Viola checked her watch once more as she printed the 9mm that had been recovered from Aaronson's house. Her shift had ended almost an hour ago, but she needed to tie up the loose ends. She needed to be sure that the man she had killed had been guilty. Thus far the only prints that she had recovered matched the one that Ryan had lifted off the crime scene.
"Stop working so hard. You're going to make the rest of us look really bad."
Viola jumped and spun around to see Calleigh standing behind her. The blonde walked up to the table and set Viola's .45 beside the dusted 9mm. "You did the right thing, Viola. Don't dwell on it."
"I know," Viola said softly, holstering her gun and returning the evidence to its envelope.
"Look, I know that you have had one hell of a first day," Calleigh said, helping her clean up. "A few of us are going to check out a new club in South Beach tonight, why don't you come with us?"
Viola smiled. "I appreciate the offer, but I have a lot of unpacking left to do."
"Suit yourself," Calleigh replied. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, scribbling onto it. "But here's my number if you change your mind."
Ryan drew in a deep breath as he walked down the hallway toward Horatio's office. He wasn't sure what his boss needed to talk to him about, but considering the tone he had taken in the hospital, he was sure it wasn't good. As if on cue, Horatio turned from the paned window and caught sight of Ryan, motioning for him to enter.
"What's up H?" he asked as casually as he could manage.
Horatio took a seat at his desk and motioned for Ryan to do the same. He then removed a gun, which Ryan recognized as his own, from an evidence envelope and slid it across the desk. "IAB released this to me a few minutes ago. You're in the clear."
"Thanks." Ryan holstered it and settled back into the chair.
Horatio took a deep breath. "Mr. Wolfe, I need to know what happened out there this afternoon."
"I told you, H-"
"I mean what happened to you, Ryan. You didn't draw your gun. This is the second time in less than a month that you have frozen in a shootout and I need to know that it isn't a pattern." Though his words were harsh, Horatio's tone was soft and filled with concern.
"It wasn't like that this time. I swear." Ryan sat up in his chair, resting an arm on the desk in front of him.
"Your eye?"
Ryan shook his head.
"Then what happened?"
Ryan swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. "I felt guilty, H. When that car window exploded and I saw the blood… I felt guilty. I know I was supposed to be watching out for her, but I wasn't particularly nice to her. You know? Anyway, I went to help her and the next thing I knew, I was on the ground."
"Ok," Horatio nodded. "But I need you to understand something, Mr. Wolfe. Viola can handle herself and she proved that today. She is a part of the team now and I need you to accept it."
"You got it, H," Ryan replied with a smile. And he meant it. After all, Viola had proved that she was good at her job. Maybe even better than him, though he'd never admit it. Besides, getting to know Viola didn't really seem so bad.
Horatio gave one curt nod. "Good. Now go home and get some rest."
"You got it." Ryan stood, gave Horatio a smile and left the office.
He had barely cleared the door when Delko came bolting toward him. "Wolfe! Just the man that I was looking for."
"What's up?"
"Cooper, Calleigh and I were going to go check out this new club that just opened in South Beach. You should come with us. The way you've been acting these days, I think you need a night out."
"I'm going to try not to take that as an insult," Ryan joked. "But it sounds like fun, lets do it."
"Great, meet us at my place at 10 o'clock," Eric said, starting for the elevator.
"Delko, did you invite Turner?" Ryan didn't know where the words were coming from. Somehow questions about her just seemed to pop out of his mouth without sensor.
Eric turned and shrugged with a smirk. "Calleigh asked, but she said she had unpacking to do."
"Hm," was all Ryan could manage before Eric walked off. He trotted into the A/V lab, hoping that he could catch Cooper before he left for the day.
"I hear you're coming with us tonight," Cooper said, only momentarily looking up from the computer screen. When Ryan didn't respond he continued. "So what can I do for you?"
"Can you tap into county employment records from here?"
Cooper sat up straight and quickly glanced around to ensure that they were alone. "What exactly are you looking for?"
"I just need an address," Ryan assured. "Can you do it?"
