Caveat: Nope, don't own anything that's associated with Touching Evil except for the rather obvious - Hallie Piper and all that's up with her is part of my imagination. Love J. Donovan's character and JD himself. He's a genius (so far - as in he's yet to disappoint me, not that he will tho). Now this chapter's a little long...well, longer than all the others because the title is from both Susan Branca and Hallie Piper, wanting to see only one particular detective. :D

- Heaven's Burning -

by Mia Ai-no-Tora

Chapter Four: "Wanting to See You"

A day later.

Noon had just struck the hour. She flew in from Los Angeles at 6 that morning, having attended her aunt's funeral. For four days she had not any contact with David Creegan whatsoever; perhaps she used the trip as an excuse to get her thoughts together. Having worked together for as long as they have, she did not know where to take her feelings, either out the window or to bring it up with him. Maybe he didn't even notice how she felt for him; maybe his head was too messed up to be even thinking about her other than a colleague, a sidekick. Detective Branca sighed in her desk chair, pinching the upper bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes tightly.

It was like being in love with an airplane - it could make you feel like you were so high up in the clouds as though you were the only person on the planet, only you couldn't make love to an airplane as well as you should. Susan's mouth upturned in a wry smile at the mental image she concocted behind her eyelids. Detective David Creegan, head of a man but with a sturdy body of a 747. She would have laughed out loud at the simile if her heart could stop stinging.

"Knock knock." Her head shot up quickly, looked up to find him at her doorway with a bouquet of rapidly wilting lilies wrapped in pink plastic in his left hand. She felt her breath hitch in her throat. "You didn't call. Nobody'd tell me when you'd be back and lo and behold, here you are." He strode toward her, offering her the flowers. "It was like some ongoing conspiracy. Anyway, I'm sorry about your aunt." He'd finally managed to squeeze it out of Enright, the captain begrudgingly relayed the info just to make him go away. He tried to sympathize though she knew already it wasn't really the best thing in his department.

A smile was brought to Susan's lips, a smile she hadn't smiled in what felt like years. "Thanks. I just wanted some time to get back on my feet is all." She took the flowers, made the classic show of sniffing them, then putting them in the empty vase she always had for flowers on her desk. "Thank you. They're...beautiful." And they were. Just the fact that he tried to get a hold of her was more than she could ask for - the flowers were totally unexpected and within her heart a small flame ignited if only briefly.

He sat down in one of the chairs, leaning forward to study her face as it always comforted him to know she was somewhere nearby. Almost like a security blanket. Bits of his dream he'd struggled to hold onto were escaping through his mind's fingertips; he figured there was no need to mention it.

Creegan cleared his throat and began with: "So...how was it?" She gave him a knowing look as though he'd asked her whether or not she was a virgin, and he sat back. "Oh. Well, you know I'm trying to make casual conversation. Yadda-yadda-yadda, weather, blah-blah-blah, I'm fine and you...?" Susan blinked for a moment; she felt like she should be making up for the time she was gone and not telling him of her whereabouts. Though at times she just hated avoiding the obvious. She wanted to know the details of the woman he had brought into his apartment, a wounded yet attractive female, and he had not called in the proper authorities to take care of it.

Imagine David romancing the woman in his bed into the early hours of the morning. Cyril guessed as much when she visited him over at a home they stationed him in every three months for at least two weeks trying to make him get used to being less dependent of David; she remembered how after she spilled her second cup of Earl Grey that Cyril commented that she needn't be jealous. She had scoffed and was still scoffing in her mind. Jealous. Utterly preposterous.

Yet the decision was made.

Suddenly she stood and Creegan watched her in puzzlement, seeing the changes in her mood. "I heard about Hallie Piper. She all right?"

Creegan raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, she's fine," Her thoughts went elsewhere at the underlying meaning imagined in her mind. "She's visiting her cancer-patient cousin at the Green's Hospital at the moment."

