Charlie Crews sat listening to Tidwell, watching his mouth move as lights flickered blue and red through Reese's apartment windows, illuminating the room in flashes. He watched Reese, too, watched the way she'd folded herself up tight and thin lipped as CSU rummaged around collecting evidence. Her eyes followed detectives Cox and Pendle as they walked the scene. Her scene, her apartment. Underneath her silence he could feel her fraying, especially when she half-glanced in his direction. He held his own, pushing Pelican Bay back as he blinked. Tidwell was still talking. He was always talking.

"Crews," Tidwell said for the third time. "You off in another country or you gonna tell me what's what?"

He thought about it for a moment and took his time, though he knew he was irritating Tidwell. The man was just going to have to be annoyed, because Crews had thoughts in every direction (including the fact that there were peaches sitting on his counter that needed to be eaten and that he should take Reese back to his place because it was safe --she ought to be safe-- but she'd probably smack him if he suggested it now, so he didn't, and Tibet, he was thinking about Tibet, too, and airfare and how he'd really like to get away from all of this but he couldn't) and it took him a moment.

It wasn't as dramatic as Reese's moment, though. That moment had been at this very table, right here. There were echoes of it even now. Well, not far from the table, at least. Rick Larson was still in prison, still there, serving his time, and Reese was still Reese and that was very good. He glanced at his hands, which were flat against the table (red and blue and pale), and tipped his chin to offer Tidwell a flash of a smile.

"I was thinking about Tibet," he said. Reese shot him a look and he smiled again, breezy-like, and ignored the nudge she gave him under the table. She hadn't kicked him yet. He took that as a good sign. Tidwell looked up at the ceiling for a moment, sighing. "And I was also thinking we need to grab CCTV footage. I didn't catch the plates, but there was a gray Olds that ran a red at that intersection. Might be our guy." Had to be their guy.

He watched them take out the couch, dead body and all. Reese swore under her breath and looked away, vaguely unsteady. Tidwell hovered unconsciously, too close for comfort, and she rose irritably.

"Getting air," she said, her voice tight as she headed out the door. Her fingers brushed the door frame, curling tight before they let go. He watched her fingertips tremble for a moment and then recede. The space where she had been was empty and still full of her.

Crews sat for a moment, fingers steepled, staring past Tidwell, past the confines of the room and all the bodies. CCTV. Gray Oldsmobile. Alero, maybe an Eclipse. He closed his eyes and heard Tidwell move to snap at Cox. Eureka plates. Scratches on the door. Broad, thick muscular shoulders, mid-thirties, Caucasian, male. Hard to tell, but he could have been six feet tall, maybe a hundred-thirty pounds at best. That was it, that was all he'd gotten.

Reese came back in and grabbed a bag once she was assured her bedroom was released and he heard her shoving clothes into the bag, pissed. Crews rose and lounged at the partially open door, waiting. She turned to snap at him, but nothing came out. His eyebrows rose slightly and he watched her bite her lip, then shrug as she glanced at his keys. He dangled them and she darted forward, snagging them before zipping her bag.

They were both silent on the way back to the station.

Her mood worsened by the time they'd pulled up the CCTV footage and he grimaced slightly when she kicked an officer out of the room before working over the video with sharp eyes. Her concentration was absolute and he had the feeling he was just there to observe for the moment. Leaving wasn't an option, so he scribbled out neat notes while she worked. Neither one of them said anything until she prodded him with a sharp Crews.

"Eureka license plate, belongs to Dennis Graff, reported stolen two days ago," she said. "Local PD haven't a shred of evidence. They said the cameras didn't catch anything, but screw that. I'm looking anyway." She scrolled through the incident report and the camera shots before jamming her hand into her loose hair, frustrated. "Wait a damn minute."

He peered over her shoulder as she zoomed in on an image.

"That look like the same guy?" she asked, gesturing at the split screen. "Some jackass blew a red after--"

"Same guy," Crews said quietly, his fingers on his tie, absently keeping it from brushing her hair. Reese was already running the man's face through the system. "You wanna get coffee while that runs?"

"God yes," Reese said, rubbing at her face.

"How far do you want to go?" he asked as she rose to snag her jacket. "Cafe Take 5 is around the corner, but closes at ten, or we could go to The Standard. They're open pretty late."

"Shit come back from the labs yet?" He half shrugged and glanced toward their cluster of desks. She followed his eyes and then snorted. "What am I talking about? We won't have anything until mid-morning unless Tidwell's lit some serious fires under their asses." Reese paced, playing with the collar of her jacket with fidgeting fingers.

She wanted a drink. Badly. He could tell.

He took a half moment to scribble a few words on a Post-It and caught her eyes.

"Du-Pars has good coffee," he said quietly. "Pie, too, and hot cakes. Open twenty-four on Farmer's Market, same for the one at Studio City. I had a very, very good strawberry pie there once, but that was a long time ago when Bobby and I were hanging out there when we worked nights. We cou--"

"Fine," she said, waving him quiet as she massaged her temples. Cranky. He knew a cranky Reese when he saw one and he also knew coffee would help ease the edge. So would time away from the station. "At this point, I don't care, just as long as it's good coffee and I don't have to deal with Tidwell breathing down my neck. Lemme grab some files and pack the laptop."

She was gone again before he could take a breath. Crews waited by the elevator until she was finished squirreling things away and thought about peach pie. In all honesty, he was thinking about trying to make peach pie. He had ripe peaches (juicy and fresh and perfect) that needed-- Wait. He'd thought about those peaches at the apartment. Clearly that meant they needed to be eaten. Reese didn't look like she wanted peaches, though. She looked like she wanted to shoot someone.

With a crossbow.

Reese drove, once again silent despite his attempts at conversation. Instead of goading her into some trivial conversation, he watched the streetlights pass and the faces of the pedestrians (most were blank, focused on the world ahead, neon lights coloring them in splashes as the world teetered further into the early morning hours), while the painted lines on the street flicker-flashed, yellow, white, yellow, crosswalk, sidewalk, flash, flash, flash. She was thinking about Ballantine, about his face, about the card, about the words on the card that made Crews's gut twist, about William Blank, too, and the way things were connected.

As they drove, a light spatter of rain sprinkled the window and he watched the drops reflect citylight as Reese pulled to a stop. She turned the engine off and sat there under the orangey glow of the sign that lit an upside down Du-Pars against the rain beaded windsheild. The car tick, tick, ticked as the engine cooled and Reese squeezed her eyes shut. He hated cases like this, the ones that shook her, the ones that meant she lost people she knew. The ones that meant she hid from him, those he hated the most.

"Reese?" he asked quietly.

"This is fucked," she murmured. "It's all fucked, Crews."

"I know," he said simply. Reese peered up at him for awhile, white knuckling the steering wheel, then got out. Crews watched her stiff movements and headed after her. His fingers brushed her elbow and she half turned before lacing her fingers through his and squeezing.

Just once.

The scent of coffee and fresh baked apple pie washed over him as she pulled the door open.