"You're not planning on stalking anyone, are you?" Cooper cocked an eyebrow at him.
Ryan smiled. "Just see what you can do."
"You got it."
Viola perused her cabinets with a scowl. She had plenty of food, but nothing seemed to be what she wanted. Resigning herself, she reached for the phone book and cordless phone. Though she wasn't usually one for takeout, she decided that today was an exception. Flipping idly through the pages, she settled on pizza punching in the number and ordering quickly.
She set down the phone triumphantly and looked around her living room. The house that she had bought for herself was modest, but it suited her just fine. After six years of living in crappy apartments and saving her money, she had decided that this move would be different. This time she would buy a house, with no loud neighbors or landlords to tell her what to do and a big backyard for Oliver to run around in. She smirked at her miniature beagle, curled up in a tight ball in a spot of sunlight on the sofa. How he managed to find his way up there was beyond her. The living room was littered with boxes of books and knickknacks, framed photographs leaning against the newly painted walls. The house was a mess, but she didn't mind. All the time that she was renting she planned exactly how she wanted to decorate her first home. Now she was nearly done. All of the rooms were painted now, save the bathroom, and her bedroom, guest room and kitchen were nearly unpacked. She gave a contented sigh and headed to her bedroom to change out of her work clothes before she started to paint.
By the time that the pizza arrived, she had already painted one of the walls of the bathroom. The moment the doorbell rang, Oliver was off the couch like a bullet and barking at the closed door. In on swift movement, Viola scooped him up with one arm and pulled the door open with the other. The delivery man gave her a wide grin when she opened the door and she shook her head. Her painting clothes left little to the imagination, especially in the Miami heat, and the driver seemed to be enjoying the view. She paid him quickly and closed the door, setting the pizza on the counter while she reached for a paper plate. She opened the fridge and reached for a newly opened bottle of white wine. Popping the cork out, she let it rest on the counter for a moment, navigating her way through the living room to the stereo. She slid in her favorite mix CD, cranking the volume and dancing her way back into the kitchen.
Ryan put his car in park in front of a small, stucco house just outside of Biscayne Park. Examining the slip of paper with the address that Cooper had unearthed for him, he glanced up at the house once more. The numbers matched. Taking a deep breath, he got out of the car and locked it as he made his way up the lot. Even from outside, he could hear the base of a stereo. He reached up and knocked heavily on the door, but there was no response. He tried again with the same result. Furrowing his brow, he tried to determine his next move. The patrol officer in him tried the doorknob, twisting it when he found it unlocked. He slowly pushed the door open and was met by a barking blur of white and brown.
"Oliver! What are you barking at now?" he heard over the cranked music.
Ryan froze when Viola came around the corner and into the foyer. Her auburn hair was pulled unceremoniously into a ponytail at the top of her head, a few stray strands falling into her green eyes. Against his better judgment, he let his eyes wander further down her body and he felt his mouth go dry. She wore a tight-fitting athletic top that stopped just above her waist, accentuating her curves and revealing just enough of her stomach for Ryan to make out the fine toning of her abs. Her sweat pants hung low on her hips and he shot his head up quickly before his mind wandered any further.
"Ryan?"
"Hey," was all he could manage. He fought to regain his composure, turning his attention to the dog sniffing at his pant leg.
"I see you met my protector," she said, scooping the beagle up in her arms. He smiled at her and took a couple calming breaths, hoping she wouldn't notice. Apparently she didn't because she shifted her weight to support the added weight of the dog and continued. "What are you doing here?"
That was a very good question. When he made the decision to go to her house it all seemed to make sense, but now that he was actually standing in her doorway he was embarrassed. He blushed, fighting to avoid eye contact. He focused instead on her arm, covered in bright white gauze. Taking a deep breath he felt another pang, this one guilt.
His eyes shot back to hers and he focused on finding the right words. "I just wanted to make sure that you were alright. I didn't catch you before you left the lab."
"That's very thoughtful of you, Ryan." She blushed and smiled sweetly at him.