Susan had her back to him, trying to hide the strain in her voice as she tried to make herself look occupied by picking up and riffling through a random file in her hand. "So why didn't you call for help at least or report it immediately?" She decided to get right down to the brass tax. He shrugged, taking apart one of the pens he found laying on her desk. She turned and frowned at him and he realized she couldn't see when he'd shrugged.

His tone was casual, confident. "Eh, I don't know...I thought I could handle it myself. I did, didn't I?" His deft fingers unscrewed the cap and pulled the ink out, squeezing it and trying to milk it of the ink inside. He didn't look at her.

That's what annoyed her even more. "Hmm. Sure." She looked toward the window and at her own irate reflection in the glass. Silence. Then, "So what're you doing here?"

David's hands stilled and he seemed to ponder over that question, his lips pouting as it always did when he was thinking of a suitable reply. He shifted in the cushioned yet uncomfortable chair and he all of a sudden wanted to see Susan's expression at the moment as he could always identify the emotion she felt by looking at her. He thought her a frail beauty, no doubt that much he could perceive in his state of mind. Someone with frail beauty have experienced the greatest of joy and the heaviest of heartaches as badges on their shoulders. Susan was one of those types, and that was one of the things that tied him to her.

Though right now something just didn't feel quite right. She didn't look at him when he wanted her to. That's what began to annoy him then. "Can't I say hi once in a while? Have a nice cup o' tea?" He tried to feign amusement with a British accent, then his tone grew serious. "I just don't really see you as often as I used to and I get paired up with Bernal or Rivers more than I'd like to - and you know Susan, it isn't like the Good-Old Boy Club, they're always watching me to see if I'm going to do anything stupid." He paused for a second as dark blue ink got all over his hands. "You didn't tell me when you were going to leave. You didn't tell me where you were going. You didn't tell me when you were coming back. I found myself finishing the last case alone and I was totally left in the dark. We are partners, aren't we? Unless something happened without my knowledge like, oh say, someone getting shot in the head?" He wanted to smile at his victory for making her look at him, but she didn't only look at him - she nearly looked vindictive, her bright blue eyes flashing at him. David vaguely began to feel the sensation of confusion seeping into his mind.

"Oh, so you freely joke about that now hm?"

"Sure. Why not? Am I supposed to feel ashamed?"

She rolled her eyes, shook her head then tossed the file she held on her desk. "If only, Creegan, if only." She walked past him to the door, grabbing her jacket on the way out. He listened for the door click as it closed and he instantly knew she was pissed at something, he just didn't know what. His being addressed by his surname was one thing that tipped him off as he threw what remained of the pen behind him, getting up and going after her.

It was almost always like this now, ever since short romantic involvement with Laney, a suspect in one of their cases about half a year ago. She made him feel like it was his fault at times, and he wanted to shove a bullet back into his head at the feeling. Her voice clawed at him from the very depths of his memory, the sting of her slap permanently imprinted against his cheek.

"Steven Laney was there for me at a very difficult time in my life...when my fiancee slit his wrists..."

He almost caught up to her, almost called out - when a blonde man with piercing green eyes caught her arm. His footsteps halted then, automatically kept his distance without losing sight of her. "Susan Branca," he sounded sophisticated and looked the part in his long black trench coat and suit with the weird shade of blue on his tie. "I almost thought you had forgotten my little invitation to lunch yesterday."

He couldn't see Susan's face, yet her voice gave way to her stressed facade. "Ah, Sanders -"

"Hector, remember me?" He chuckled and she tried to match it but was horribly failing. Sanders paused, noticing her discomfort. He chose that moment to close the distance and wrapped an arm around her shoulders to propel her toward the elevator door. Creegan's brain instantly felt the pressure of his gun against his chest at the action, reminding him that he had a certain power over something. "I see you're still mourning your aunt. Come; you need a good warm cappuccino. I know just the place." Who was this man? He had never seen him before - no wait. He's new. He was a new recruit - some ego-boosting detective that had sat on Susan's opposite side at one of the earlier debriefings. He remembered how annoyed he was at the man when he ate his Corn-Nuts loudly, and he wanted to reach over Susan and gouge his eye out for being so loud. He had instantly disliked the man since that day.

