Reese nudged the coffee pot as she watched the last of it drip into place. From clear across the squad room, she could hear Bobby ribbing Juarez about some bust while Juarez headed off to the locker room to change out of some seriously reeking clothes. She glanced up as Bobby swaggered over, grinning as he waited for her to grab a cup.
"Juarez got whizzed on," he said, jerking his thumb after his disappearing partner. "We stop this guy, right? And he's like taking it out in front of Our Lady of the Angels, hollering about how God hates the world. So, sure, we get the call cuz he's bitchin and moaning and carrying on about how the Catholic Church is motherfuckin' evil or some dumb as shit junk. Juarez walks up to him and asks him to knock it off. I'll be fuckin damned if that asshole didn't piss all over Juarez's pants. An then? An then he said, 'Bless you my child,' calm as could be and let me cuff him. Fuckin wacko nutjob."
Reese blinked at Bobby for a long moment and then slowly, carefully, poured herself a cup of coffee, glanced at Crews, and made him a cup of ginger-peach tea. Because she could.
"What?" Bobby asked, shit-eating grin still in full force. "Juarez will be showering for a month."
"Bobby," Reese said quietly, glancing at the clock. It was now three in the morning. "I had a dead detective in my apartment. One of my friends. Juarez getting whizzed on? That's not gonna help right now."
She had to admit, it might have been amusing another time.
Reese set the tea down precisely in the spot Crews always seemed to put it and sank into her chair, staring at the forensics report that lay messily across her desk. Rubbing at the bridge of her nose wasn't helping the headache that had crawled into her skull. She rolled her head to glance at Bobby, who looked like she'd just kicked the fun right out of his evening and hung there for awhile before turning to get his own cup of coffee.
Crews blinked at the tea like he wasn't sure it was really there, his eyes just a little glazed before he blinked again and really saw it. He peered at her for a moment as if to say 'Did you just get me tea?' Reese said nothing, but arched both eyebrows and watched him take a surprised sip.
"Thanks," he said, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Guess she could still surprise him, that was good to know. Reese could see he was tired, probably just as tired as she was, and that all the angles of this case were screwing with him like they were her.
Juarez popped his head back into the room and gave Bobby a look, to which he winked, and charged off. Reese barely noticed as she sipped her coffee, silent, save for the soft 'welcome' Crews got as she nudged papers around. She frowned as her fingers touched the two tapes that were half hidden under the papers. Forensics had gone over them and they had transcripts along with files on the guards. One was missing, the other was dead, hung himself in his closet. Reese stared at the notes she'd scribbled for a long moment, gulped back another long swallow of coffee and leaned back into her chair, scratching at her neck for a moment.
"Missing people. Dead people. Death threats on a police detective. Dead police detective. Dead police detective in my apartment." Reese didn't have the energy to frown. "The coke in his pockets? That had to have been planted. Pat never touched that shit and IAD can kiss my ass if they want to say otherwise." They'd try to pin the coke on her or something because she'd been fucked up before. Fuck IAD, they were a bunch of bastards, anyway. "Whoever killed him was to hide what really went down. Dunno about the dog hair. Maybe Fendine's."
She was talking just to talk, following the case as she read the transcript.
"There's alotta money being thrown around here," she murmured, reaching for the phone and dialing. Reese left four messages to get the money tracked and hung up, annoyed. "Ted's good with money, right?" she asked, letting her forehead fall against her folders, her voice muffled. "I remember you saying he was good with money. He good at tracking it? It'll take the finance wizards days to get that shit done."
Jesus Christ, she was tired. Breathing seemed a chore after this fucked up day and Reese forced herself upright to gulp down her coffee before she shoved herself out of her chair for another cup. She was working on cup five, now, and ignoring her body as best as she could. They had a guard, a dead one, confessing to the murder and dumping of William Blank.
But who the fuck had killed Ballantine?
"Ted's good with money," Crews said quietly. She knew he'd ask Ted to track the money later. "You put the request in?" She shrugged, as good of a yes as he was going to get. He was silent for awhile, his eyes following her as she poured two packets of sugar into her cup and loaded it up with milk. The day, morning, whatever it was, wasn't getting any better.
"Reese?" Her eyes met his as she stirred her coffee. "Do you know who Tomas Harriman is?"
"Cop," she said, setting the freshly filled mug down to scrub her palms against her eyes in a fit of frustration. "Think Jack knew him way back when. He used to work Narcotics, retired just before I started working plain clothes. Jack used to mention him. I mean, not often, but every once and awhile I'd hear the name. I heard he moved overseas somewhere after he retired. Why, you think Harriman's really connected tight to this Ballantine bullshit?"
"Maybe," Crews said, sounding distant as he took another slow swallow of tea. She watched him out of the corner of her eye and saw him lean back to stare up at the ceiling as if the answers were going to come raining down on him. She wished they would. "Could we, maybe, track him? See if he came back?"
"Sure," she said, pulling a face as she punched Harriman's name into the database. "He could have come and gone any number of times." She squinted at the screen and sighed, pushing herself away with a soft curse. "Oh come on, gimme a damn break." Her eyes met his and she sighed. "The damn thing is eyes only. I'm not even sure Tidwell could get us into this. All I got is basic access, Crews."
"Huh," he said softly.
"I might be able to get ahold of the hardcopy," she said after a moment, washing down the flare of irritation with a stinging gulp of coffee. "He could be former IAD. That's usually departmentally restricted." Reese was grasping at straws, trying to jam sense into places there wasn't any. "Maybe FBI." That made her wince. "I know he worked Narcotics for twenty plus, was highly decorated, and lost his wife a year before he retired. There's nothing here, Crews. Nothing."
