms, neck and face. He then moved about the room, snapping pictures of everything at several angles.
"I've got some clothes in my car. They'll be too big but I doubt it will matter since we're going to the hospital anyway," he announced.
Reese opened her mouth, probably to argue, but quickly closed it. Charlie just stared at her, back ramrod straight as he waited for an argument. He was surprised when she just nodded. That worried him. Reese hardly ever backed down, even when she knew it was inevitable that she would lose. He caught her eyelids drooping and realized she was probably just exhausted and still a little drunk or high. Once they checked her out in the emergency room and she got some sleep, she would be back to her normal belligerent self. He quickly retrieved some clothes he had grabbed on his way out of the house from the car and told Reese not to wash the blood off yet. He planned on calling Davis on their way to the hospital and he didn't want to make things more difficult for either of them by being accused of destroying evidence.
Reese disappeared into the bathroom and came out a couple of minutes later wearing baggy athletic shorts, a large t-shirt and a huge sweatshirt with the hood covering her hair and most of her face. She looked like she was drowning in his clothes and they only made her look even smaller and more lost then before.
"Let's go," he said, draping an arm over her shoulder and steering her out the door.