David watched as the guy urged her on, and he walked after them but stopped just as Susan walked into the elevator, turning and catching his eye before the heavy metal doors slid to a close. What was that she saw in his eyes? Confusion? Regret? Hurt? Her heart ached at the look on his face.

If only I was allowed to love you.

If only.

--

Next day.

"Inspector Creegan?" Someone called at his door.

David shook himself of his reverie, tossing a miscellaneous photograph of a recent case victim on the top pile of his desk. "Hm, yeah, what?"

"There's...a Hallie Piper here to see you." The 30-something six footer looked somewhere to his right where he couldn't see. "She says she needs to speak with you. She says it's urgent." A puzzled frown creased his forehead as he rose from his chair and taking long strides to the doorway where the six footer stepped aside where Hallie stepped forward.

"Hello again, Mr. Creegan," she greeted almost shyly with a small captivating smile. She looked very charming in a kelly-green skirt with black lace hem, hugging black sweater. Black penny-loafers encased her small feet. Her long dark hair was swept over her left shoulder and braided. For the first time he discovered that her eyes were a light reddish brown. He all of a sudden wondered where Susan was, then the thought escaped him as soon as Hallie came closer, the scent of Dolce & Gabbana engulfed his senses, sweeping over him like a pro surfer's choice wave. An enticing scent, meant to allure.

He functioned enough to motion with his hand for her to enter his office, and he briefly remembered that Holly used the same perfume - he had bought it for her on the eve of their 3rd year anniversary, expensive as it was. He guided her into a chair and came around the desk and sat himself down. "Okay, first order of business: That would be a total of 100K for starters," She smiled and chuckled just like he'd expected her to. Then the thought of seeing her nude made his grin turn sideways. "So what's so urgent? How's the leg?" He'd almost forgotten.

Hallie ran an eye over his entire office of what she could see, the glass walls, the impressive stack of work building up before him, the lack of family memorabilia residing anywhere in the vicinity. "Nothing really urgent...I feel guilty now for lying." She glanced around for the six footer.

"Don't," he casually replied and she knew he meant it.

She smiled. "I just really wanted to see you - you were in a hurry last time. Anyway, the leg - it's fine, my doctor took a look at it," She was almost mesmerized by his dark blue gaze. "He said you did a good job repairing me, and I'd like to thank you for that. For helping me - I really appreciated it."

He leaned forward so that his elbows were propped on his desk, chin in his hands. "Yeah well, I could see that the resident denizens of this city weren't quite as hospitable, so I thought I'd take the action. Which reminds me: I've still got your dress at my apartment. I'll bring it around sometime although you might wanna get the hole fixed and bring it to the cleaners. There's a huge suspicious red stain you might wanna get checked out." These humorous lines just spouted forth out of him, and always on que she laughed, giggled, thinking him funny. As usual. What was he doing exactly? Flirting? Wouldn't Enright have a fit. More so Branca; maybe he should prepare himself for the silent treatment. One hand reached down and fingered the edge of a single piece of paper. "So did you talk with the police? Any I.D. on the perp?"

"No, not yet...except they found my purse almost a block away in a trash can. Everything inside was taken out, emptied...I suppose the guy got away really disappointed." She laughed a little, feeling a little more at ease. "I don't carry that much cash on me; I've learned the hard way not to. There was only $10 in there, a tube of lipstick I never wear, a comb, some credit cards which I've already canceled - nothing too important. Plus I didn't drive that day therefore I didn't carry my license. I don't...really drive anymore. I commute on the max everyday to and from my place of employment and walk anywhere else I need to go, the bus - some method of public transportation." She seemed to be holding back something, staring at the surface of his desk, hands placed almost awkwardly on her lap. "My family was killed not too long ago in a car accident. My husband and two little boys. I was the one that survived the crash, getting away with no more than a few broken ribs, sprained ankle and a black eye, some minor bruising. Every time I got into a car, I felt like I was drowning. Something in my brain I guess."