She shook her head lightly.
"Whatever this is, it's screwed up."
Reese watched his lips twist in a quirk of a smile, the laugh soft and soundless as he stretched. Nothing from Cox and Pendle who were working their own angle. God, it seemed like everything in the damn case brought them around to where they were before. Zero, nada, zlich.
"You should sleep," Crews said. "I think you should sleep. Just a little."
"Yeah? Well, I think I should get some No-Doze." She was starting to fray, she could feel it and damn him, he could see it. "Maybe they cleared my place, maybe I go home with you, but I'm not gonna sleep. I'm gonna sit there, on my ass, thinking about this shit, Crews. And I'm gonna keep thinking about it. Ballantine trained me. It stays with you, y'know? He trained me and now he's dead and I'm pissed."
"I know," Crews said. "Right now, no one is more angry than you are. I know that. But Reese, you gotta step back. You know it, I know it. Take a few hours, sleep, don't sleep, whatever it takes. You step back and you breathe."
"I'd vote for sleep, myself." Tidwell's voice came out of nowhere and Reese tried not to jump out of her skin. Jesus H., where the hell had he come from? "It's late. Go home. Don't make me order you."
Reese frowned pointedly.
"Detective Crews has a point. You start starin at this crap for this long, you start to see things that aren't there. Maybe they get all screwed up in your head, too. Get some rest. I got guys workin on it. This guy was a cop, we'll do right by him."
She opened her mouth to argue and watched Crews start cleaning his desk.
"Uhn uh," Tidwell said, silencing her before she could say anything. "Get out of my station." He jerked his thumb towards the elevator. "You come back after eight hours, we get back to business. In the meantime, maybe we'll get some hard evidence on that crossbow or the couch or maybe on Ballantine." He caught her eyes as she stacked files into her briefcase. "Hey. I know you and that cop were pretty tight. We'll get something."
"Fine," she snapped, then, with less force as she raised her hands, "...I'm going. "
"You," Tidwell said, stabbing a finger at Crews. "Get her to sleep." Crews blinked and finished his tea. He gave the man a pointed look and the Captain grimaced. "Try."
Reese shot Tidwell a dirty look and headed toward the elevators, her briefcase in hand, full of files and niggling facts. Crews caught up to her in the parking garage, his jacket slung over his arm., slightly out of breath.
"Crews," she said listlessly.
"Reese?" he asked, sidling a glance her way as he walked beside her.
"Drive." She flicked the keys at him and heard him sigh. "No, I'm not."
"You're not what?" Reese kept walking, blinking to keep herself in check, to keep it all in. She couldn't crack. Not now. Not fucking now. "Reese," he murmured. Not here. All she had to do was keep moving and she'd make it just fine. Crews was still talking, but she blanked him out until his voice was a hum. Reese blinked again and she was opening the door to his car, buckling up, and Crews was still talking.
He talked the whole way there, various notes of concern threading the smoothness of his voice, but he didn't say it was going to be okay. Crews knew it wasn't and it wouldn't ever be okay. He knew that because he knew it. And all she could see was Ballantine's face, dead, on her couch.
He'd come to her for help and she hadn't been there. Her fingers curled around the edge of the seat as the crunch of gravel sounded beneath the tires. Reese didn't wait until Crews stopped the car and flung the door open before stumbling out and toward the house. She had to move, to keep moving. Her briefcase found the kitchen counter and she felt Ted tentatively touch her shoulder before she wheeled away and lurched up the stairs.
Crews's voice called after her, Ted's again, soft and slightly confused. Everywhere she went it seemed like people died around her. Drugs and murder and darkness and corruption, all of it sucking people down and away from her. All of it wrong and broken and horrible and just too much. Fingers caught her elbows and she half wrenched away, then paused.
"Hey." Charlie's voice was soft, softer than she'd ever heard it. "Hey. You're not alone in this. I got you."
"I want a drink," she whispered. "Jesus, I want one."
"I know you do," he said, his arms encircling her waist, careful, gentle. "But you don't need one." She was silent, her breath ragged. "You know why you don't need one?"
Reese shuddered, her fingers tight around his arm as his lips brushed her ear.
"You don't need one because you're stronger than anyone has a right to be. You're stronger than the drink, you're stronger than the drugs, and you're stronger than anyone I have ever known. That's why." She hung there, her back pressed up against him, bottled up so goddamn tight she thought she was going to shatter. "Dani," he said quietly. "You don't need one."
She'd survived Roman, her father, she'd survived an fucked up overdose. She'd survived everything that had told her die, die die. She'd done that.
"Don't let go," she whispered, her fingers sinking against his arm.
"I'll never let go," he hummed, walking them into the bedroom. "Not ever. Not even if Tidwell orders me to. I told you I wouldn't let you fall, didn't I?" She made a soft noise, letting her head loll against his shoulder.
"Never's a long time, Charlie." His lips brushed against her temple. "That's a long, long time."
"I got time," he said and she felt his smile glance off her forehead as the moonlight turned their skin silvery pale. Reese murmured his name again and pulled away, her fingers on his lips.
"There's never enough time," she said.
"There's now," Charlie said, smiling around her fingers. "We have now."
"We have now," Reese echoed. Like the moonlight, the silence pooled around them, letting them list against each other like broken battleships on a calm harbor. Tomorrow was going to be a hurricane.