He glanced down at his feet for a moment, biting his lip before speaking again. "Ok, so I lied."
Viola furrowed her brow. The shock of Ryan showing up at her door had worn off, giving way to confusion. "You didn't come here to see if I was alright?"
"No… I mean… yes I did want to make sure that you were alright, but…" Ryan cursed under his breath. He was usually so eloquent, but for some reason he was tongue tied. "Look, I came here to apologize. I know that I acted like an ass today. I'd like to say that I had an excuse, but you just have to trust that I am a nice guy having a very bad day… well couple of weeks actually. And I didn't mean to imply that you couldn't do your job, I just-"
"Apology accepted." Viola smiled sympathetically at him. He was being genuine. She did, after all, make a living reading behavior and Ryan wasn't very hard to read.
Ryan smirked, relieved that she had stopped his rambling. "So what do you say we start over?"
Viola nodded. "Have you eaten dinner yet? I just ordered a pizza and you are welcome to stay."
He nodded and closed the door behind him as Viola set the dog back on the ground and sauntered into the kitchen. Ryan tried not to look, but couldn't help himself. He busied himself by squatting down next to the dog and scratching him behind the ears.
"Can I get you a glass of wine or a beer?" Viola called over her shoulder as she carried two plates and the pizza box to the round glass table that was just beyond the kitchen.
"A beer would be great," he replied walking into the kitchen, taking in his surroundings out of habit. The kitchen, dining room and living room were all connected and open, a half-wall connecting them. All three rooms were painted a deep red and boxes were scattered everywhere. "This is a nice place you have here."
She sighed and weaved through the boxes back to the stereo to turn the music down. "It's a mess."
Ryan slipped the crust of his last piece of pizza to Oliver under the table, earning a disapproving look from Viola. He gave an impish smile and shrugged.
"So," he said, wiping his hands on a paper towel and carrying the empty pizza box into the kitchen. "What do you say we dance off our collective bad day at a club in South Beach?"
"It's nice of you to ask, Ryan, but I really do have a lot of work to get done here."
Ryan cocked his head at her. "How about this: I'll stay and unpack some of these boxes while you finish doing whatever you are doing and get ready. Unless you want to go out like that, which is totally fine by Miami standards I suppose."
Viola blushed and shook her head. She had forgotten that she was still in her painting clothes.
"Come on," Ryan pleaded. He glanced down at a huge cluster of boxes in the living room. "Books. I can handle putting away books."
"I appreciate the offer," she replied, taking a final sip from her wine glass. "But I have a particular order that I prefer to keep them in."
Ryan fought back the urge to laugh, but lost the battle. His lips spread in a huge toothy grin as he opened one of the boxes. "Categorized then alphabetized?"
She stared at him incredulously. "How did you guess?"
"OCD," Ryan replied with a smirk. "You should see my bookshelves. I do an impeccable job. Though my collection is not nearly this extensive."
"Alright, you win." Viola held her hands up in defeat. "You work on that and I'll go finish painting the bathroom."
"Done!" Ryan called from the living room an hour and half later.
Viola arched her back, groaning when she heard a series of popping. She dipped her edging brush into the paint and climbed back up the ladder to finish the trim. Had her skills not been honed, Ryan would have surprised her when he appeared in the doorframe of the bathroom, but she heard the soft pad of his shoes on the tile floor.
"This is some pretty heavy reading," Ryan teased, holding up a tattered book. "Shakespeare huh?"
Viola shrugged and turned her attention back to the trim. "My father was a professor of English Literature. I guess some of it stuck."
"Ah, that explains the name," he replied, thumbing through the worn pages. "Twelfth Night, right?"
"Very good, Mr. Wolfe, where did you pick up Shakespeare?"
Ryan smirked and shrugged. "Tools of a misspent youth."
"Well I am just about finished in here," she said, carefully climbing down the ladder. "Give me about half an hour to get ready, ok?"
Ryan nodded.
"Make yourself at home," Viola said before disappearing into her bedroom at the end of the hall.