David nodded slowly. He knew all of this already - earlier he had only glanced through her file. "I know something about that. Except not what's in my brain, but something that's not." Her eyes then went to his scar again, but she didn't really feel the need to ask. A silence grew between them. She figured he would tell her whenever he wanted her to know. Whether or not he felt the need to tell her. "Danny's your only living family then? Danny Rodden?" She bit her lip. She was almost certain he would tell her then.

"Yes. My aunt died about seven months ago from the same kind of cancer Danny has now." That moment with Susan flashed in his mind, about him asking her how her aunt's funeral was. Everything seemed to remind him of her now, almost to the point of being farcical in a disturbing way. "Now he's living with me - well, he was until he was moved to the hospital. I can't afford at-home care with my bookkeeper job at a small firm."

Creegan sat back, propping his feet up and crossing his legs on his desk, chin in one hand. "I can barely afford tickets to co ed volleyball with my salary so I know how you feel." Then there was the silence. It lasted at least 10 seconds and he felt her eyes trailing on his scar again and he sighed slightly, regarding her with a fixed look. "I'm surprised no one has told you about me yet. I'll be damned."

Hallie did a double take. "About...?"

He tapped an index finger on his scar. "Nicknames are as follows: 'crazy cop,' 'loony loser,' 'cracked-up Creegan,' 'basket-case victim.'" He had to grin. "Never had the title 'King of Eros.' I've always wanted to be called that. Eh." She was still looking as though he had a chicken dancing atop his head. "I got shot in the head about...two years ago. I died for the very first time in my life." He partially fixed his attention on a loose thread on his jeans, picking at it.

Hallie's brows drew together in concern. "You...You died...?" She emphasized the last word, the full meaning not really getting there. Creegan nodded once, managing to tear the thread and making a hole. She went on. "So that's why you're so...um." She smiled sideways, not knowing which word to describe him with exactly.

"Hot? Nah, I think I got my looks around 18..." He laughed a bit, not looking at her but at the growing hole at his knee. "I only died for 10 minutes but I'd have to say that was plenty enough time." He tilted his head to the side. "I was surprised when my whole life didn't flash before me and there wasn't a 'light at the end of the tunnel,' no voice of God telling me it was my time. I didn't float away from my body and watch as they tried to revive me. It was like dreaming almost - foggy you know - and hard to breathe." He took a deep breath and finally caught her eyes. "I didn't lose my life that day, but I lost everything that held it together. What didn't kill me...made me stranger. My wife - she left me. My children, my two little girls...I left them. I sent them to someplace I can't reach to protect them from me - my job.

"My ability to produce shame is nonexistent - the chunk of brain that controlled that is gone. I tell the truth a lot more often than I lie. I have the ability to look into the mindset of a criminal and know how the wheels turn, how the crank is worked, what buttons to push. That's why I'm here," He motioned around. "Organized and Serial Crime Unit. I have my own partner, my own office...I even got my own stack of stationary. Cute huh?" She carefully studied him, from the dark tousled hair to the muddy boots. To believe that such a man could have gone through death yet was still cracking jokes and living to tell. Something within her wanted to hold onto him. Forever.

Never to let go.

"David, I..." Hallie began but paused. He wasn't looking at her, but at the wall behind her which was glass. His focus moved until the object of his attention was revealed. It was then that his aforementioned lady partner came through his door dressed in very sophisticated navy blue suit jacket and matching slacks, high-heels. Her blonde hair was up with dirty-blonde wisps falling on each side of her face. Hallie's eyes drew together as reddish-brown collided with an almost Caribbean-blue.

--