It was still raining and thunder rattled the windows in waves. Her phone flashed on vibrate and Reese leaned to answer it, Charlie still buried against her with his lips against her collarbone. He was quiet now, but not asleep, and his breath still came in gasps followed by minute tremors. She knew there was no way to just make it go away. It had to wear itself out and then you had to pull yourself back together. She knew that.

After Alejandro, after the cocaine overdose, after her life, she knew that. Shit came down on you hard enough to make you crack if you let it. There were moments where she had just barely forced herself to face the day. Charlie's shit was worse. She could feel it run through him, though he hadn't really said a goddamn word. All she could to was hold on and tell him he wasn't alone.

"Reese," she said quietly, running her fingers against Charlie's neck and into his hair.

"You need to leave." Her brow furrowed. "Detective Reese, you and Crews need to get out of that house, right now. Not two minutes ago, now."

"Candice? Slow down and tell me--" she began only to have the phone go dead on her. Thunder broke loud as she heard a window shatter and felt Charlie stiffen, then reach for his gun. His face, lit by the light of her cell phone, was frighteningly pale, twisted in the half grimace he wore. Reese closed her fingers around her own gun and slowly blinked at him for a moment.

He paused as she turned the backlight to her phone off.

"Crews?" she whispered and felt his fingers brush her jaw before he was kissing her hard.

Don't die.

She kissed him back, the sharp edge of something desperate breaking between them.

I won't.

They both slipped off the bed, their heads down as Reese picked out a text message to Rayborn. He was still in town, waiting. Reese knew that instinctively, like she knew that plane was gassed up, sitting on the tarmac, ready to go. For some reason, this time, Rayborn was working with them. God only knew why. There was no movement down the hall, nothing in the master bedroom, nothing in the entryway.

The living room.

A flash of white.

Reese stepped into the room just as Crews pulled her away roughly. She bent back, gasping as she felt the sting-hiss of a crossbow bolt slice through the air close enough to snag a piece of her hair. The bolt buried itself into the wall with a solid thunk as Crews checked to make sure she wasn't hit. Reese shot him a startled look and watched his expression harden. She knew where he was now, she knew exactly where he was. He was a cop, now. A pissed off cop.

And so was she.

"Victor Nabbas," Crews called. "You really want to put down the crossbow because I am not in a mood to humor you right now. I mean, you can try back in a few days. I might want to play dodgeball, then. You know, I was always pretty good a dodgeball when I was a kid, except when I got tall and gangly, and all my limbs stuck out. You get to be an easy target, then, I guess." Reese caught the gesture he made and nodded as Crews took out his cell phone and dialed hers.

Rough laughter sounded.

"I can reload faster than you can shoot, Charlie Crews," the man said. "And your sweet little partner? I think I'll enjoy shooting her, too." Reese bristled, ready to swing around the corner and call this a justified shooting as she took Nabbas's life. She'd be okay with that. Straight between the eyes, just like that, boom. Her phone buzzed against her hip and she set it skittering across the wood floor. Nabbas shot at it and Crews and Reese both had their guns in his face a moment later.

"You're under arrest for the attempted murder of two Homicide detectives," Reese snapped.

"Two overworked and extremely unhappy Homicide detectives," Crews added with a sigh as he cuffed Nabbas. "Not to mention the other people you murdered. That's alotta charges, Mr. Nabbas. That? Is alotta dead people."

Nabbas laughed and he was still laughing when they packed up their shit and threw him into the back seat before heading to the airport. Rayborn met them at Del Norte County Airport, mildly impressed as they shoved Nabbas inside. Crews shoved the bags to one side and sank against the plush ivory seating as Reese strapped Nabbas in. So far, he hadn't done anything except laugh every time they glanced at him. This time, he stopped laughing.

"Rayborn," he growled.

Mickey Rayborn just smiled and crossed his legs.

"You find everything you were looking for, Detectives?" he asked, pulling his gaze away from the cuffed Nabbas.

"We've got a solid case," Reese said with a nod, shifting uncomfortably as the plane jammed her back into her seat. The night sky cleared as they shot through the clouds and she heard Crews sigh in relief. No more rain. "There's enough evidence to put Victor, here, away for a very, very long time."

"I can't ever say I was too fond of you. Mister Nabbas," Rayborn said with a slight shake of his head. "I always thought Harriman was a little...overzealous when it came to sending you after mistakes. You like it, too much. You know, the killing. And that is why I'm here with Detectives Crews and Reese. You see, Victor, you made a very large mistake when you killed Pat Ballantine. Generally, I agree, people should not get in the way of real justice being done, but when your own shoddy crap comes back to haunt you because your handpicked men panic? That is going to bite your ass fairly hard. First rule is always know your men, you know that more than most."

"Fuck you, Rayborn," Nabbas growled.

"You're going to fit in just fine," Rayborn murmured absently. "You'll like prison. Maybe you'll even survive a few years into your life sentence, if they don't put you into Death Row. I dunno. Not sure a judge will take kindly to a cop killer, but then...Blank got life, didn't he?" Reese watched the exchange wearily and found herself leaning into Crews as Rayborn paused and then frowned at her. "Dani," he said quietly and she glanced at him, blinking, "you're going to want to get that wound looked at. I'm afraid you've aggravated it considerably."

"It can wait," she said with a shrug. He laughed and shook his head. Reese thought she caught him muttering about her father for a moment. probably something about how stubborn he was. She didn't want to be reminded of Jack Reese and leaned into Crews, who made a face as he inspected the wrap. Little spots of blood were starting to leak through. She shot him a sharp look and he raised his hands, though it didn't stop the worry on his face from bleeding through.

"Kiddo," Rayborn said quietly. "I think you deserve a vacation after this one. Don't you?"

"Once Nabbas is booked and in the system," Crews said, pulling out an orange. "I might just think about it."

Reese closed her eyes and leaned her cheek against his shoulder as the sharp, fresh scent of orange peel misted the air. She could feel Rayborn watching them, but, at the moment, she didn't give two fucks what was going on in his head. They had evidence, they had a witness. They had a closed goddamned case, and, best of all, they were headed home. Two hours later, they had Nabbas in the back of a police car. An hour after that, Reese finished typing up the report and sent it over to Tidwell, who sat in his office, his head in his hands. Crews nursed tea, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

"What?" she asked, arching a brow as she shifted to lean back in her seat.

"That kid was right," he said, taking a sip of tea.

"What kid?" Reese frowned pointedly and waited for him to circle around to whatever original thought had hit him.

"You remember the Anna Silvers case?" he asked, stifling a yawn. She blinked at him and nodded, shrugging. "You remember those kids we interviewed who were all sharing partners?" She nodded again, her eyes widening slight with a get to the point, Crews look. "That kid was right." He took a sip of tea, then grinned. "You are a pretty, pretty cop."

Reese snorted as she finished the last piece of half a bagel, balled up the napkin, and tossed it at him. He caught it, an amused expression lighting his face. She shoved her chair back and rose. His eyes were on her all the way to the coffee pot and all the way back. When she glanced up at him, she found him standing at the window, tea in hand, basking in the clear morning light of a new Los Angeles day.