Reese squinted as the clouds seemed to split wide and fat drops of rain turned into something cold and unforgiving. A dark shape slammed by her head and she twisted hard as a flash of pain streaked through her side. Not bad, it wasn't bad. Was it? Her fingers came away wet with rain and blood. Damp earth and the sharp scent of crushed vegetation hit her as she went down, disoriented and breathless. Crews's voice was pitched oddly, a touch of panic surfacing when she didn't answer him. The world swam.

Two shots.

She'd fired two shots.

And she'd hit someone, too. There had been a grunt of pain and surprise, she'd heard it.

I'm here, she wanted to say, but she didn't have enough air to push that out. Her gun had been knocked free, too. Reese abruptly found herself staring into a pair of dark eyes, uncomfortable pressure bearing down on her throat. Just the eyes. Nothing else for awhile, then, a flash of lips and the hiss of a rough voice. There wasn't an accent at all, just a flat, cold, and rough voice. Lots of cigarettes behind that voice and the scent of menthol.

"One warning, Detective. Go home. This isn't your case." The pressure increased and spots danced before her eyes, red and black as she was pressed up against rough bark, her boots knocking against the tree trunk. "The next bolt will sever something important. Like your partner's heart."

Blood spattered against her cheek, light pink as the rain diluted it, and she tried to focus on the man's face. Nothing. He was still too close, still pressing down as she struggled, and then the pressure was gone as her head met something hard. She sprawled against the base of the tree, dazed and trying to clear her vision as her fingers flew to her neck. There was no sound anymore save the dull thudding of her heart in her ears and the sheeting rain. Her fingers brushed something embedded in the tree trunk and she realized it was a crossbow bolt, buried down so deep it was barely showing.

Jesus.

"Dani?" She turned her head, wheezing slightly as she caught sight of Crews slipping down the incline in a tangle of long legs and soaked clothes, his hair matted dull copper against his head. There was a haunted look on his face that refused to ease and she swallowed, trying to clear her throat.

"I shot him," she croaked. "Nabbas. That was. Him. Had to be. Was a warning."

"You're bleeding," Crews said, his voice hushed as he pressed a hand against her side. Reese gasped and her fingers dug against his arm. "I'll call--" He flipped his phone open and blinked down at the bars, which from what she could tell, were nonexistent. She shook her head.

"It's not that bad," she said thickly. "He missed on purpose. Just need a towel. Get me up." Crews carefully helped her up, his eyes dark and his jaw tight, twitching slightly as he scanned the woods. Her fingers found his chest and he glanced down at her. "He said he'd shoot you through the heart if we didn't go home," Reese murmured. "Said it wasn't our case."

"He just crossed a line," Crews said, turning his face up into the cold rain. She felt his fingers tighten as he helped her up the incline, his sudden silence almost frightening. There was no babble about fruit and not even a soft quip of Zen, just a hardness and the shine of steel in his eyes. "You dropped your gun." Reese heard the click of her nine millimeter settle into its holster and mumbled a thanks.

Ballantine's shower was bigger than she thought it would be and had a detachable shower head that made cleaning the slice that the crossbow bolt had made easier. She felt sick to her stomach more than once as Charlie silently and methodically picked dirt, leaves, and a few bits of bark from it, but insisted she didn't need him to call the goddamn paramedics. It was a shallow slice that hadn't nicked bone. It was a scratch, no worse than she'd ever gotten as a resident of the Reese house as a child. She stood under the spray, the hot water stinging as it washed over her injury while Charlie rummaged for gauze and proper bandaging in the kitchen. She heard the soft sound of him muttering Zen, now. Something about patience. Reese stifled the wave that tried to push her from the shower and after him. Nabbas would wait. He'd wait and stalk and then move.

He liked the hunt.

She was, once again, reminded of Roman. Roman wasn't a hunter, he had been a wolf, eager to chase down what he wanted before savaging it. Nabbas was something else. Maybe something that Roman might have become had he been groomed properly. The effectiveness, the power in his hands, the way he'd almost casually had her by the throat -- he was practiced and he was most definitely a killer. Reese sank back against the cool tile and let the hot water wash over her cheek and shoulder.

"Dani," Charlie's voice was in her ear, soft, soothing. "I've got towels, gauze, bandages." She leaned into him and he pulled the tangled, wet strands of hair from her eyes before shutting the water off. "You're okay."

"I'm okay," she said, couching the words in a sigh. "Tired as fuck, though."

"I know." His eyes were sharp as he stared down at her, a hand cupping the back of her head before falling away. "Sleep for awhile, maybe? We have time before we have to go in. I called the warden, we have an appointment to speak with him in about four hours." His voice pulled her down into a hazy state as he rubbed at her hair, and not even the sting of her side as he bandaged it up did much more than nudge her into glancing at his serious expression. "Guards, too, separately," he added thoughtfully. "You think you're up for that?" He paused, peering at her as she blinked and drew a slow breath.

"Reese?"

"I'm up for anything," she said, a soft grin tugging at her lips. "I don't care how much this asshole tries to fuck with us. We're not backing down." His fingers were gentle and she felt his lips brush her shoulder as he secured the pad with another strip of tape. Her palm brushed his hip and met the waistband of a pair of worn jeans.

"We're not." The soft sound of a pressure bandage unraveling sliced across a moment of silence and she winced slightly as he wrapped it around her chest, smoothing wrinkles out almost absently before he secured it with clips. His eyes met hers briefly as he tugged one of his own t-shirts over her head. The soft jersey-knit fabric hit her mid-thigh.

"All better," he said quietly and she offered him a wry smile. She could still see it, though. He wanted to hunt down Nabbas and take him apart slowly. He wanted that badly. She understood that completely, but they were detectives, not vigilantes. Her palm found his cheek and her thumb brushed over his cheekbone.

"Don't you go anywhere without me, Charlie Crews," she whispered, wincing slightly as she leaned up into him. His arms immediately encircled her waist as he buried his lips against the join between her neck and shoulder. "I mean it." Her voice was muffled against his chest and she felt him let out a breath.

"I need fruit," he said absently, avoiding her demand. She let it go. "Saw a market up the road. Still want to come?"

"Mm," she mumbled and tried to figure out if that was an actual yes, then decided it was. Fuck sleep for the moment. "Can help me put my damn jeans on." Reese felt his silent laughter as his arms tightened carefully. He still smelled like goddamn oranges, the scent familiar and soothing as she buried herself against him.

"I like your jeans off," he murmured teasingly and walked them back into the guest room with its clean sheets and their now neatly stacked bags. She grinned, ignoring a flare of pain in favor of kissing him across the lips. "That too." Reese twisted them carefully away from the window and rummaged for a pair of dark jeans and underwear (she pulled out the purple pair and felt him snort as he saw it flash past). "Those? Definitely."

It took work to tug the jeans on, but Charlie's hands helped (and hindered) through the worst of it. They stood there in silence for a long while as the rain drummed against the blue edged roof in a house that wasn't theirs, in a place that was nothing but threatening. Reese blinked, listening to the easy way he breathed and his heart beat. Still alive, we're still alive. Right here, in this moment, they were safe, the both of them.

"Reese?" he whispered. She shifted slightly with a soft mm? "This is now, right?"

"Yeah, Crews," she said. "It's now. Still want fruit?"

"Five more minutes," he murmured almost lazily as he buried his lips against her hair.

She let him have ten.