She woke to lips buried just above her ear, soft breathing, and warmth. Reese stayed as still as possible until a gunshot crack of thunder woke him so suddenly the entire bed jerked. He rolled and came up, gun in hand, panting for a moment as he got his bearings.

"It's just thunder," she whispered. "That's all."

"Reese?" She heard his voice break and groaned softly as she turned onto her back. He tried not to hover, tried not to touch her, tried not to shake, too, but she could see him trembling. Reese stilled for awhile.

"Crews," she said very quietly. "Put the gun down." He didn't move and she eased herself upright, her fingers closing around the gun. "Crews," she murmured. His grip loosened and she pulled the nine millimeter free as gently as she could and leaned across him to put it on the nightstand.

There was just breathing for a moment, his and hers (overlapping, his still quick, hers faster than she might have liked), as she realized how close they were. Her fingers shook and the gun rattled until she released it. His breath caught and she pulled back a little, trying not to touch him. He mumbled something she didn't catch and her lips grazed his his jawline.

She tried not to shiver as her eyes found his. They stayed there, staring, studying each other like they were back there in his orange grove and she needed him. His chin tilted slightly and she could see him trying to hide it, but she pulled it out of him until she knew where he was and what he was thinking. Her fingers brushed his cheek and he almost flinched until they settled lightly.

Another loud crack of thunder hit and they both jumped. He was more rattled than she was and her fingers slid to the nape of his neck. She felt him take a breath and half pull away, then lean back into her, uncertain -- the most uncertain she'd ever seen him. He whispered her name once, soft, and she buried her fingers in his hair. Crews's lips found the join between her shoulder and neck as Reese drew in a hitched breath and turned her own against his temple.

There was silence as she shifted and his fingers found her hair, buried down deep.

"Charlie," she breathed.

"We don't have to talk about it," he said softly. She found herself almost in his lap. "We don't..." Crews blinked a few times and swallowed hard.

"We don't have to," she said just as quietly, pulling back to study him. "But you should know you killed the man who..." Reese leaned her forehead against his. "I was twelve, he was probably fifteen. Roman used us both. Turned Dimah into a monster. He showed--" Her eyes closed, then opened. "He showed him what to do."

She watched Crews's eyes turn to ice. Cold con eyes, killer's eyes.

"On you," Crews whispered.

"On me," she said very quietly.

"I should have taken my time. I could have taken my time, done it right. I could have. Could have taken out his legs," he muttered. He was thinking about his knife, about his hands, about what he could have done, should have done. He was thinking about Roman and the lines of his body were tight. Reese could read him, knew where he was. "I could ha--"

"Don't," she said so sharply he almost growled. "Don't go there." He was still there, still down there in the dark, thinking. "Crews." He was looking through her and she could feel his heart racing against her shoulder.

Her lips brushed his, hesitant, quietly desperate as she tried to pull him back.

"Don't," she whispered. "Charlie. Charlie, God, don't--" His lips were on hers, cutting her words off, drowning her in the taste of him. She heard him stifle a groan as he tried to pull himself away from her and couldn't. The tip of her tongue found his bottom lip and she felt him shudder, burying her name (Dani, she let him call her by her name, she let him because that was okay, it was right on his lips, felt right) down deep into her lips as his fingers tangled in her hair.

He wasn't sure where to put his hands, she didn't know where hers were supposed to go. It was awkward and fumbling until her hands found his skin. She stopped, pulled away to study him and he let her. The bullet hole where Bodner had nearly killed him was still reddish pink and she covered it with a palm, her breath shallow. She remembered the blood, Jesus, there'd been so much blood, all over him, all over her as she tried to keep it in him, and she'd lost him for a minute. She'd lost him. His hand sank against her hip, hot, so warm, and she found more scars, so many. She found all of them with her fingers, with her lips, and he closed his eyes and shook under her hands. Her fingers found his tattoos as well. The prison tatts that she pressed her lips against, the scars that her tongue soothed.

He let her, she knew he was letting her see him.

Charlie hid nothing from her until he was stripped bare and she could see who he really was. In his face, in his eyes, in his hands, and fingers, and legs. Cop. Con. Broken, God, he was so broken and his pieces were everywhere. Reese didn't flinch, she didn't run. She just took him in. She took all of him in, the good and the bad, and the sorrow, and the sun. She took him in and gave him everything she had, fit herself to him, needed him. Needed him, wanted him, wouldn't except anything less than all of him.

Her phone rang and she ignored it in favor of his lips and the feel of his hands burning up her back. Reese found out that he tasted like oranges and sunshine and blue sky and something sharper she couldn't pin down. Mostly sunshine. She found out he loved her hair, and that when she kissed him it was her hair that got in the way. The fourth time the phone rang they both threw it out of the room and heard it skitter noisily across the floorboards. It almost landed them on the floor and Reese cursed (he cursed, too, and flailed) in Farsi (told him he didn't want to know what it meant and when he insisted, he told her she was right, he didn't want to know).

He came back to her.

She came back to him.

They came back together.

"Don't leave me," she heard him whisper, mumbled against her chest, much later. For a moment there was fear again. "Don't leave me alone in this place. Don't you ever leave me alone."

Her fingers sank against his hair and she took her time running her fingers through it as they lie tangled together, her own hair tousled, messy. She wanted a drink, but she settled for soaking in his warmth. Reese thought about it for a long while, so long that he'd almost fallen asleep when she spoke.

"I'll be here in the morning," she murmured and then she was silent for a long while. "Charlie?"

"Mmn?" was his mumbled answer.

"What are we doing to do?" Her fingers drifted against his hair idly, a small frown on her face. She felt his lips curve into a bright smile.

"That's easy," he said. For awhile he stopped speaking and shoved himself up on an elbow to stare down at her. "We're going to live and fight crime and I want to go to Tibet, I think we ought to go to Tibet, Reese. It could be your very first ever vacation. Tibet. Maybe we'll meet the Dali Lama. Maybe we'll find enlightenment. But mostly? We're go--"

Reese peered at him for awhile, her brows drawn just a little incredulous.

"Crews?"

Silence.

"Charlie."

"...say that again," he mumbled softly.

"Charlie," she whispered.