Charlie enjoyed simply being inside Dani Reese's circle of trust.
He wanted so much more, but prison had also taught him patience.
In the three years since prison, he'd learned how little he knew about a number of things: why he was convicted, how he spent all that time alone, who he really was, what Zen was and how it was practiced. He played at the idea he knew more, but underneath he appreciated how little he really knew and understood. You don't have to understand here to be here. It was the first truth he you could learn to just appreciate being here, without understanding; and that was what he was doing at this very moment.
Slunk into the red leather driver's seat with her small tanned hands wrapped around the steering wheel, she smiled. Finally, Dani Reese was happy for no reason.
He said nothing, wanted for nothing. He was the unwobbling center of an ever-revolving universe. He was still; and profoundly happy.
"You're too quiet," she informed him. "What are you thinking?"
And for the first time since she'd met him, Charlie Crews was at a complete loss for words. He opened his mouth, but no words came, so he closed it and shook his head ruefully.
"Did you hit your head? I've never known you not to talk for this long," she ribbed him. As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized how much like him she sounded….never known you not to talk. "Okay," she shook her head, "obviously I've been spending too much time with you. Listen to me, I sound like you," she chided herself. "Who talks like that?"
"Apparently you," he smiled. Her momentarily inner dialogue so reminiscent of his ramblings had given him the space and time to snap out of the reverie he'd become lost in. "I'm thinking that we need phones," he abruptly changed the subject. "The Russians took mine and yours….was left in a field and got kind of ruined."
"Who am going to call?" she wondered.
"Me," he said plainly, as though it was obvious. "And your mother and pizza delivery."
"You can't possibly be hungry again," she complained.
"Says who?" he joked.
"Okay, well if you see a phone store, let me know," she followed along.
"Let's just get burner phones," he suggested. "There," he pointed, "the bodega. They'll have them."
"Burner phones huh?" she wondered out loud. "Okay." She pulled to the curb and he went inside. He emerged moments later with two decidedly low-tech phones. They were simple enough that even Crews operated them with ease.
He programmed their numbers into each other's phone and then looked up to see where they were. He was surprised to see that they had pulled to the curb outside her apartment.
As she put the car in park, she explained. "I need to sleep in my own bed."
"You could have dropped me first," he objected more on the basis of leaving her than anything else. He'd just got her back and now she was suggesting they separate. He wasn't ready.
"Charlie," she scolded. "It's your car. Take it. Go home. I'll call you tomorrow."
And just like that she was gone, not even a goodbye kiss,he thought. He climbed from the car to move to the driver's seat and noticed her standing there staring at her front door.
"Are you okay?" he called out to her.
She turned to face him. "Shit, I'm locked out."
He grinned. "I can get in there."
"You mean break in," she questioned, confirming his intent, "….to my own apartment." She shook her head ruefully.
"I call it helping," he chuckled. "Breaking in…. has such an ugly ring to it."
He climbed from the car and flicked open his knife grinning.
She stopped him with just a word, his name. "Charlie," she called to him softly.
He turned still holding his knife and wearing a mischievous grin.
"Don't," she cautioned. "Aren't you in enough trouble? I don't need someone calling the police on you. I'll find my super. He'll have the master key."
"What about…." He began and then stopped. He didn't like where his question took them.
She cocked her head to the side and demanded the rest without a word. Just her look, demanded the rest of his thought.
"Tidwell?" he meekly finished.
Her look hardened. "Tidwell does NOT have keys to my place." Then for some reason she did not understand she went further. "My space is mine. I don't bring guys to my home."
It wasn't like her to explain. He recognized this additional information as confidence and trust that was beginning to form between them. It was fragile as a snowflake and he didn't trust it to ask anything beyond what was freely offered.
They stood there looking at each other long enough for it to become uncomfortable before she shook her head. "I guess we're going to your place," she said in a low tone. There was exasperation in her voice, instead of the excitement he wished for.
She shook her head and took at first halting, then stronger steps in his direction.
He couldn't help the part of who he was becoming, the lightness she created around him and the way it empowered him to be reckless with his heart. As she walked toward him intent on taking the keys, he made sure he touched her hand. They both felt the spark and her eyes widened.
"Admit it," he teased, "you just can't stand to be away from me."
"Yes," she replied with a taunt of her own, "that must be it." She rolled her eyes and strode toward the driver's side. He didn't move, so she stopped when she reached the door and beckoned to him. " Crews? You coming?"
"Yeah," he said softly. Part of him was still in shock. Dani Reese was coming home with him. Dani Reese didn't bat an eye at flirting with him. Dani Reese and he were going to be alone in his great big house at night and he hadn't a clue what exactly that meant, but it meant something… something momentous.
She drove to Crews house and parked in the big circular drive out front. The last time she was in this house, Crews was shot. She remembered it clearly, hearing the shot, seeing him pivot from the open door and a bright red flower blossoming just below his collar bone near his left shoulder. The blank look on his face as he stumbled to him knees and then rolled onto his side on the cold marble floor were unforgettable.
Crews climbed from the car as soon as it stopped, but she didn't move. He leaned down and examined her through the window. Maybe she changed her mind, maybe the flirting was too much and she'd decided not to stay after all. But the look on her face was faraway and melancholy. He rounded the car at the back and carefully opened her door.
"Honey?" he crouched beside her and leaned close. "What's wrong?"
She shook her head vigorously, breaking loose from her introspection. She scowled at him, "don't call me honey."
"Okay….Dani," he leaned back, bracing himself on the door, staying at her level but giving her room. "What's going on? What's bugging you?"
She glanced over at him, appreciating the space he'd created for her and the concerned look on his face. "It's nothing."
"Hey," he touched her elbow, "there can't be nothing. Remember?"
His reminder of an earlier moment made her smile slightly. Again her head shook back and forth in denial, but she realized she owed him the truth. She breathed in deeply, but sat still and silent for a moment before she found the right words.
"It's just the last time I was here…" she began, but stopped short of saying it.
He connected the dots. "I was shot. The last time you were her…. was the day I was shot."
She nodded mutely. The tenseness in her was unmistakable.
Crews nearly died that day. He knew it and she knew it. She'd pressed her hand to his chest and felt his warm, sticky, dark red blood seep through her fingers. In those long moments before the ambulance arrived, she contemplated the idea that her partner might die. When that happened again in Bodner's car just a few days ago and it all came rushing back. She considered Bodner's words, that Crews had no plan, that Roman would kill him and she still hadn't processed how her life would continue without him. He'd become as essential to her as air.
She wouldn't look at him, she hadn't left the car, she was frozen in time.
"Breathe," Charlie coached her cautiously.
Just as in the orange grove, when he'd traded his life for hers, his only concern was for her. He knew her fears; for they were his own. In those long days between finding her badge and gun in the dirt of a field and her haggard appearance on that video with a bloodied lip, he'd aged ten years. In the time it took, to negotiate her release he'd experienced that epiphany that changed the way his world turned. He had to find a way to move them past this moment.
"Do you wanna know who shot me?" he asked.
At that she turned her head and looked at him, "I thought you said you didn't see the guy," her voice was tinged with anger at his lie.
"That wasn't your problem," he explained. "That was my problem."
"No, Crews," she objected. "You are my partner…and that makes your problems, my problems." Her teeth and jaw were set and her words were snapped off like brittle icicles from the edge of a frozen roof. She was angry, but no longer trapped in the past.
"It was Bodner. Bodner shot me." he grinned a bit too brightly. "But after I got better, I shot him back," his tone was cheeky and playful.
"So now you're what? Friends?" she was too surprised to hold onto her anger.
"Come inside with me," he coaxed. "I'll explain it to you."
She let herself be drawn from the car. "You're gonna tell me everything, Crews."
"I don't know everything," he joked.
She pulled away.
"Okay, okay…" he smiled. "I'll tell you everything. I think it's time we both laid all our cards on the table."
She gave him a hard look.
"Deal?" he asked.
"Deal," she agreed.